“These were my mother’s,” Hannah said, laying a necklace of cool white pearls along Ella’s neck.

What would Alice Sinclair think of Ella wearing her pearls? “They are lovely,” Ella said, running her fingertip over them as Hannah helped her rise from the chair. “Thank you.”

Merida indicated the long mirror that Thomas had brought in earlier. “See yourself in the polished glass.”

The full skirts belled out, making Ella’s waist look small. The tight stays lifted her breasts high so that the swell of them just breached the lace edge of her smock above the square neckline trimmed in gold thread. Beads were sewn along the deep V that pointed down to where the overskirt parted. White silk thread was stitched into the shapes of roses, matching the white pearls at her throat.

Hannah crouched to set her shoes before her on the floor. “Even your slippers match, along with the roses and ribbons in your hair.”

Ella held back the edge of the petticoat and worked her toes into the slippers. They made her feel dainty and feminine, even if they were not practical like boots. They would surely fly off if she rode in them, and she would feel all the sharp pebbles in the bailey. But they were pretty with the matching silk gathered to fit tightly to the rounded toes.

Ella stared at herself in the polished glass, her lips relaxing into a smile. She felt like a queen in the ensemble. Never before had she worn a gown worthy of court. “I love it. Thank you two for all your hard work putting this wedding and this gown together.”

“I thank ye,” Hannah said, squeezing her hand. “For letting me help and to show Cain that I am indeed loyal to him.” Her eyes teared up. “And to all my brothers.” She glanced down.

“They know you are,” Ella said, and Hannah lifted her eyes again. “Today will remind them how valuable you are, too, to the clan. You are truly talented.”

Hannah smiled. “Wait until ye see how we dressed the great hall.” She bounced higher onto the balls of her feet. “Roses and braided wildflowers and ribbons.”

“It sounds perfect,” Ella said. She turned to Viola. “Thank you for working my hair into such beauty.”

Viola’s face pinched as if she had bitten down on a tart lemon, but then she smiled tightly and bobbed a curtsy. Merida moved around Ella’s skirts, fluffing them. “I think ’tis time. Viola, ye go down first and let Thomas, at the bottom, know we are coming.”