Arriving At The Church


    Elena


    A flutter at my bedroom door gets my attention, and I see Mirabelle saunter in with a beaming


    smile on her face. This makes me want to break down, and I feel light at the same time; everyone is


    expecting me to be okay with this, but I am not. I know this needs to be done, but yet again I am


    everyone’s second choice.


    “Elena, darling!” she exims, taking in my wedding attire with her eyes filling up with unshed


    tears. “You look beautiful, my dear. This dress altogetherpliments your body well.”


    I genuinely smile at herpliment. Ever since I found out she preferred me to my sister, I have


    been seeing a different side to her. She certainly wanted me to be with Sebastian, but cared about my


    happiness as well and felt ity with her son.


    In the weeks leading up to the wedding, Mirabelle and I spent a great deal of time together. She


    exined what they would demand of me as a Dumont wife and how the public would look upon me as


    Mrs Sebastian Dumont. The advice she gave me was invaluable and I would always be beholden to


    her.


    Mirabelle felt more like a mother to me than my own.


    “Thank you, Mirabelle,” I answered with a crack to my voice and understood that I was close to


    tears. There was difort in my chest from holding in my emotions throughout the morning. Then


    finding out that my beloved grandmother’s ne was never going to be given to me. At all.


    Mirabelle shakes her head as a wistful smile forms on her face. “You don’t even need to thank me,


    dear. You were exquisite without the dress and jewels.” She says then reaches into her handbag, “I


    understand you already have something old and blue, so Ie with something borrowed. Sort of.”


    My eyes grew at this; I never expected something from the Dumonts for this wedding since they


    were already organizing the entire thing. She then pulls out a cherry wood box and nces towards


    me; “Spencer’s mother gave this to me; every mother-inw in the Dumont line has given this to her


    daughter-inw, and now it belongs to you.”


    When she opens the box, my hand immediately flies to my mouth in astonishment. Embedded in


    in oval, marquise and teardrop shapes surrounded by smaller stones. It is sheer elegance in its


    simplicity.


    I peered up at Mirabelle and felt a tear run down my cheek when I saw her smiling affectionately at


    me. I couldn’t help myself and enclosed her in a warm embrace. “Thank you, mother,” I whisper softly,


    and she pulls away with a stunned look on her face. I had just called her mother, and it rolled off my


    tongue as easily as if she were my own mother.


    Tears were spilling down her cheeks as well, “Oh, Elena! You have made me the happiest mother-


    inw!” She exims, “We are ruining our makeup before the service has even begun!”


    This causes me to giggle uncontrobly, yet as I turn to grab a tissue from my dressing table, I


    notice my mother slinking out of the room with a bitter look on her face. She twists to look at me and


    smiles wistfully, “I will wait downstairs,” she mouths and then she leaves. Did this disy really make


    her that sad? A few months ago, I didn’t even exist to her as a daughter, so she did not have the right


    to feel sad when another woman treated me as such.


    “Come, Elena. We need to attach your veil and get moving or we will undoubtedly bete!”


    Mirabelle says after correcting her makeup. She then fixes the bracelet on my wrist and attaches my


    veil. I stare at myself in the mirror and take a deep breath; my energy renewing.


    This small show of affection from her truly meant a lot to me. For someone to actually treat me as


    a daughter and not a burden had me feeling light on my feet for a change.


    Têxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Mirabelle walked towards the door then held out her hand for me to take, a gesture I heartily


    reciprocated. As we sauntered down the stairs, I finally dered, “Thank you, Mirabelle. You do not


    realize how much you have done means to me.” I nced at her and she gave me a knowing smile, “I


    know more than you realize, Elena. But let us not speak of anything that will spoil this momentous day


    and take it one day at a time. If anything troubles you, anything at all, please do not hesitate toe to


    me about it. I know how my son can be.” She answers with honesty and I nod, willing my eyes not to fill


    up with tears again.


    Mirabelle holds my hand and leads me out of our mansion. Then it suddenly hit me that this would


    not be my home anymore. The thought itself did not cause me to feel sad. In fact, it felt as if a weight


    lifted from my shoulders.


    I spotted the Dumont Bentley Premier limousine as it pulled up in front of us and I was reminded


    that I would live in opulence from today forward. Something I detested but learned I had to get used to.


    As the chauffeur opens the door for me, I breathe a sigh of relief at the ample space inside; for a


    second I had the impression of being stuffed inside in an overflow of fabric.


    As I ease myself in, the door opens next to me and my father gets in with a sour expression on his


    face. “Good morning, Father.” I greet him as per usual and he shoots me a re. “What is wrong with


    you, Elena?” he asks me with acid to his tone, causing me to frown.


    “I don’t underst-”


    “You allowed that woman to overshadow your mother yet again.” He interjects, then looks away


    from me.


    Excuse me??? What???


    My mother had made everything about her yet again. Knowing I could never go against my father


    since he literally held my freedom in his hands after 5 years, I bow my head. “I am sorry, father. I will


    apologize to my mother as soon as I see her at the church.”


    He then nods, then takes my hand in his, “Our family is all we have, Elena. Even though you are


    marrying into this prominent family, you are a Wiltshire first. Never forget that.” He states, causing me


    to feel heavily gaslighted. Would I ever have the guts to stand up to my father? In the past, perhaps.


    But surely not now.


    We arrive at the old gothic cathedral and I peer up at the high arches. This building was absolutely


    beautiful, I never would have envisioned myself getting married in a church this borate.


    As wee to a stop, I spot the paparazzi and sigh as I adjust my veil. Darn it, this would be my


    life as a Dumont and it wasn’t even legally myst name yet. The chauffeures to my side of the


    limousine and opens the door for me, my father already standing by with an outstretched hand. When I


    reach for his palm to get out, we are suddenly bombarded:


    “Mr Wiltshire, is this Eliana or Elena?”


    “Mr Wiltshire, is it true that Elena is a scapegoat in this wedding?”


    “Mr Wiltshire, could you borate on the rumours surrounding your daughters?”


    “Eliana, is that you?”


    The paparazzi were relentless in their questions to my father, but as usual, Lord William Wiltshire


    remained impassive. He holds out his right arm for me to take, and I do so with a smile I know he


    couldn’t see. Holding me possessively, he nods to the bodyguards as they drive the paparazzi back.


    Walking up the cathedral steps, I noticed the multitude of cars parked in front and suddenly felt a


    panic attacking on. Who were all these people??? And why did my knees feel like buckling???


    I clutch my father’s arm, and I feel him looking at me. “I’m right here, poppet. Forget about the


    others.” He says as if he could sense my anxiety. What was with my parents these days? They were


    extremely mercurial and had my head in a tailspin! A bad mood here, a praise there; if there was a


    reason to be happy that I was moving out, this was surely one of them.


    We pause in front of the massive wooden doors when suddenly they swing open and I hear The


    Wedding March being yed through the church organ.


    Show Time.