(Angelica POV)
Tonight's the big night. I will meet my future husband, John Church, who I may never live life without again. We'll be bound together in a few weeks, and I will go with him, have children, and die at his side... Or so is the plan.
Angelica Schuyler Church? Does that have any sort of ring?
Peggy is up and gone all day, and I rather miss the little bee as I try to get ready. I bathe, which is usually only a once a year treat, and I brush through my hair (it takes a bit). I wipe my face with lemon water and put on a bit of powder. I lock myself tight in my corset, put on my stockings... Time to pick a dress.
I flip through my closet. Pink is my favorite color. I love the romanticsm of it, even though it implies no boy-girl nonsense. It's the light blush of embarrassment, the sunrise, and the sweetest flowers. It's herbal tea and... I'm ranting.
That's when I realize how hard I'm trying to keep my mind off of the other John. I miss him so much, though I don't know why I'm admitting it. I can't have him, or his freckles, or his sweetness. The life I may have lived with him isn't to be.
I quickly pick a dress I don't like much-- an empire waist in a hot pink color with white piping. I put it on, tie my hair half-way up, and sigh.
It's time to meet Mr. Church.