Chapter Thirty
Thankfully, after days of intermittent rain, the day dawned fine, the sky the soft blue of a duck’s egg. Hetty, her stomach fluttering with nerves, stood while her aunt, Genevieve, and Molly fussed around her. Aunt Emily smoothed the boat-necked, white Indian muslin gown decorated with a band of seed pearls high under the bosom. Genevieve arranged the dainty silver and pearl tiara she had lent Hetty over her soft curls. Hetty wore her mother’s pearl drop earrings and the matching pearl necklace.
They stood back to admire their creation. Genevieve clasped her hands. “Tres magnifique!”
Aunt Emily kissed her cheek. “You make a beautiful bride, Hetty.”
Hetty stared at her reflection and smiled. “You have been wonderful, thank you.” The woman in the glass, who surely wasn’t her, smiled back. She dabbed on a delicate floral scent, which Genevieve had given her, and picked up the ivory fan, a gift from her aunt. She performed one last slow revolution in front of the mirror. Could this eradicate Guy’s memories of her shoeless in that horrid warehouse, smelling of something indescribably awful?
The villagers and tenants who couldn’t fit into the church hovered around the entrance as Hetty, on her father’s arm, walked down the aisle. Fanny followed in white muslin with blue ribbons decorating her bonnet. The Digswell ladies, seated on the pews, craned their necks to take note of the gowns in the first stare of fashion. Genevieve had festooned the church with every available white, hothouse bloom, filling the air with sweet scents. The pews were decorated with silver ribbons and bunches of flowers; the like of which Digswell had never seen.
Guy, handsome in an indigo tailcoat, a jabot peeping from his waistcoat embroidered in silver thread, stood at the altar with John Strathairn in gray beside him. He turned to watch her.
Hetty joined him at the altar and her father slipped away. She thrilled to see deep appreciation in his eyes. “Belle,” he murmured.
“You look very handsome.” She smiled up at him.
The vicar cleared his throat.
*
Guy gazed at his bride standing beside him at the altar. Her lovely mouth trembled, and her slim fingers shook slightly in his as he slipped on the ring. Their eyes met, and his heart swelled. How blessed he was. He would protect and love her for all the days the good lord allotted him.
He repeated the words that joined them in wedlock, and she responded, her love for him shining in her warm brown eyes.
After signing the register, they left the church. Guy put his arm around his bride and assisted her into the landau decorated with silver ribbons and bells. Hetty smiled at him. His gaze on her mouth, he wanted to kiss his beautiful, spirited bride.
“I’d like a kiss,” she said, guessing his thoughts.
Guy obliged with a long and passionate kiss as a cry went up from the small gathering waving goodbye, and they departed for their new life at Rosecroft Hall.
“Are you all right, darling?” Hetty asked as the landau lurched and jiggled its way over the rough road.
He held her tight against him and his lips found the soft perfumed skin below her ear. “I am now.”
*
Hetty barely had time to speak to Guy as the wedding breakfast was served. The table in the dining room was laden with silver bowls of walnuts, hazelnuts, and hothouse grapes. A rich fruit wedding cake took pride of place in the center of the table. Their marriage was toasted with champagne. When everyone had eaten their fill of hot rolls, buttered toast, cold meats, ham, and eggs, and washed it down with steaming hot chocolate, an orchestra from London struck up in the minstrel’s gallery and the country dancing began.
Hetty spied Marina sitting alone while her father chatted to Eustace and sat down beside her.
Marina smiled. “You have chosen well, my dear,” she said. “Guy will prove a worthy mate for you.”
“I only hope I will prove worthy of him.”
Marina placed a hand on Hetty’s arm. “You may not have understood my meaning. You are an adventurous young woman, by all accounts. Passionate and brave from what your father has told me. I am greatly in awe of such qualities because I know I lack them.”
“But you are so calm and practical,” Hetty said, surprised. “Why would you wish to be different?”
“I am not unhappy. I understand the value I bring to my marriage. But you’ll achieve far more in your life. My one hope is to make my husband comfortable and happy.”
“Then we are one in that aim.”
Marina smiled. “But you shall prove an exciting companion, Hetty. Guy is the right man to appreciate a wife such as you.”
Hetty kissed her cheek. “I am so glad my father chose you.” She turned to watch her new husband across the room. He had joined Eustace and her father. Was Marina, right? Would Guy wish for those qualities in her? Could she become more acquiescent? For the first time, she was unsure. With a sudden need to be close, she crossed the room to him. The next dance was a waltz, and she wanted his arms around her.