by Betty Neels
The doctor regarded her tear-stained face lovingly. ‘No, my dearest darling, I never wanted to marry anyone, only you. My aunt is prone to exaggerate and she is forgetful.’
‘Oh—did she forget my message?’
‘Shall we say that she got it a little muddled, but that doesn’t matter now. I’ve come to take you home, Philly—and before you say another word I have—er—persuaded your stepmother to take Chloe back with her. This ridiculous obsession about her looks won’t do her any good at all, as I have explained. If she must keep to her room she can do so in her own home.’
Philomena’s grip on his sleeve tightened. ‘Walle, I knew you’d arrange everything. Can we go now?’
‘No, my love. Your mother and Chloe are going at once, you and I will follow later. It seems a good opportunity to make our plans for the future.’
Philomena would have agreed to anything. She said meekly: ‘Yes, Walle,’ and then: ‘My stepmother’s calling—I should go in…’
‘For the last time, my darling, but after this you will be at no one’s beck and call.’ He tucked an arm in hers. ‘We’ll go together.’
It wasn’t all that easy getting the two of them away. Chloe, still very much wrapped up in her appearance, was disposed to sulk and might have gone on for hours if the doctor had not pointed out that tears and futile rage would inevitably prolong the rash and that if she intended being a bridesmaid at Philomena’s wedding, then she had better start from that very moment to cheer up.
‘Bridesmaid?’ asked Philomena, frowning a little.
Her future husband turned a placid face towards her. ‘My love, would you be very vexed if we had a really big wedding? Of course, if you say so, we will have the quietest ceremony possible, but I have so many friends and such a large family, and they’ll all wish to be present.’ He contrived to look hopeful and a little apprehensive at the same time, and Philomena said at once: ‘Then we’ll have a big wedding—where?’
‘At home,’ interpolated Mrs Parsons. ‘Walle did just mention it to me when he arrived, that was if you agreed.’ She added rather crossly, ‘I’m sure you know your own minds best.’
‘Oh, indeed we do,’ agreed Walle blandly. ‘Should you not be going? We will follow very shortly—we’ll dine on the way. I don’t know if Philly has a key?’
‘Yes, I have, we can let ourselves in.’ Philomena couldn’t keep the happiness out of her voice. Her ‘They’ve gone’, an obvious remark, was nevertheless uttered with profound satisfaction. ‘What plans?’ she wanted to know.
The doctor looked vague. ‘Plans? Oh, this and that, my dearest girl. Shall we sit for a little while and talk? It seems a long time since I’ve seen you.’ He stared round the sitting room, studying the furniture with distaste. ‘The sofa, I think.’
Philomena, curled up close to him, heaved a sigh of content and then said: ‘Why do you want a big wedding? I mean, are all your relations coming?’
‘Yes, they are, and as many friends as we can get into the church. My darling Philly, I want the whole world to be there to share our day and our happiness. You will wear white, my love, and you will be beautiful, as beautiful as you are now.’
‘That’s the nicest bit of nonsense I’ve heard for a long time. Walle, is your mother at the castle?’ She thought a moment. ‘And your aunt and Tritia?’
‘My mother, yes. My aunt and Tritia left yesterday.’ Something in his voice warned her not to pursue the matter further.
He wasn’t going to tell her; something had happened while she was away. She discovered that she didn’t care in the least.
Philomena twitched a fold of creamy white chiffon away from Uncle Ben’s foot and contemplated her bouquet—roses of the same creamy white tipped with pink. There was orange blossom too, and orchids and stephanotis. She touched a rose petal just to reassure herself that it was real, for until that moment the morning had been a dream, and even now with Uncle Ben sitting beside her in the white ribboned limousine, she still didn’t quite believe that she was getting married to Walle. A thousand doubts filled her head. She was quite unsuited to become the mistress of a rich man’s castle, she was plain and quite uninteresting; Walle had made a mistake and probably he was regretting it at this very moment, only of course he would be too kind to do anything about it… She closed her eyes at the horrid thought, remembering what her stepmother had said only an hour or so ago when she had visited her in her bedroom to approve her appearance.
‘You’re a lucky girl, Philly,’ she had observed. ‘You’re not pretty, my dear, and you haven’t much money—not that that matters; Walle has enough for a dozen—and you’re not a girl to attract men, are you? And yet here you are, marrying one of the wealthiest and handsomest men I’ve ever laid eyes on.’ She had laughed quite kindly, not seeing Philomena’s wince. ‘We’ll have to call it Philomena’s Miracle, won’t we?’
Uncle Ben eased himself upright. ‘Here we are, Philly. Ready to face the crowd?’
It surprised her to see so many people waiting outside the church, but somehow they seemed part and parcel of her unreal world. She gained the porch and was struck by the loveliness of her stepsisters; in pink chiffon and floppy-brimmed straw hats wreathed with roses, they looked superb, and she told them so while they fussed with her train and veil, assuring her with facile good nature that she looked marvellous.
She smiled at them from a face made pale by her doubts, and took Uncle Ben’s arm.
The aisle looked unending, the church crowded with a sea of faces turned over elegant shoulders; her stepmother had done exactly what Walle had wished—asked every friend and acquaintance to the wedding. Philomena could see him standing at the end of the aisle, his broad back impeccable in a grey morning coat; he was the only one in the whole church who wasn’t looking at her. They were a third of the way now and she faltered for a moment, and at the same moment he turned very deliberately, and at the sight of his kind, loving face all her doubts vanished as though they had never been. A faint lovely pink washed her pale cheeks and her green eyes began to sparkle. She was the most beautiful girl in the world and he loved her; his look told her that as plainly as though he had shouted it the length of the church.
She lifted her chin a little and the beginnings of a smile curved her mouth. The unreal future was real after all; it was theirs, hers and Walle’s, to share. She wanted to run the rest of the way and tell him so, and as usual he read her thoughts. His face remained grave, but she was near enough to see the sparks of laughter in his eyes.
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IMPRINT: eBook Betty Neels
ISBN: 9781460891674
TITLE: PHILOMENA’S MIRACLE
First Australian Publication 2013
Copyright © 2013 Betty Neels
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Harlequin Mills & Boon®, Locked Bag 7002, Chatswood D.C. N.S.W., Australia 2067.
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