The chamber orchestra, which had played a selection of hymns as prelude, now commenced the first processional arrangement, ‘And the mountains shall depart’ from Mendelssohn’s oratorio Elijah. Lady Adele entered, and Paul’s eyes began to grow moist as he watched his beloved daughter walk slowly and carefully towards the altar; arrayed all in white organza and embroidered satin, a gown to match Elizabeth’s. Della’s chestnut hair curled into a ladylike coif of tight spirals, and upon her head sat a dazzling white gold tiara encrusted with tiny diamonds that Paul had borrowed from his mother’s jewellery box. Seeing her thus, he suddenly realised just how quickly his child was growing up. Della was nearly eleven, and in only a few more years, she might walk this same aisle as a bride.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Paul said to his cousin proudly. “That’s my lassie.”
As Della reached the front, she took a step to the side opposite her father, the man she knew as her brother (though Paul was beginning to wonder if he shouldn’t tell her the truth soon). He winked at her, and she very carefully took her place, keeping the six-foot train out of Elizabeth’s way, just as she had practised. The orchestra concluded the first selection and began to play ‘I Know that My Redeemer Liveth’ from Handel’s Messiah, one of Elizabeth’s favourite sacred works. Everyone stood and turned to look at James Stuart, the Duke of Drummond, proudly holding his granddaughter’s delicate arm.
Charles gasped, as did everyone in the pews. The handsome Scottish duke wore full formal attire that matched the style and fabrics of his nephews, but it was Beth whose dazzling beauty demanded all their attention. She wore white satin, overlaid with fine gold embroidery, wrought in a double ring pattern, that covered the entire skirt and high-necked bodice. Although she’d wanted to leave the corset behind, the pearl buttons at the dress’s waist had refused to fasten without one, so Beth walked carefully, keeping her back straight and trying not to become dizzy with all the excitement; for, just as Charles could see her, she could see him, and her heart beat wildly as she neared her Captain.
Atop the wedding veil, shone the dazzling pink diamonds of the Branham ducal coronet. The veil had once been worn by her maternal great-great grandmother, Antoinette Mérovée de Moiré Linnhe, and was finely woven in white silk tulle, trimmed in beautifully stitched tambour lace, shaped like roses of purest white that reached out as long as the gown’s magnificent train. The veil covered her face, but its delicate lacework permitted Elizabeth’s dark eyes to see and be seen; and above it, the crown’s diamonds shone like a rosy dawn as she walked beneath the lights of the chandeliers.
Her wide train stretched behind for thirty feet, sweeping majestically across the red carpet as she passed the rows of pews; each filled with dignitaries and peers, amongst them the Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh, Duke and Duchess of Marlborough, and, in the very front, the heir presumptive Prince Albert Victor the Duke of Clarence and his father Edward, Prince of Wales. On the aisle, next to the prince, sat Her Majesty Queen Victoria, alongside her daughter-in-law Princess Alexandra.
Just behind the queen, sat two more rows of royal dignitaries, including Prince Anatole Romanov, who sat beside Prince Nicholai Aleksandrovich Romanov, the tesarevich, or crown prince, of the Russian Empire, who had once shown a keen interest in Elizabeth. The twenty-year-old Russian heir offered the little duchess a wide grin as she passed, and Anatole nodded his head politely.
Just before reaching the altar, Elizabeth paused to curtsy to the queen, who leaned over to kiss her upon the forehead. As she straightened, Beth nearly lost her balance, but no one noticed, save Charles, for she appeared to move flawlessly to her position next to Adele.
Years later, when speaking of the ceremony, neither Elizabeth nor Charles would remember much. Beth would recall how his hand trembled a little, and that she’d yawned during the impromptu homily given by the Archbishop of Canterbury, followed by his ten minute prayer of supplication and blessing. The one moment that would remain fixed in both their memories was when Ed MacPherson said the words that forever changed their relationship: “Before God and in the presence of this congregation, Elizabeth and Charles have made their solemn vows to each other. They have confirmed their promises by the joining of hands and by the giving and receiving of rings. Therefore, I proclaim to all here present that they are now husband and wife. Lord Haimsbury, you may now kiss your bride.”
And so he did. Charles Robert Arthur Sinclair III gently lifted the veil of his beloved bride and sweetly kissed her.
“I love you, Captain. Always and forever,” she said as their lips parted.
“And I love you, little one. You make me the happiest man in all the earth today.”
The orchestra commenced a final hymn of praise, and Charles and Elizabeth turned towards the congregation, the couple’s joyful smiles more radiant than any sunrise. After a final blessing, a recessional hymn commenced, and Charles took Beth’s arm, leading her through the main doors and into the morning air.
Just before reaching the end of the long, carpeted sidewalk, the elated marquess pulled her close and kissed her once again. As a result, the long lines of well-wishers and newspapermen broke into applause, and church bells began to peal across Westminster. Adele and the earl followed, along with the Duke of Drummond, who escorted Queen Victoria. The aged sovereign moved slowly, limping slightly on her left foot, but stopped to speak with the newlyweds before returning to her carriage.
“My beautiful girl,” she said to Elizabeth. “I admit to disappointment that you and my grandson couldn’t make a go of it, but it seems as though you’ve found someone who suits you very well. Charles, you must keep her always in your care and make her happy, as my beloved Albert did for me. And may you have many, many children, my dears! Now, if you will forgive an old woman, I must retire to my coach. Gout, you know,” she added, whispering the confession to Beth. “I pray it never comes to your family, but if it does, a bit of baking soda in water each morning offers relief—but one must remember to make it a daily ritual. Sadly, with all that’s occupied me of late, I’ve not been as faithful as needs require.”
“I take all your advice to heart, Your Majesty. Thank you,” Beth said as the queen held her hand.
Victoria then looked to Sinclair. “Charles, you must come see us next time we are in Edinburgh. I have many marvellous tales about your father. Oh what a man he was!”
“You’re very kind to say so, Your Majesty. Beth and I shall be honoured.”
“Goodbye, my dears,” she said and kissed Elizabeth once more on the forehead. The queen then turned to Drummond, whispering something which caused the duke to laugh. Prince Edward had been speaking in the narthex with the Duke of Marlborough, but seeing his mother departing, quickly ended his conversation and helped her to the royal coach, where three footmen in full livery assisted her up the folding steps.
Returning to his granddaughter, Drummond kissed her cheek, and Beth noticed tears glistening on his face. “Did you see the queen’s face when you kissed? It made her cry. I saw it! She had such hopes for you and Eddy, but she’s all right. Now that the legalities are ended, it’s time for the party! Charles, we’ll see you both at Drummond House as quickly as you can finish here, and then I fear it’s a long, formal line of congratulations and best wishes from all the muckety-mucks in London. But after that folderol’s finished, we’ll adjourn to Queen Anne for the real celebration. Princess, are you up for a full day?”
She nodded, her hand tightly held by her new husband. “I am, Grandfather. A full day and more, even if it goes past midnight. Can you believe it? I have a new title, and it is the best of all. Missus! I shall always want to have that as my primary title, Captain. Mrs. Charles Sinclair.”
Charles kissed her once more, his eyes filled with admiration and affection. “Mrs. Sinclair, I love you madly. Are you aware of that?”
She nodded, and the duke laughed, happier than he’d been in years. “All rig
ht. I’m off,” he told them. “Charles, have her there as soon as possible, though I expect you’re going to find it a challenge, working your way through this crowd. Granger stands ready with your carriage, whenever you wish to go. Now is better than later.”
Elizabeth kissed the duke, and Charles saw the great man weep openly, tears glistening upon his moustache. “Thank you for making this possible, Grandpa. And for saying yes when Charles asked for my hand. You’ll never know how happy you’ve made me!”
Drummond kissed her hand and headed towards the first carriage in a long line, parked on the gravel circle. Aunt Victoria came next, but she stopped only for a moment.
“Well done, both of you,” she said simply. “Don’t be late to the house. Paul and Adele have already left, and I strongly suggest you follow their example. There will be ample time for chitchat and visiting at my brother’s home. Don’t dawdle now!”
She kissed Beth’s cheek and winked at her nephew, who winked in return.
“Well, Mrs. Sinclair?” he asked his bride. “Shall we? Our carriage awaits, and we dare not dawdle.”
Charles signalled to Granger, and the decorated coach pulled forward. Two footmen assisted Charles and Elizabeth into the ornate carriage’s interior, taking great care with the wedding gown’s train so that it did not wrinkle.
As the horses began trotting, Charles kissed her once more. “Mrs. Sinclair! I never knew two words could be so wonderful or have such meaning to me. Beth, you’ve made me the happiest man alive! With you by my side, I can even face hours of droning well-wishers and endless toasts.”
“There is no joy greater than this, my Captain: to call you husband,” she said, sitting as straight as she could, for the corset was already biting into her flesh.
He laughed. “Husband. It almost sounds like a foreign word after being alone for so many years. You may need to repeat it a thousand times or so, until I grow used to it.”
“Husband, husband, husband,” she whispered, leaning close. “I’ll say it again and again, my darling, if it makes you smile.” She winced, twisting slightly in the seat. “It will be a long day, I fear, and I shall be glad to exchange this dress for something less elegant. Truly, it seems the fancier the gown, the more impossible the torture!”
He put his hand to her waist and felt the whalebone ribs that formed the corset. “I hope you didn’t wear this to impress me,” he said honestly. “I like your natural waistline—prefer it actually.”
She took a careful breath. “As do I, husband. It was not out of vanity that I put on this medieval device, but out of necessity. It seems, I have expanded since Friday. I fear that without the corset, the dress was an inch too small. My waistline widens to make room for your son.”
He touched her waist, lovingly. “How our lives have changed,” he whispered. “If this causes you discomfort, do you prefer changing now? I can ask Granger to take us home first.”
“No, that would take an hour or more, and we’ve guests waiting. I’ll manage, but I doubt I’ll be able to eat much. I shall change as soon as we get back to Queen Anne.”
“And after, we go to our home, Beth. Our home. How I love saying that! Beth, I hope you will always be happy. I want only to see you smile.”
“Captain, I can think of no time when I would not smile in your company—not if you, too, are smiling.”
“In plenty and want, joy and sorrow, sickness and health,” he said, a moment’s worry crossing his thoughts.
“Do I hear darkness in your voice? Charles, no matter what our future holds, the bond betwixt us will never weaken, but only grow stronger. I’ve no fear when you hold me. None at all.”
“Then I promise to hold you always. If not in my arms, then know that you are eternally in my heart.”
As they came to a stop, Charles could see two footmen unrolling a red carpet, leading from the duke’s front door and ending at the coach. “It’s rather like being royalty,” he joked as Granger opened the carriage door, and a footman lowered the steps into place. He and Granger then helped the couple exit the carriage, and Charles took his bride’s arm as they followed the carpeted path up the steps. The entire portico had been festooned with boughs, ribbons, and swags of dried orange blossoms, adding a festive touch to the mansion.
The doors opened, and Booth greeted them, wearing a rare smile. “Congratulations, my lady, my lord. Your Grace, your aunt awaits you in the green room. Lord Haimsbury, may I escort you to the blue room?”
Charles sighed as he watched Beth follow a footman towards the green room, and then disappear behind a set of panelled doors. “Very well, Booth, let’s begin the party, shall we?”
“Very good, sir. You’ll find this room is reserved for family and close friends only. We’ve set out a cold luncheon, available anytime you require nourishment. The formal reception commences in the ballroom in half an hour’s time. Please, take a few moments to relax until then, sir.”
Charles entered and realised at once that it was the very same room where he and Amelia had first met the duke nearly ten years earlier. Standing here now, he thought of his first marriage—and of his son—and prayed Amelia had found peace before her death. I’ve forgiven her, he thought. Finally, I’ve let it all go. It was a freeing moment.
As he took a seat upon the same couch where eleven-year-old Beth had told her grandfather that Charles was to be called ‘Captain’, he found himself weeping. Thank you, Lord! Thank you for converting all these years of pain and sorry into joy and happiness!
His internal reverie was abruptly interrupted by the abrasive call of an all too familiar voice.
“Well done, old man! She’s a looker and loaded.”
Sinclair cringed, but determined not to permit even this lout to disturb the peace of the day, he managed a smile. “Albert Wendaway,” he said, deliberately avoiding the insolent baronet’s title. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
Wendaway, attired in a charcoal cutaway and garish waistcoat of red silk, offered his hand. “Where else would I be today, old man? Got the invite and all, you know. My cousin is around here, somewhere. You remember him, Charles. John Pike. Second son of Sir Winston Pike. A knight, not a baronet, but still he’s kin. I say! You’ve done rather well for yourself. Who’d have thought that beneath that mundane exterior you were actually a marquess—and an important one at that. I’d imagine your properties provide a very pretty income.”
“They suffice,” Sinclair replied vaguely.
Wendaway laughed, his upturned nose crinkling above a ginger moustache. “Droll, old man. Very droll. My banker friend says your portfolio can match any in England, and when you include the Branham properties, why, you’re rich as Croesus! You’ve entered the world of financial power, Cousin. Well done!”
“I’ve no intention of lending you money, Albert. Nor of paying your gambling debts.”
Wendaway laughed, his thick skin impervious to insult. “My debts are paid, old man,” he lied. “And I’ve no need for a loan. However, my friend at Barings has word of a sure-thing, which only a fool would refuse.”
“I’ve my own investment banker,” the marquess began, but the persistent baronet forged ahead nonetheless.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you do, but this man just returned from six months in the Argentine, and he knows of a yet unregistered silver mine that is scratching for investors. He guarantees tripling your money in less than a month. A thousand pounds could net you three thousand; ten, thirty; a hundred could buy the entire mine at this point and leave you in a very pretty position.”
“If your friend is so certain of his facts, have him contact my man at National Provencial. His name is Sir Percival Wilders.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose I could do that, but then Wilders would take his cut of the profits. Or he might neglect to report all your returns, old man.”
Charles wanted to kick the annoying baronet’s bac
kside, but he counted to ten as all the reasons why he detested the shiftless gambler flooded his memory. Then, it occurred to him that if Wendaway were here, then Amelia’s parents could not be far behind. Only seconds after this thought flickered through his mind, Margaret Winstone’s unmistakable, high-pitched laughter rose up and echoed off the panelled walls in the duke’s foyer. Sinclair flinched, fearing his temper, and continued to count well past ten to twenty, thirty, and higher. Before reaching triple digits, a much more welcome voice modified the strident laughter, blending Margaret’s guffaws into a tolerable duet of gentility.
The Earl of Aubrey entered with Adele on his arm.
“Charles, is this not the loveliest of all ladies today—our Beth notwithstanding, of course?”
Albert Wendaway finally stopped talking, turned, and bowed to Adele. His lips curled into a sugary smile. “What a vision you are! Your beauty rivals that of Helen. A face to launch ten thousand ships! I’m Charles’s cousin, Sir Albert Wendaway, at your service. You were marvellous today, Lady Adele. Absolutely smashing.”
Della’s cheeks pinked at the overt praise, but Paul interrupted before she could answer. “You say you’re my cousin’s cousin? Now that is interesting. I don’t recall any Wendaways in the family tree. I’m Lord Aubrey, and Adele is my much beloved sister.”
Wendaway’s right eyelid began to twitch in an odd fashion—something both Charles and Paul noticed—and he offered the earl a tense bow. “Lord Aubrey, your reputation precedes you, sir. You are Lady Adele’s brother? Then, I’m all the more pleased to make your acquaintance, for she cuts a fine figure.”
What little smile remained on Paul’s face vanished completely, and he took a step towards the baronet. “I keep careful watch on my sister, sir. A wise man would do well to remember that.”
Wendaway audibly gulped and moved backwards. “Wisdom is finer than any gold, so they say. Tis a pleasure to meet you—at last.”
Della watched as the young man left to mingle in the foyer. “He’s very handsome,” she said, her face aglow.
The Blood Is the Life Page 49