Once upstairs in the privacy of her room, she slid out of her dress and petticoats and went to stand in front of the cheval mirror. A young woman with a sad face stared back at her as she studied her body appraisingly. Her breasts were pert and high, although nowhere near large enough to be considered voluptuous, and her hips were rounded but still slim, as was her flat stomach. She had never really bothered to study her own figure before, but now suddenly she was very aware that Henry would be seeing her undressed soon and she wondered if she would be a disappointment to him? Just the thought of standing naked before a man made her break out in a hot sweat, and she hastily pulled a clean gown on as she turned abruptly from the mirror.
Henry arrived soon after and Opal reluctantly went downstairs to greet him.
‘So, did you manage to choose your gown?’ he asked, smiling.
She nodded as he linked her arm through his, and led her into the drawing room where his mother was reading the newspaper. Mrs King loved her newspapers; she said they helped her to keep abreast of what was happening in the world and she read each one from cover to cover every day.
‘I was thinking that we should really be putting together a list of who you wish to invite to the wedding,’ she told them after greeting her son. ‘Then we shall have to choose the invitations.’
‘Oh . . . but I did say I didn’t want a fuss,’ Opal said in a panic. ‘And I don’t really know many people to invite, except perhaps my old neighbours.’
Mrs King laughed and patted her hand. She had no intentions of allowing such lowly working-class people to attend, although she didn’t tell Opal that. ‘You just leave that side of it to us,’ she advised. ‘Oh, and I forgot to tell you that I’ve spoken to the vicar at Chilvers Coton church and arranged for you both to go and see him tomorrow to set the date. He thinks he has the second Saturday in June free.’
Opal gulped but said nothing. It was all becoming very real now.
Oh Charlie, I miss you so much! she cried silently. But as Henry squeezed close to her on the sofa, she managed to raise a weak smile.
Chapter Thirty-Three
‘Will Henry not be dining with us this evening?’ Opal enquired, as she and Mrs King took their seats at the dining table on the eve of the wedding.
‘He most certainly will not!’ Mrs King opened her napkin and laid it across her lap. ‘He isn’t happy about it, but I told him in no uncertain terms that he would not be welcome. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride on the eve of the wedding.’
‘Oh.’ Opal wondered why, although she felt vaguely relieved.
‘And anyway . . .’ For the first time since Opal had known her, Mrs King seemed to be slightly uncomfortable. ‘I thought it would give us a chance to have a little chat . . . you know, about the birds and the bees.’
Deeply embarrassed, Opal nodded.
‘You see, it suddenly occurred to me that, seeing as your mother isn’t here to talk to you, you might not know what to expect on your wedding night?’
‘I, er . . . think I have a good idea.’
‘Good.’ Mrs King became silent as Belle entered carrying the soup tureen. Once she had served them both and left, the old woman went on, ‘I’m afraid sex’ – she said it as if it was a dirty word – ‘is something we women have to put up with as part of married life. The men always seem to enjoy it far more than we do, but I would advise you to just lie back and endure it. They say that if a wife keeps her husband happy in the bedroom, it will stop him straying, although I have to say I know of many instances where this hasn’t been the case. My own husband had a wandering eye.’ She chuckled. ‘He thought I didn’t know about it, but I actually welcomed his little flings. While someone else was keeping him satisfied, I didn’t have to.’
Opal blushed and almost choked on the mouthful of soup she had just lifted to her mouth.
‘Is there anything you would like to ask me, my dear?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Opal’s voice came out as a croak, and thankfully the subject was dropped.
Soon after dinner, she excused herself to go to her room, although sleep eluded her and the dawn was breaking before she fell into an uneasy doze.
The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. As beautiful a day as any bride could wish for, and Belle woke Opal early with her breakfast and a pot of tea on a tray.
‘I thought the bride should have breakfast in bed,’ she chirped brightly as she laid the tray down and crossed to swish the curtains aside, allowing the morning sun to flood into the room. She frowned as Opal stared groggily back at her. ‘What’s up? Had a bad night, have you? That’ll be pre-weddin’ nerves. But come along now; get something inside you and then we’d better start to get you ready. You have to look your best today of all days!’
‘Eh, miss.’ There was a catch in Belle’s voice sometime later, as she stared at Opal’s reflection in the cheval mirror. ‘You look just beautiful.’ She raised her hand to pull the tiny veil on Opal’s bonnet down over her face. Then, crossing to the dressing table, she picked up the fragrant bouquet that had been delivered earlier.
‘Mrs King said to tell you she’ll see you at the church, miss. She’s already gone on ahead.’
Opal nodded and stared into the mirror; she hardly recognised herself. The dress Mrs King had chosen for her was beautiful – everything was beautiful. So why am I not feeling happy? she wondered.
They both started at the sound of a carriage coming down the drive and after running to the window, Belle clapped her hands. ‘Ooh, your carriage is here, miss.’ She leaned forward and, lifting Opal’s veil, she kissed her gently on the cheek. Opal was touched to see that there were tears in her eyes. ‘Good luck an’ don’t forget us. I’ll . . . I’ll miss you.’
‘I shall miss you too,’ Opal admitted, but Belle flapped her hand at her.
‘All right, but don’t start cryin’. The mistress will have me guts for garters if she thinks I’ve upset you.’ She gently ushered Opal towards the door.
At the bottom of the stairs, Opal found the rest of the staff assembled to see her off. Cries of ooh and aah were heard as they caught a glimpse of her, and then they were all wishing her well as she went out to the carriage. Her clothes and personal things had been taken to Henry’s house during the previous week, so all that remained now was to become his wife. The next time she visited Hollow’s House, it would be as Mrs King’s daughter-in-law.
The staff poured out on to the steps to wave her off, and when they were lost to sight Opal settled herself back as the horses clip clopped down Griff Hollows.
Once at the church, she walked to the entrance, wishing with all her heart that her father was there to give her away. But then the organ began to play and everyone turned to catch a glimpse of the bride, so she gathered her courage and began her lonely journey down the aisle. Henry was waiting for her looking very smart in a grey tail suit and an intricately embroidered waistcoat with matching cravat, and he stared at her so hungrily that she almost felt as if he was already undressing her.
The service, conducted by the Reverend Lockett, went without a hitch and after what seemed like a lifetime the newly-weds emerged into the sunshine to a shower of rice and rose petals. Opal looked around at the sea of smiling faces, realising with a little jolt that she hardly knew any of them, except for Esther Partridge and her mother. Esther’s face was as black as thunder and Opal hastily averted her eyes, surprised that Esther had bothered to come – but then, she supposed, this had turned into something of a society occasion, and Esther wouldn’t want to miss that. Suddenly two more faces she recognised advanced on her and her new husband with broad smiles on their faces. They were Peter Dawson-Myers – whose ball she had attended on Christmas Eve – and his wife, Emma, who looked resplendent in a light-green costume with a matching bonnet
‘Congratulations.’ Peter shook Henry’s hand and pecked Opal on the cheek. And then, to her shock, a face that she had dreamed of on so many occasions stepped
from behind him and Opal’s heart lurched. It was Matthew, the man she had danced with at the ball – the man she had been unable to forget. He too congratulated Henry; then he turned to Opal, whose cheeks were suddenly burning.
He smiled. ‘May I say you look beautiful?’ His eyes were twinkling just as she remembered them. ‘I’m so sorry my wife couldn’t be here. She hasn’t been well recently and felt that the journey might be too much for her, but I didn’t want to miss the chance to come and congratulate you both. Henry and I have known each other for a long time.’
‘Thank you . . . I hope your wife will be well again soon.’ Opal was at a loss as to what to say to him. He had that effect on her, although she couldn’t imagine why that should be. He was just a man she had met at the ball after all. ‘W-will you be staying long?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I have to get back to my wife and daughter. I shall be setting off back to London later this afternoon. Probably round about the time you and Henry are leaving for your honeymoon. I hope you enjoy it.’
Thankfully she was saved from answering as Henry turned back to her and placed his arm possessively around her waist. She watched, her heart aflutter, as Matthew stepped back and was lost amongst the crowd gathered around the church doors. Henry led her to the waiting carriage and they set off for the George Hotel in the marketplace, where Henry had organised a wedding breakfast fit for a king for them and their guests.
As they took their seats in the lavishly decorated dining room, Opal scanned the room for a sight of Matthew, and she felt inexplicably sad when she didn’t see him. The wine began to flow like water, and she was faintly disturbed to see that Henry was drinking glass after glass. She was aware they had a very long journey ahead of them that day, as they would be taking the train to Dover later in the afternoon before boarding a ship to France, and she was alternately looking forward to it and dreading it. She had never ventured even as far as the coast before and it felt as if she would be going to the other side of the world.
Finally, though, Henry lurched to his feet to make a toast and she had no more time to think of it. He was clearly more than a little drunk as he raised his glass and stared down at her.
‘I would like you all to raish a toasht to my little virgin wife,’ he slurred, and she lowered her eyes as humiliation flooded through her. Thankfully his mother was close at hand and she instantly stepped in.
‘Henry, I’m sure that is quite enough,’ she said with a cold smile at the guests. ‘And now perhaps we should continue with the meal.’
Henry sat back down like a naughty little boy who had been reprimanded, and the waiters and waitresses brought out course after course of delicious food. Under other circumstances, Opal was sure that she would have enjoyed it, but today everything tasted like sawdust and seemed to stick in her throat, so she ate very little.
At last it was over and the guests began to drift away. Henry had booked a bedroom where they could change into their travelling outfits and he grinned at her lewdly as he suggested, ‘Shall we go to our room then, my dear?’
‘Opal can; I’ve booked a maid to help her get changed and you can go up when she comes down,’ his mother informed him bossily.
Just for a second Henry scowled, but then he nodded. ‘Very well. I shall have another little drink down here while I wait.’
‘You most certainly will not! I think you have had far too much already,’ Mrs King scolded. ‘I have ordered us a pot of coffee, so come and sit down here by me. And you, dear, go up and get changed.’
In that moment, Opal could have kissed her and, only too happy to do as she was told, she fled from the room. Just as Mrs King had promised a young maid was waiting on the landing of the hotel for her and after leading her to a bedroom Opal saw that her outfit was laid out ready for her. It was a pale-bronze colour and was definitely the most beautiful two-piece costume she had ever seen, with a fitted jacket and a full skirt; there was also a little hat trimmed with feathers, with a bag and shoes to match. Once again Opal barely recognised herself as she looked in the mirror.
‘You look lovely, if yer don’t mind me sayin’ so, Mrs King,’ the young maid said and Opal gasped. Mrs King she had called her! Mrs King! She was no longer Opal Sharp but Mrs Henry King. From now on she would be addressed as ma’am rather than miss. It was going to take some getting used to.
‘Thank you.’ She inclined her head and after picking up her bag, she descended the stairs where she waited with her mother-in-law while Henry got changed.
Henry was still somewhat inebriated when he rejoined them, and his mother tutted disapprovingly.
‘Come along, the carriage is waiting outside to take you to the station,’ she told him and once outside she pecked Opal on the cheek and whispered, ‘Don’t forget what I told you, just lie back and it will be over in no time.’
Despite feeling nervous, Opal enjoyed the train ride, even more so because within minutes of the train pulling out of the station, Henry’s head lolled to one side and he started to snore loudly enough to wake the dead. She smiled wryly as she stared at the passing fields beyond the window. If this is the effect drink has on him, I shall have to encourage him to drink more often, she thought, and a wicked little grin played about her lips.
Hours later, they boarded the ship that would take them across the Channel. A steward showed them to their cabin and despite being nervous about the night ahead Opal was looking forward to visiting France.
‘I shall go to the bar and give you time to get changed, my dear,’ Henry told her, and she nodded as she began to unpack the small overnight case that Belle had packed for her. Once undressed she washed hastily, took the pins from her hair then leaped into bed with her heart thudding as she stared fearfully at the door. The minutes ticked away and Opal felt her eyes grow heavy, and then she knew no more until the steward knocked on the door. Starting awake, Opal was shocked to see Henry lying beside her fully clothed with his mouth hanging slackly open, making him look like a goldfish. Light was pouring through the porthole, and after hastily climbing out of the bed and putting her wrap on, she opened the door for the steward who was bearing a tray of tea.
‘We should be in port within an hour, ma’am,’ he informed her, and she smiled her thanks. Once he had gone, she poured herself a cup, but Henry snored on, so she dressed quickly and fixed her hair. Mrs King had instilled in her the importance of wearing it up at all times now – apparently, it was only unmarried women who wore their hair loose. When she was ready, she peeped out of the porthole. She could see the dock in the distance and was a little disappointed to note that it looked no different to the one they had sailed from. Then, knowing that she had no choice, she reluctantly shook Henry’s arm.
As his bloodshot eyes flickered open, she smiled at him apologetically. ‘I’m sorry to wake you but we shall be arriving in the port shortly. Would you like a cup of tea?’
He groaned as his hand rose to his head. Then realising where he was, he dragged himself up on to one elbow, looking very sorry for himself indeed.
‘My dear Opal. I cannot apologise enough for my behaviour. I only meant to have one drink, but I was feeling so happy that somehow one turned to two and . . .’ His voice trailed away as she handed him a cup of tea.
‘It’s quite all right,’ she assured him, as she began to repack her small valise. ‘But perhaps when you have drunk that we should be going up on deck?’
‘Of course.’ He gulped at the tea as she tried to suppress a smug little smile that came to her face. But it didn’t last for long; she had avoided the inevitable the night before, but it still lay ahead of her and very soon she would have to become Henry’s wife in all ways. The thought filled her with dread.
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘The chateau is very pretty, isn’t it?’ Henry said, when they finally arrived late that evening. It had been another long day travelling and Opal felt as if she could have slept for a week.
‘In truth it was too dark for me to se
e much of the outside,’ Opal admitted. ‘But the inside is charming.’
Henry had hired the chateau for a week for the first part of their honeymoon and they would be alone there apart from a cook and a maid. As she spoke, she was undoing one of their cases but Henry snapped the lid shut again.
‘Leave that for now. I shall get the maid to unpack it. Let’s go down for a meal, shall we? I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.’ The journey had taken them much longer than Henry had thought it would, so he was grateful that there was a meal waiting.
Opal reluctantly followed him from the room and as she passed a window on the landing she saw the moon shining down on the sea beyond.
‘I believe we have our own private beach here,’ Henry told her cheerfully. ‘Perhaps tomorrow we could go and have a look at it?’
‘Yes, that would be nice.’ They descended the stairs where a young French maid directed them to the dining room in broken English.
The dining room was very elaborate and lit by candles in crystal chandeliers hung over the entire length of the enormous mahogany table. Places had been set at one end of it, and they were barely seated before the maid bustled in carrying a large silver soup tureen.
‘It is soupe à l’oignon.’
As Opal looked at Henry questioningly, he explained, ‘It is a French soup made of onions and beef stock with croutons and melted cheese on top.’
Opal had thought she would be too nervous to eat, but when she tried a mouthful it was so delicious that she suddenly realised how hungry she was and cleared her bowl in minutes.
The Winter Promise Page 25