Denny’s usual grave expression didn’t change. “The young lady declined to say, sir.”
Drew scowled. “I promise you, if it’s Daphne Pomphrey-Hughes ringing up again to find out where the wedding will be, I will carry Madeline bodily from her room and take her to a registrar in London. The rest of you can have the grand supper and that cake which looks more like Everest than a dessert.”
Nick laughed. “Go on and take your call. But if it’s another mystery that wants solving, you’d best tell the woman she has the wrong number.”
Drew’s eyes widened. “There will be absolutely no cases whatsoever until Madeline and I are well and truly married.”
He hurried into the study and picked up the telephone. “Hello?”
“Hello, darling.”
He sank into the chair behind the desk with a relieved sigh. “Madeline. I’m so glad it’s you. I . . . no, wait a minute. Are we supposed to speak to each other before the wedding?”
“It’s all right. I just wanted to thank you, Drew. The pearls are gorgeous. And I have a feeling they come with a history.”
“Indeed they do. My father’s grandmother was given them for her wedding sometime in the middle of the last century. Since then, all the Farthering brides have worn them. None, I daresay, as fetchingly as you.” He leaned back in his chair. “And how is my bride on this her wedding day?”
“Deliriously happy. Terrified. Eager. A little nauseous. I think that mostly covers it.”
He laughed softly at her cheerful confession. “My poor darling. And still with three hours to go.”
“What about you?” she asked. “Have you changed your mind yet?”
“Oh, no. Definitely not.”
“Not the slightest doubt?” she asked.
There was just the hint of a quaver in her voice, and he wished he could rush upstairs and take her into his arms, tradition be hanged.
“Do you want to wait, sweetheart?” He didn’t really want to ask the question, but he thought it would be better asked now than later. Postponing the wedding at this point, awkward as that would be, was far better than having the bride not turn up at the altar. Or, heaven help them, having her flee from it. If she wasn’t certain still, he didn’t want her to feel pressured into anything.
“Darling?” he asked when she didn’t reply. “Are you crying?”
“No,” she said with a sniffle. “No, I’m just . . .”
She is crying.
“Madeline? I don’t want you to do this if you aren’t ready.”
“I am ready, Drew.” She giggled. “Really. The only thing that scares me is how happy I am. I think it can’t be true, and I’m afraid you’ll decide you’d rather not marry me, after all. Especially since I can’t decide whether to laugh or cry.”
He let out a breath. “Just jitters, darling. I suppose all brides have them.”
“You’re not nervous, Drew? Not at all?”
“No. I’ve been sure of you since I first met you. It’s as if I’ve been trying to solve a puzzle for ever so long, and with you all the pieces just seemed to have fallen into place.” He chuckled. “But you did devil me terribly when you were deciding if you felt the same way.”
“I wasn’t deciding. I just wanted to make sure you were serious and that I wasn’t just infatuated.”
“Your aunt wouldn’t have allowed such nonsense for long, I don’t think,” Drew said. “And you’d likely still be wondering about me if she hadn’t insisted I was a cad and up to no good.”
“Well, she was right.”
“Steady on there.”
She giggled. “I mean she was right that if I wasn’t sure enough about you to defend you to her, I had no business marrying you. And I do want to marry you. I’m just a little giddy, that’s all. I can’t quite believe it’s happening at last.”
“It very definitely is happening. Now go do whatever it is you brides do before you appear in all your radiant glory, and I’ll just sit here counting the minutes until the time arrives.”
“I love you, Drew,” she said, “and I will see you at three.”
She made a little smack of a kiss into the telephone and then rang off, and he had to smile. Three o’clock could not arrive soon enough.
The low winter sun shone bright through the windows, staining the stone floor of the church, adding touches of color to the white of the candles, the great bouquets of roses, and the organza that had been draped from pew to pew. Between the invited guests and the parishioners who had also come, there wasn’t a spare seat in the place, and most everyone else from the village were lined up on either side of the path that led from the road to the church door. They huddled together with coats and wraps over their Sunday best, smiling and chattering away as they waited for the much-anticipated arrival of the bride.
How long had Drew been standing here? Only a few minutes, no doubt, although it seemed much longer than that. He scanned the pews for the hundredth time.
“Where’s Bunny?”
“Late as always,” Nick said. “Or he forgot the date. Or where the church was located. Or he noticed someone’s new motor car outside the post office or something.”
“Or something,” Drew grumbled.
Aunt Ruth was there in the front pew, looking lovely in rose-colored silk, so Madeline must be dressed and ready. He ran one finger inside his suddenly tight collar.
Nick grinned at him. “Not at all nervous, eh?”
Drew narrowed his eyes, not wanting anyone in the congregation to see him scowling just now. “It’s deuced hot, that’s all.”
“It’s cold as stone in here and you know it.” Nick chuckled. “She’ll be here. Don’t worry.”
Drew looked up at the window above the altar, at the lovely old stained glass that colored the sunshine. Christ in His glory, beckoning all who would come to Him, His expression gentle, merciful, loving.
Drew closed his eyes. How could he possibly thank Him for Madeline? He thought of Landis and the torment Fleur had put him through, a torment that, despite his stumbling, Drew had been spared. He thought of Simone Cullimore, who had lived for years with her husband’s unfaithfulness. He thought of Tess Davidson, who hadn’t been loved at all.
And then there was Madeline.
He swallowed down the tightness in his throat. There was Madeline. Help me, dear God, to love her as you love her, to give myself for her as you did, and to thank you daily for the gift you’ve given me in her.
As Mrs. Bartlett began playing the wedding march, Nick gave him a subtle elbow to the ribs. Drew opened his eyes, suddenly aware of nothing but the slender, graceful vision in lace and white slipper satin walking arm in arm beside Carrie’s father, her veil falling almost to her feet in front and stretched for yards behind her, and a little cameo of an angel over her heart. His bride at last. Oh, sweet Madeline.
He stood there frozen, until Nick nudged him again and gave him a little push toward where she was standing. Evidently, Mr. Holland was giving this woman to be married here today, and Drew was certainly not going to miss out on the offer.
He moved to Madeline’s side and took her hand. It was trembling slightly in his, and somehow that steadied him as he said his vows. By some miracle they came out clear, composed and coherent, and before he knew it, he was sliding a smooth band of gold onto Madeline’s finger. Then he swiftly brought the back of her hand to his lips, pressing it with a fervent kiss. It wasn’t really part of the ceremony, but he didn’t care.
She touched her free hand to his cheek and then, when he was standing straight again, she took up his ring, her hand warm and soft as she put the gleaming gold on his finger. He drew a hard breath at her touch, blinking to clear his blurred sight, and afterward they both lifted their eyes to Mr. Bartlett.
“Insomuch as Ellison Andrew and Madeline Felicity have consented to live forever together in wedlock, I pronounce that they are husband and wife.” He nodded serenely to the bride and groom. “You may now seal the promises you have mad
e to each other with a kiss.”
Drew gathered up her veil, lifted the frothy white lace over her head, and let it fall back with the part that trailed behind her. Her eyes sought his, bluer and more lovely than ever for the tears that stood in them. Her mouth was turned up, poised for his kiss. He took both of her hands in his and leaned down, touching her lips with a reverent and holy kiss. Then, because one was not nearly enough, he grinned slyly and kissed her again. She caught her breath and threw her arms around him, laughing for pure joy.
There was a murmur of surprise and a ripple of laughter through the congregation. From the front pew, Aunt Ruth gave Drew a look of stern reproof, yet there was a twinkle in her eyes, too.
Drew and Madeline quickly signed the register, and then together they began walking down the center aisle again. Madeline stopped to give her aunt a kiss and a hug. Drew took the older woman’s hand and bent to kiss it, but she pulled him into a hug, as well.
“You be good to my girl,” she said, her voice soft.
He gave her a wink and a kiss on the cheek, then took Madeline’s hand again. With the congregation pouring out behind them and the merry church bells ringing, they stepped into the December sunshine. Waiting for them there in the middle of more well-wishers stood a chimney sweep, brushes, soot and all.
Madeline’s brow wrinkled. “Drew?”
Drew laughed as he reached to shake the young man’s hand. “Well, well, if it isn’t Geordie Jenkins.” He turned to Madeline. “Darling, this is Geordie Jenkins, and he is about to kiss you.”
Madeline smiled, but he could see the wariness in her eyes.
“It has long been thought to be very good luck,” he explained, “for a bride to see a chimney sweep on her wedding day. Even better if the groom gets a handshake and the bride a kiss.”
The chimney sweep touched his cap, his teeth showing white in his blackened face. “If you please, missus. I’ll mind not to get soot on your lovely dress.”
“Go on, missus,” someone from the crowd called, and others began to urge her on.
With a giggle she offered the sweep her cheek. Just as he touched his lips to it, there was the flash of a camera. After a few more pictures and many more farewells, Drew spotted someone trying to sneak away at the back of the crowd.
“Oh, no, you don’t!”
But Chief Inspector Birdsong only gave him an approving nod and a tip of his best hat before hurrying off, his placid-looking wife in tow.
Madeline grinned at Drew as Carrie went to hug her.
“You two be happy, you hear me?” Carrie said.
“We will,” Madeline promised, and Drew kissed Carrie’s cheek.
“Here now,” Nick protested, “you’ve already got a girl.”
Madeline leaned over and kissed Nick’s cheek before he realized what she was doing. “There,” she said. “We’re all even now.”
Nick gave Drew a smug look, and Drew shoved his shoulder.
“Those are all legally mine at this point,” Drew said, “and I’m keeping detailed records from here on out.”
“Fair enough,” said Nick, throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “All the best, old man. You’ve done well for yourself, and don’t you forget it.”
“Believe me, Nick, I know. I know.”
With a laugh, Drew pulled Madeline into his arms and kissed her once more. Then, under a shower of rice and cheers and laughter, they ran hand in hand down the path to the road.
Acknowledgments
To my very dear agent and friend, Wendy Lawton, for her much-needed wisdom.
To all my writer friends, near and far, for being a wonderful source of information and encouragement.
And, always, to my dad, my number-one fan.
I thank God for you all.
Julianna Deering, author of Rules of Murder and Death by the Book, is the pen name of the multi-published novelist DeAnna Julie Dodson. DeAnna has always been an avid reader and a lover of storytelling, whether on the page, the screen, or the stage. This, together with her keen interest in history and her Christian faith, shows in her tales of love, forgiveness, and triumph over adversity. A fifth-generation Texan, she makes her home north of Dallas, along with three spoiled cats. When not writing, DeAnna spends her free time quilting, cross-stitching, and watching NHL hockey. Learn more at JuliannaDeering.com.
Books by Julianna Deering
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From Bethany House Publishers
THE DREW FARTHERING MYSTERIES
Rules of Murder
Death by the Book
Murder at the Mikado
Resources: bethanyhouse.com/AnOpenBook
Website: www.bethanyhouse.com
Facebook: Bethany House
Murder at the Mikado Page 28