The preparations were now finished; the glasses had been washed and polished; the sandwiches cut and the flowers arranged, but the girls continued to chat.
Then suddenly Sylvia exclaimed, “Heavens, look at the time!” and with that everyone rose hastily and went away.
Louise and Bel walked down to the gate to see them off and Bel was interested to notice that the Musgrave family had divided differently. Rose went away in her mother’s car and Margaret Warren and Bernard with Sylvia Newbigging.
“It’s because they live quite near,” explained Louise. “The Warrens have a dear little house; it stands high and has a lovely view. You like Meg, don’t you?”
“I like them all,” declared Bel.
*
2
Some time before, when Bel had been staying with Louise, the two girls had gone to St. Michael’s Church to the early morning Communion Service and Bel had been so impressed with the peace and beauty of the little church that she wanted her wedding to be there. Naturally the church looked quite different when Bel arrived with Dr. Armstrong in the large Daimler lent for the occasion by Lady Steyne.
To begin with there was a striped awning outside the porch, and a crowd of sightseers who had gathered to see the bride. There were women with prams, errand-boys with baskets, and small children chewing gum or sucking lollipops; there was even a fairly large contingent of men—most of them ancient—in the crowd. They all gazed with interest at the bride and at the thrilling spectacle of their own dear Dr. Armstrong attired in morning-dress with a grey tall hat upon his head and a white carnation in his buttonhole.
The crowd alarmed Bel so much that she stumbled in getting out of the car and might have fallen if Dr. Armstrong had not been there to catch her.
“Cheer up! It’ll soon be over,” he said encouragingly as he guided her up the steps.
One of the women in the crowd giggled hysterically and whispered to her companion. “That’s wot ’e sed ter me when I was ’aving my first.”
Louise was waiting at the door. She was the only bridesmaid, and looked even more ravishing than usual in a pale green frock and a black picture-hat. She seized Bel and arranged her dress and whispered to her father, “The other side, Daddy.”
“What?” asked the doctor.
“You’re the wrong side,” said Louise taking hold of him and forcibly changing his position. “Go on, they’ve begun,” she added.
The church was brightly lighted. It seemed full of people—all standing up and singing. The altar was a mass of flowers.
Bel was terrified. All these people had come to look at her. All the singing and the flowers were for her benefit. Her heart beat madly and her knees felt as if they were made of brown paper. She clung to the doctor’s arm and they began to walk up the aisle together, with Louise close behind.
Then Bel saw Ellis. There he was, waiting for her, looking at her and smiling reassuringly—and suddenly it was all right. Suddenly there was nobody else in the church except Ellis—nobody else in the world.
*
3
After that it was all a dream. Bel felt quite different from her usual self, she felt big and brave and beautiful. This girl—who was not Bel, but someone else quite different—was able to take her proper part in the service and make her vows in a clear sweet voice which could be heard all over the church. In the vestry, which was small and full of people, this girl was not the slightest bit nervous. Someone put a pen in to her hand and she signed her name without a tremor: Beatrice Elizabeth Lamington. It wouldn’t be Bel any more of course, thought Bel, looking at her signature rather wistfully.
The excited talk going on all round her did not trouble her in the least. Ellis kissed her—everyone kissed her. She was suddenly enveloped in a bear-like hug by an enormous man whom she had never seen in her life.
“It’s only Uncle Bob,” whispered Ellis, seizing her hand and holding it in a warm encouraging clasp.
Soon after this the door was opened and the organ played and the bride and bridegroom walked down the aisle together, smiling happily, followed by their friends and relations, two by two in correct order—as arranged by Louise.
The crowd was still waiting at the porch, but it was not in the least alarming. The bride smiled at it in a friendly manner and waved her hand.
It was still a dream when the bride and bridegroom arrived at Coombe House. The drawing-room looked strange—as things always do in a dream. The comfortable furniture had vanished, the room was empty except for a few chairs and a sofa, pushed into the corner, a glistening wedding-cake and masses of flowers.
“Are you all right, darling?” inquired Ellis anxiously, for somehow or other his newly-acquired wife seemed rather unlike herself.
“Yes, of course,” she replied smiling happily.
“You didn’t mind Uncle Bob kissing you like that?”
“No, of course not.”
There was no time to say more. People began to arrive: Louise with Reggie Stephenson; Dr. Armstrong with Mrs. Brownlee and Uncle Bob. After that a whole string of guests all talking and laughing excitedly; all kissing the bride and the bridegroom—or shaking hands—and wishing them long life and happiness.
It was all a dream, even when Bel looked up and saw Mark Desborough standing beside her. As a matter of fact she scarcely recognised him for she had never seen him all dressed up like this.
Mark did not voice the conventional good wishes; as he took her hand he said, “The girl who married her boss!”
Bel was not angry nor embarrassed, she laughed merrily and exclaimed, “Hallo Mark! Yes, he was such a good boss that she took him for better for worse.”
“As her boss, I suppose?”
“Yes, of course. Didn’t you hear her say ‘obey’?”
“Gosh, you’re quite different!” said Mark in amazement.
He could say no more for he was pushed aside by a beautifully dressed young woman with dazzling golden hair.
“Rhoda darling!” cried Bel. “How marvellous to see you!”
“I had to come,” declared Rhoda Dering Johnstone as she hugged Bel affectionately. “I just abandoned my family. I had to make certain you were properly married. When I start something I like to see it through.”
“I hope you’re certain we’re properly married,” said Ellis laughing.
“Perfectly certain,” she replied. “I heard every word. I heard you take each other for better for worse and I hope you’ll be every bit as happy as James and I. It’s the best thing I can wish you.” She added, “I must kiss Ellis—he’s such a lamb.”
“Of course you must kiss him!” cried Bel.
*
4
There had been some argument as to who should be asked to propose the healths of the bride and bridegroom. Mrs. Brownlee had suggested her brother, but Ellis had refused quite definitely to have him, saying that Uncle Bob would gas for hours and make a lot of idiotic jokes. Bel had wanted Dr. Armstrong, but the doctor pointed out that it was quite enough work to escort the bride to the altar and give her away. Someone else must propose the health—why not Mr. Copping?
Everyone agreed to this suggestion, so Mr. Copping had been asked to make the speech.
None of the other guests knew Mr. Copping, of course, but perhaps that was all to the good . . . and when he stood up to propose the toast it was obvious that he had been the right choice. Tall and thin with silver hair and light-blue eyes he looked so distinguished; he looked every inch the important personage which he undoubtedly was.
Mr. Copping began by saying it was a great honour to have been asked to propose this toast. It gave him great pleasure to do so because he knew the bride and bridegroom very well indeed. He had known Bel’s parents years ago—her father, a distinguished officer in the army; her mother charming and as pretty as a picture. With parents like these it was not surprising that Bel was such a delightful girl. Mr. Copping said he was sure they would all agree that she was one of the prettiest brides they had
ever seen, but he knew Bel and he could tell them that her beauty was not skin deep. She was beautiful all through. His friend and partner, Ellis Brownlee, was exceedingly clever and capable and had shown these qualities in his choice of a wife. Ellis was a lucky fellow to have won such a prize—there was no doubt of that—but Bel was fortunate too. One would have to travel far to find a better fellow than Ellis. These two were admirably suited to each other and they would be happy, he was sure.
“They are strangers to you,” declared Mr. Copping. “But they are coming to live near you, so they won’t be strangers for long, and when you get to know them you’ll realise that every word I’ve said is true. I can’t help feeling that you will be very fortunate to have them as neighbours at Fletchers End—and, as I look round the room, I feel certain that they too will be fortunate in their neighbours.”
Mr. Copping smiled and held up his glass. “I ask you to join me in drinking the toast of health and happiness to these young people and may they live a long useful life together in their chosen home!”
The little speech was neither witty nor amusing but it was dignified and utterly sincere. It was received with applause.
“Dear old boy!” whispered Ellis to Bel.
“Yes, he’s a pet,” she replied. “I’m enjoying it all tremendously, aren’t you?”
This was so unlike Bel, who usually was as shy as a mouse, that he became more anxious about her than before.
Ellis’s speech was merely the conventional expressions of gratitude on behalf of himself and his wife to all the kind people who had helped to make this day so happy and memorable. He had prepared several little bon mots but unfortunately they had vanished from his mind in the agitation of the moment.
It was now Reggie’s turn to play his part in the proceedings, but instead of reading the pile of telegrams, which was his duty as best man, he began to talk about Fletchers End, a subject which was occupying his mind to the exclusion of everything else. He talked about the exquisite beauty of the old house and the strength of its construction and about all his wonderful plans to make it still more beautiful. At first his audience was interested and amused but when Reggie forgot himself in his excitement, and talked about stresses and strains and other technical matters, which nobody present could understand, the bridegroom decided that it was time to call a halt.
“Dry up, Reggie,” said the bridegroom, poking his friend in the back. “You aren’t supposed to be giving a lecture on architecture.”
Poor Reggie dried up suddenly in the middle of a sentence and everybody laughed.
The telegrams were forgotten, (which was just as well for no doubt they were quite as boring and repetitive as telegrams on these occasions usually are) so the wedding guests were free to enjoy themselves and did so without delay, chatting and laughing and making a tremendous din, drinking champagne, eating large chunks of indigestible cake and dropping the crumbs on the floor.
The bride was free to enjoy herself too, and, as she was still walking about in a dream, she was able to talk to all the guests and say the correct thing—thereby winning golden opinions. She spoke to Mr. Copping and congratulated him on his excellent speech and said how sorry she was that his son was unable to be here. She spoke to Mrs. Musgrave and said that Rose was looking charming—which was perfectly true. She had a pleasant chat with Mr. Whitehead, the vicar. (Mr. Whitehead had not been mentioned by Louise in her list of guests, which was curious considering that the wedding could not have been celebrated without him). She had a few words with Miss Penney and thanked her for the flower arrangements in Church, which were perfectly beautiful, and expressed her regret that Lady Steyne had a slight cold and was not able to come. She was seized upon by her mother-in-law and introduced to ‘Aunt Catherine’ and to all the friends who had come from Beckenham for the occasion. It was not very easy to detach herself from these kind people—she could never have managed it if she had been her ordinary everyday self—but to-day she managed it graciously. After that she had a talk with Rhoda and inquired after all the people at Tassieknowe Farm—not forgetting Mr. Sutherland, the shepherd, and his wife—and was glad to hear that they were flourishing.
Then the bride spoke to a short, stout cheerful-looking man, whom she afterwards discovered was Dr. Whittaker—the doctor whose practice was at Shepherdsford—he told her he knew Fletchers End well and had always admired the old house. She had a word with Mr. Nelson and Miss Snow, who seemed to have come together and were sticking together somewhat shyly. Both were impeccably turned out and looked quite different from their usual selves. After that she chatted to several other guests whose names she did not know and she was about to speak to Margaret Warren and her husband when suddenly she was swept away by Louise and conducted upstairs to change into the neat new coat and skirt, and a fur coat—a present from Dr. Armstrong—which she was wearing for the flight to Paris.
“Bel, are you feeling all right?” asked Louise.
“Yes, of course,” said Bel happily. “It has been a lovely wedding, everyone is so nice.”
“You seem—different.”
“Yes, of course,” repeated Bel. “I’m not me at all. I’m someone else.”
“But that’s dreadful!” Louise exclaimed in dismay. “I don’t want you to be someone else! I mean I want you to go on being you.”
“It’s a dream, that’s all,” said Bel reassuringly. “I expect I shall wake up sooner or later and be just as shy and silly as ever.”
“But we’ll always be friends, won’t we?” asked Louise with sudden misgiving.
“Yes, of course,” replied Bel—she seemed to be saying the same thing over and over again but she could not help it—“Yes, of course, darling Louise,” said Bel. “Of course we’ll always be the greatest friends. Next to Ellis I love you best in all the world.”
This delightful answer, accompanied by a loving hug, ought to have reassured Louise, but it did not assure her entirely for somehow it was unlike Bel to be able to put her inmost feelings into felicitous words.
Ellis was ready now so the bride and bridegroom ran downstairs together; they were seized and embraced by their friends and relations, patted on their backs and pelted with confetti in the usual uncomfortable manner. They managed to escape, fled out of the front-door, scrambled into the waiting car and drove away.
*
5
After the departure of the leading lady and gentleman the party seemed to sag; the usual feeling of anti-climax affected the guests and they began to drift away. They all said they had enjoyed themselves immensely and what a successful wedding it had been! Quite soon Louise and her father were left alone amongst the débris, alone with the remains of the wedding-cake and a few bottles of champagne. There were crumbs on the carpet and cigarette-ends in the ash-trays and an enormous number of empty glasses scattered about the room, but Louise was too tired to bother about them to-night.
“They all said it was a successful wedding,” said Louise, trying to chase away the forlorn feeling in her heart.
“Yes, they did,” agreed the doctor. “I noticed they all said that. I wonder what an unsuccessful wedding is like.”
“Don’t be silly, Daddy!”
“All sorts of things might happen,” said the doctor thoughtfully. “For instance if you hadn’t been there I might have taken the bride up the aisle on the wrong arm and got married to her by mistake. I wouldn’t have minded, of course—I can think of worse fates than being married to Bel—but Ellis might have been annoyed.”
“Don’t tease, Daddy.”
“I was only trying to cheer you up,” he explained. “You look a bit under the weather, Lou. What’s the matter?”
“Bel was different,” replied Louise sadly. “I didn’t realise that being married would make her different.”
Dr. Armstrong smiled. “It will wear off,” he said. “Don’t worry, Lou. You’ll get your own dear Bel back again, the same as ever—or very nearly.”
“Very nearly?”
/> “Well—yes,” said the doctor, taking up his morning paper which until this moment he had been too busy to read. “You can’t expect her to be exactly the same. Marriage is a mysterious thing, you know. Perhaps you were too fussed to listen to the service this afternoon.”
“What do you mean, Daddy?” asked Louise in surprise.
“It’s an excellent mystery,” said the doctor chuckling. “Look it up and you’ll see.”
part two
Winter in London
Chapter Nine
When the Brownlees flew home from Paris where they had been spending their honeymoon they took up their abode in Bel’s small flat.
Ellis had gone straight to the office to see what had been happening in his absence so Bel arrived at the flat alone. Her heart sank when she opened the door and went in for, after the palatial room in the Paris hotel, it seemed even smaller than usual; it seemed terribly cramped and shabby, and of course it was very dirty. The flat had been shut up for a fortnight and sooty dust from the neighbouring chimneys had filtered in through the ill-fitting window-frames.
Would Ellis be happy in this queer little place?
Of course Ellis knew the flat—he had been here often—and it was his idea that they should spend the winter here, but Bel was aware that it was one thing to visit the flat for supper and quite another thing to live in it, day in and day out.
However it was no good worrying; there was far too much to be done. Bel put on a large overall and set to work to clean the rooms and to prepare supper—she had stopped on the way home to buy necessary food. Fortunately she had cleaned up the flat so often that she knew exactly what to do; she lighted the fire, heated the water for the bath and flew round the place sweeping and dusting and polishing.
This was just a ‘a lick and a promise’ thought Bel. (It must be ready for Ellis when he came, and she did not know how long he would be) to-morrow she would have to give the whole flat a thorough cleaning; there was no doubt about that.
Fletchers End (Bel Lamington Book 2) Page 7