by Sandra Heath
He laughed. “I haven’t lost a passenger yet, coz! I assure you that I always drive like this; our present speed is not, therefore, part of a dastardly plot to dispose of you.”
She did not know whether to smile or not, for had anyone else made the remark it would have been amusing, but it simply wasn’t when uttered by Dominic Lexham.
He glanced at her. “Your silence is ominous, cousin. Does it mean that you still harbor a grudge against me?”
“A grudge? No.”
“Then please treat me as if you now regard me as a friend, for I assure you that I am.” He reached over to put his hand over hers, and the curricle flew along a wide thoroughfare.
Straightening once more, he urged the team faster, cracking the whip so that the vehicle dashed across a junction, ignoring the traffic passing in the other direction, and entered Piccadilly at what seemed to her to be breakneck speed. Almost in a blur she saw the window of Hoby’s, she saw Green Park and the Pulteney and Oxenford hotels before the curricle turned at last into the quiet streets and squares of Mayfair.
She knew a great sense of relief when they passed beneath the pedimented gateway and slowly crossed the courtyard to the main entrance of the hotel. She wondered what he was thinking in that moment, but she could read nothing in his handsome, expressionless face.
The flower wagon was just departing and some maids were carrying the last garlands into the vestibule as the curricle came to a standstill by the steps and Dominic alighted to help Caroline down. Holding her hand, he smiled into her eyes. “There, cousin, I have delivered you safe and sound, and more swiftly I am sure than your phantom hackney.”
“I am most grateful to you.”
“I assure you that the pleasure was all mine.” His glance was so warm that she felt suddenly embarrassed, especially as some guests emerged from the hotel at that very moment. She began to withdraw her hand, but his fingers tightened over hers. “Until we meet again, Caroline,” he said softly, bending his head and kissing her fully on the lips.
With a horrified gasp, she stepped back from him. Still smiling, he climbed lightly back onto the curricle and with a swift crack of the whip jerked the team into action once more.
She was horribly conscious of the guests’ curious glances, and her face was the color of flame as she gathered her skirts to hurry swiftly into the house, politely murmuring her greeting as she passed. The ladies smiled and nodded, but exchanged quizzical glances; the gentlemen doffed their hats, their eyes lowered to catch a glimpse of her pretty ankles.
As the door closed behind her, the departing guests strolled slowly on down the steps and across the courtyard. They glanced back at the entrance, their heads together as they discussed the intriguing little scene they had just witnessed, commenting that the two Lexham cousins appeared to have become very intimate indeed.
* * *
Caroline had no time to consider Dominic’s strange conduct, for in spite of the fact that the wedding itself was not to take place until early evening, there still seemed to be a mountain of work before all was in readiness. In advance there had seemed to be sufficient time to do everything, but now the day was upon them there did not appear to be sufficient minutes in each hour.
The everyday life of the hotel had to proceed, the needs of the guests attended to, and thus while the servants labored to decorate the red saloon, the dining room, and the vestibules, there was a constant throng of guests and visitors to make their task even more arduous.
As the day wore on, however, the rooms set aside for the wedding took on an entirely new and fairy-tale appearance. Swathes of flowers and greenery turned them into sylvan bowers, with garlands twined around columns, through the banisters of the grand staircase, along pelmets and around doorjambs. White satin bows were pinned to furnishings, and great bowls of bright spring flowers stood everywhere, filling the air with their delicate perfume, so fresh and full of promise. In the vestibule stood the pretty baskets of wedding favors, the knots of white ribbon and posies of primroses, which would be handed to each guest on arrival.
But it was in the dining room that the greatest transformation took place, for it was here that the fashionable gathering could congregate after the ceremony in order to sample the magnificent feast Gaspard and his brigade had prepared. In this room had been created a leafy bower in which one could almost have expected to find Titania lying asleep.
Ferns and blossoms had been arranged in huge bowls, garlands were draped everywhere, especially around the white-clothed table, and immense épergnes full of flowers, moss, and fruit stood at intervals along its great length. There were silver bowls of melons, pineapples, peaches, pears, and grapes, and dozens of shaded candles to give that muted light which was at once so romantic and flattering.
The light shone on gleaming cutlery and cut crystal, and the menu cards stood elegantly in little silver-gilt stands. The Sheraton sideboards were a vision of splendor with the dazzling Lexham plate displayed in all its considerable glory, and in one corner of the room splashed a little fountain, the mechanics of which were a mystery to Caroline but which were fully understood by the experienced Mrs. Hollingsworth.
In the cellar, Boisville worked away at carving the ice, and had already finished swans and eagles, the emblems of the Seymour and Carstairs families, and had now begun the very delicate vases in which would soon sparkle the more feathery ferns.
Darkness fell at last and the guests began to arrive, and in her private apartment, Caroline put the finishing touches to her appearance. To achieve a singularly fashionable and elegant effect when funds were at a premium was no simple matter, and she had consulted for a long time with her diligent dressmaker. This astute lady had in her possession a particularly splendid ruff, made to closely resemble those worn in Tudor times, and so it had been decided to create a gown to suit this item.
The result was a vision of sixteenth-century fashion, with elaborate, puckered sleeves stitched with hundreds of tiny pearls, but made very modish indeed by the use of a very fine rose-pink Indian muslin. The hem was high enough to reveal her ankles, and was emphasized by stiff rouleaux to make the skirt stand out a little, and the long sleeves ended in cuffs of lace which almost completely concealed her hands.
Her hair was dressed high and back from her face, as she had seen in portraits of Elizabethan ladies, and was twined with little strings of pearls. These pearls had been pressed upon her for the occasion by a very insistent Jennifer, who perceived that they would be the very thing.
Standing in front of the cheval glass now, Caroline surveyed herself from head to toe. Would she do? She touched the stiff ruff which sprang out so splendidly around the neckline of the gown, revealing her pale, bare throat. Oh, how excellent her grandmother’s necklace would have looked now! But there was no point in yearning for what had been lost forever; the necklace had gone and she would never wear it again.
Only one thing remained now, and that was the tiny velvet cap which was to be pinned at the back of her head, and as she bent to pick it up, Mrs. Hollingsworth came in, her discreet dark gray skirts rustling and her keys chinking in a familiar way Caroline found suddenly very comforting. As the housekeeper helped her with the cap, Caroline went over and over the final arrangements. Surely they had not forgotten something of vital importance?
“Has everything been attended to, Mrs. Hollingsworth?”
“Everything, madam. The maids finished the ribbons from the cake over an hour ago. We can do no more.”
“How do I look?”
“Very lovely.”
“Does it show that I have not been to a couturière?”
“No, Miss Lexham, it does not.” Smiling reassuringly, the housekeeper took Caroline’s shawl and draped it carefully over her ruched sleeves. “There, now you are ready to be this day’s most important London hostess.”
“Oh, don’t say that, for it fills me with terror.”
“You will carry it off splendidly, I know that you will.”
“Not if Lady Chaddington can help it.”
“We will be sure to watch her very closely, madam, of that you may be sure.”
“I wish I could guess what she will do, but I cannot. She is so unscrupulous that it could be just about anything!”
“You must not think about it, Miss Lexham; you must just carry on as if all is well—which it probably will be, for I cannot think that she will do anything to the actual wedding of her future sister-in-law.”
“No? Well I think she is quite capable of doing that, Mrs. Hollingsworth, because as far as she is concerned tonight I am at my most vulnerable. Destroy tonight’s celebration, and she has destroyed me; the fact that she will also have ruined Jennifer’s wedding day will not really enter into it at all. However, you are right, it will do no good to worry about it, for until whatever it is actually happens, there doesn’t appear to be very much we can do about it.”
She paused for a moment, suddenly very nervous. “Wish me luck, Mrs. Hollingsworth.”
In reply the housekeeper made so bold as to suddenly hug her. “Of course I wish you luck, my dearest Miss Lexham.”
Smiling gratefully at this warm display of affection, Caroline took a deep breath and left the apartment to go out into the vestibule to greet the wedding guests.
The crystal chandeliers glittered above bare shoulders and jeweled hair, and tall ostrich plumes trembled richly in the warmth from the glowing fire in the hallway. The gentlemen wore coats of velvet, dark green, dark blue, and black, and brass or silver buttons shone elegantly on the rich, somber material.
The air was filled with the sounds of refined conversation and laughter, and outside more and more carriages turned into the courtyard, their lamps casting arcs of light in the gloom and their wheels and the hooves of their teams clattering above the cobbles.
The Lexham Hotel was ablaze with lights, not a single shutter or curtain being closed and every room being illuminated for this most important of social occasions. To Caroline, as she moved among the crush of distinguished guests, it seemed that the whole of the beau monde was assembled here tonight—the whole of the beau monde to witness either her triumph, or her ignominious defeat at the hands of Marcia, Lady Chaddington.
Marcia had arrived early on the arm of her popinjay brother, and she looked very elegant indeed, clad in a low-necked slip of the palest lime-green sarcenet with an overgown of silver patent net. Fabulous emeralds lay at her throat and hung from her ears, and frothy ostrich plumes quivered above her magnificently dressed auburn hair. Beside her, clad in pale-blue from Apollo-curled head to slippered toe, Lord Fynehurst looked almost as splendid, but decidedly unmanly, and his braying tones could be heard at frequent intervals above the noise of conversation.
A small orchestra had been hired for the occasion, and they played in the background in the red saloon. The vicar of fashionable St. George’s, Hanover Square, sipped champagne with the other guests as he waited for the commencement of the ceremony. A very nervous Lord Carstairs, his slender figure very handsome in an embroidered velvet coat of the richest wine red, moved among the guests, and several times she saw him bid the groom’s man, his long-suffering brother, to check again that the wedding ring was safely in his pocket.
At last the appointed hour came and everyone pushed into the red saloon, where the chairs and sofas had been placed around the walls to allow as many as possible to witness the actual ceremony. An expectant hush fell over the gathering, and all eyes were turned on the open doorway, through which could be seen the fine rise of the grand staircase.
The first guests to see the wedding party appear at the top of the steps gave gasps of admiration and Caroline smiled as she saw Jennifer make the magnificent entrance she had so wanted. And what an entrance it was, for she looked so very beautiful, glowing with happiness, and she was the center of attention as she slowly descended on Hal’s arm.
Her silver tissue wedding gown was adorned with two broad flounces of Brussels point lace, edged with shell trimming, and was fastened at its tiny waist by a beautiful diamond clasp. A breathtaking wreath of more diamonds flashed and glittered in her fluffy dark hair, and there was an air of such joy about her that she outshone every other woman present and was truly the most beautiful and enchanting of brides.
Behind her came the twelve bridesmaids, six clad in primrose and six in lilac, and they carried little ribboned posies of sweet-smelling heartsease, with more of these flowers pinned in their hair.
Hal wore a coat of indigo with silver buttons, and his shirt frills and cravat were edged with fine lace. He looked very handsome and dashing, and very proud as he escorted his lovely sister, his hand resting protectively over hers. His eyes met Caroline’s for a moment as they passed, and he smiled at her. It was a smile that almost turned her heart over with love for him, and she lowered her glance to hide the effect it had had upon her.
Then the procession reached the little floral dais on which the ceremony itself was to take place, and Jennifer at last saw her beloved Charles, who had watched her approach with such adoration that there could be no doubt at all that this was a love match of the first order.
Caroline watched the service with tears in her eyes, for she was so very happy for her friend, and as the ring was slipped onto the bride’s finger, nothing could have been further from Caroline’s thoughts than the schemes of Lady Chaddington. At last the ceremony was over and Jennifer turned into her new husband’s arms as he bent to kiss her, and a loud cheer went up that would have been totally out of place in a church.
Now at last was the time to adjourn to the dining room, which had been closed to conceal the beautiful decorations from view until the last moment. The two footmen, wedding favors pinned to their liveried shoulders, flung open the connecting doors from the red saloon, and the wedding gathering proceeded into the feast, led by the bride and groom, and followed immediately by Hal, with Marcia on his arm.
Gasps of delight greeted the first glimpse of the fairy bower, and more gasps the magnificent table with its épergnes and garlands, and above all the cake. Gunter’s had indeed surpassed themselves and had created a confection which dominated the snowy table. Crisp, dainty ribbons extended from the cake to the four corners of the ceiling, and in these corners there were wedding wreaths, adorned with more knots and trailers of satin ribbon. Boisville’s splendid ice carvings glistened on silver trays, and cool, soft ferns trembled with each movement of air as the guests proceeded around the table, seeking their allotted places.
The feast commenced, and it was soon evident that society’s feting of Gaspard Duvall was well justified, for the dishes that proceeded from the kitchens were delicate, mouthwatering, and well worthy of his reputation. The potages were declared to be quite magnificent, the brochettes d’ ortolans to be quite the most delicious dish of those small birds yet tasted, and the salmon soufflé to be the lightest and most flavorsome imaginable.
Platter after platter was offered to the delighted guests, from dainty slices of chicken breasts on paté de foie gras to a variety of dishes served with expensive and rare truffles.
From a discreet position beneath the Ionic colonnade at the rear of the room, Caroline watched the feast progress. How different an affair it was from a wedding feast in Selford! She smiled to herself, pondering the incredible changes that had taken place in her life in such a short while. Her gaze moved over the dazzling gathering, the cream of London’s society, and she was amazed anew that all this should be happening simply because of a sudden, impossible thought that had occurred to her while sitting briefly in the gardens to look at the house where her father had been born.
Seeing Jennifer’s happy, smiling face as she raised her glass to share a toast with her new husband, Caroline found herself suddenly looking at Marcia, who had been so oddly quiet thus far. There was a look about her now which suddenly made Caroline very wary. Something was about to happen; Caroline knew it. Every nerve stiffened as she involuntarily stepped forward, one hand reachin
g out to touch the cool marble of a garland-entwined column.
She was deaf to the noise in the room; it was as if she was alone with her enemy. Across the assembly, Marcia’s cool, contemptuous glance met hers, and Caroline became aware of the sound of her own heartbeats. Marcia was about to deliver her coup de grace, and she would do it alone.
From behind Caroline, a footman appeared, bearing aloft Gaspard’s pièce de résistance, a magnificent silver platter bearing an especially created salmon dish, saumon Jennifer, named in honor of the bride. Deliciously garnished, and decorated with peacock feathers, the dish’s appearance was greeted with admiring claps as the footman bore it deftly to the head of the table, intending to serve the bride and groom first.
With bated breath, Caroline watched Marcia, whose whole attitude now was one of confident, gloating anticipation. From Jennifer and Lord Carstairs, the footman proceeded to Hal, and then to Marcia, but as he flourishingly placed a spoonful of the salmon upon her plate, she gave a sudden scream and rose shakily to her feet. A shocked silence descended instantly over the gathering and all eyes swung toward her in astonishment.
Shuddering with disgust, and somehow contriving to look genuinely ill, she pointed a quivering finger at the offending plate. There, reposing horridly in the midst of the delicious salmon, was a very large, very dead cockroach.
Chapter 26
Caroline found herself hurrying forward, and many of the guests gave shudders and hastily put down their cutlery, pushing their plates away as if all the food might contain similar insects. An uneasy and questioning stir passed around the elegant table, and Jennifer’s happy smile faltered, her eyes filling with tears at what seemed the complete destruction of her wedding feast.
The unfortunate footman didn’t quite know what to do, and he looked toward Caroline for instruction, but she could not think of anything to say. There the cockroach lay for all to see, and as far as the guests were concerned, it could only have come from the kitchens. Were those kitchens then crawling with such vermin? Was the whole establishment perhaps similarly afflicted? Had they all made a dreadful mistake in honoring these premises with their patronage? Caroline could sense their thoughts, and she could not blame them; how were they to know that Marcia was the culprit?