Jubilee Bride

by Jane Peart

  "How could you have let the most marriageable young bachelor in England slip through your fingers? You should be announcing your betrothal tonight! You should be wearing the Blanding ring on your finger! But no! You are wasting the best years of your life while all the other girls snatch away the best men!" Garnet made no secret that she was was bitterly disappointed, even incensed.

  Finally Faith could take it no longer. "What do you want me to do, Mummy?" she said, rising and flinging out her hands in a helpless gesture. "Neil and Lalage are in love. They're perfect for each other, and we should both be very happy we brought them together!"

  Back in her own room, Faith sat at her dressing table, stunned and shaken.

  "Is something wrong, miss?" Annie asked anxiously when her mistress continued to sit like a stone statue, not even moving when the dinner gong sounded.

  In the mirror, Faith could see her maid standing behind her, holding a fringed Spanish shawl in her hands. She hesitated, debating as to whether or not to go down to dinner. Knowing her absence would only raise all sorts of questions, she shook her head. "No, Annie, nothing."

  Then without another word, Faith rose and, taking the lacy scarf, she flung it around her shoulders, lifted her chin defiantly, and went out the bedroom door.

  Descending the broad staircase, she could hear the sound of voices coming from the drawing room where everyone was gathered. She wondered how she could possibly put on a convincing act, joining in with the wishes for the engaged couple, while wondering whether Lenora and Jeff would be next.

  "But I must" she told herself firmly. Strangely enough, the quotation in Grace Comfort's column Annie had slipped into her mirror only yesterday came to mind:

  I hold it true, what e'er befall,

  I feel it when I sorrow most,

  Tis better to have loved and lost,

  Than never to have loved at all.

  Was it, was it really better to lose one's love than never to love at all? And would she ever know?

  "When I planned this ball, I never intended it to be an engagement announcement party!" declared Garnet as her maid carefully pinned the fragile, filigreed ornament into her elaborately coifed hair. "That is, unless it had been for Miss Faith—" The words trailed away plaintively.

  Myrna said nothing. In all the years that she had served Mrs. Devlin, she had learned discretion. When her mistress was upset about something, it was best not to comment for fear of adding proverbial fuel to the flame.

  "Ah well, no use crying over spilt milk, I suppose." Garnet sighed and rose from her dressing table, picking up her lacquered fan and making a final adjustment of her ruffled décolletage.

  "No, madam, no use at all," the maid murmured, handing Gamet her shawl.

  At the head of the stairs, Garnet saw that Jeremy and Faith, who were to receive guests with her, were already waiting in the front hall. They were laughing about something, of all things! What could Faith find to laugh about tonight? Garnet wondered irritably. After all, most of the girls she had come out with were now safely married! And tonight's announcement would put "finis" to what was probably her best prospect and maybe even her last chance.

  Garnet checked her morbid thoughts. Well, it was foolish to worry anymore about it now. If Faith doesn't care, why should I? she asked herself, picking up the train of her blue satin gown and starting down the steps.

  Garnet's annoyance with her daughter quickly disappeared with her husband's admiring comment. "Elegant, my dear. You look elegant."

  "Yes, Mummy, you look perfectly lovely, as usual," Faith agreed.

  "So do you, darling." Garnet nodded at her daughter, thinking, What a handsome young woman Faith is and what a shame that she has been wasting the best years of her life. She allowed herself one last regretful sigh.

  Through the open doors, Garnet caught a glimpse of the first carriage pulling up to the front of the house. With a flourish of her fan, she took her place beside Jeremy and arranged a cordial smile on her face. From her manner, no one would ever suspect that her mood was anything but euphoric.

  For Faith, who had attended many such affairs as a debutante, the evening was all too familiar. It was as if she were an actress who had played the same role countless times in the same theater. Of course, with the added element of the announcement of Lalage's engagement to Neil, tonight was different, special. Although Garnet's parries were always spectacular, tonight she had outdone herself, hoping to please Neil's aristocratic relatives.

  The loveliest flowers from the garden perfumed the air. The band brought from London filled the rooms with the most beautiful music—the lilting waltzes and popular melodies of the day. Yes, Garnet had planned everything perfectly, down to the last tiny detail. Even to arranging a lovely luminous moon for the occasion, thought Faith with a smile and a little sigh as she glanced out toward the terrace.

  Why did a moon always make her feel somehow melancholy? Maybe because she most often gazed at it alone?

  It was so ironic, Faith could not help thinking. Only a few years ago it was her engagement to Neil Blanding that her mother had expected to announce at such a festive party. Faith looked around the room and out toward the conservatory with its tropical plants and exotic flowers. Wasn't it in there at a ball very like this one that Neil had first proposed to her? She could still see Neil's handsome face, the puzzlement in his clear gray eyes.

  "I don't understand, Faith, I thought you loved me—" he had begun.

  "I'm sorry, Neil, I truly wish I could. It would all be so . . . pleasant and easy if it were possible. But it isn't. And it wouldn't be fair and honest to let you believe that it is."

  "But, why? It could be possible if you'd only let it. We have so much in common. It could work—if you'd just try."

  Faith had shaken her head, hating to hurt him. "But it wouldn't, even if I tried as hard as I could. The reason it can't is . . . because I love someone else. I can't help that and I can't change it."

  It had been Jeff then and it was still Jeff, even now when all hope was gone. Jeff had made it obvious this summer that it was Lenora he cared about. In fact, he had seemed obsessed with her.

  Faith's gaze moved around the room, watching the dancing couples. There she was now—ethereally beautiful and graceful, dancing with one of the half-dozen young men whom she had met and enchanted in the space of the evening. However, Lenora seemed a little distracted, Faith observed, as she kept looking over her partner's shoulder as if expecting someone—

  Of course. She was watching for Jeff? Hoping he'd come. But Jeff had not arrived yet. Maybe he'd forgotten about tonight. It wouldn't be unusual. Sometimes, if he was painting, Jeff lost track of days at a time. He was putting the finishing touches on the Guinevere painting, he had told them the last weekend he'd been down. Then it would have to be carefully varnished before it was ready for exhibition.

  Subconsciously, Faith began to tap her foot to the tune of a waltz. Out of the past came the memory of her first dance with Jeff—at his mother's wedding to Rod Cameron. At fifteen, she had been dizzy with delight that the tall, handsome young man had asked her to dance. Even then, Jeff was a superb dancer, twirling her skillfully about the ballroom. Later he had dutifully appeared at her debutante ball to claim a dance with the honoree, and on other occasions at Birchfields, they had moved together in rhythm to the music of her mother's hired musicians. Being in his arms, circling the floor time after time had been an oft-remembered dream. Hope had blazed in her then—a hope that had been dealt a fatal blow this summer.

  Faith winced involuntarily, suddenly aware that her new shoes with their French heels were beginning to pinch, that she was tired of smiling, that it was getting late—and Jeff had still not come.

  chapter

  21

  AFTER CONSULTATION, both families yielded to the couple's pleas to marry in the historic Jubilee year, and plans went forth without the usual long engagement period.

  On the morning of Lalage's wedding, Faith awakened and lay
still for a few minutes before the significance of this day crashed on her consciousness. A part of her wanted to pull the covers back over her head and escape into blessed nothingness, but she knew she had to face it, get through it somehow.

  She had promised her mother that she would take the flowers down to the church. So, although it was still early, she dressed quickly and slipped down the stairs. Since no one else was about, she let herself out through the French doors of her mother's morning room and out into the glorious sunshine just beginning to stream through the trees.

  Thousands of spider webs veiled the lawn sloping down from the terrace like a jeweled fairy net sparkling with the dew caught in each intricate thread. There was a freshness about the morning, the rare kind of summer day about which the English like to brag but seldom experience. Yet the misty sunshine promised clear skies—a perfect day for a wedding, she thought with a pang of regret.

  As she approached, she saw that the sun falling on the ancient gray stones of the little church gave them a golden glow. Mounting the steps, she read the carved words on the arch over the door:

  Enter this church and leave behind

  All worldly woes, the cares that bind.

  For here God reigns and Grace abides.

  She turned the heavy twisted handle and went inside, then through the vestibule and into the sanctuary, where the faint odor of old polished wood and candle wax and the fragrance of faded flowers from the Sunday service still lingered.

  Her arms full of daylilies and pink peonies, Faith walked up to the chancel rail and unhitched the gate to the altar. As she took the steps one at a time, her heart began to pound.

  Suddenly reality receded, and her imagination filled the empty church with friends and family and turned her simple skirt and blouse into an ivory satin gown with a chapel train. She swayed a little, still holding the flowers, and closed her eyes.

  She could see Jeff, splendid in a Prince Albert coat, with a boutonniere of white carnations in his lapel, standing to one side . . . waiting for her. She had only to take a few steps forward and they would be side by side.

  Breathlessly she waited, her head turned toward the sacristry. Soon she saw the rector in his starched white surplice coming through the door. Opening the prayer book, he began the ceremony:

  "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today—" His resonant voice sounded just as it had the evening before at the rehearsal. Almost without thinking, Faith's lips began to move. Word for word, she repeated the vows, pausing to give Jeff time to say his part. Then, when the minister asked for the ring . . . Faith's eyes popped open.

  She felt dizzy and disoriented. What in the world was she doing? How wicked to pretend such a thing in this sacred place! Going through a mock ceremony with someone she loved who did not love her—

  Faith jerked herself back from the make-believe world she had entered. Briskly she walked into the vestry and opened the cabinets to find vases for the flowers she had brought. Then she spotted the white wicker baskets that her mother must have sent over earlier for the bouquets that would be placed at the foot of the altar.

  She turned on the spigots at the sink, filled the brass holders with water, and placed the flowers in them. Dru and her mother were coming from the house later to arrange them.

  Empty-handed, she stood there for another minute, then shuddered. The dim interior seemed cool, almost cold, on this warm midsummer morning. Her hands were icy. It was as though the weight of all that had taken place within these ancient walls had suddenly descended upon her.

  Faith hurried out from the vestry into the silent church echoing with the songs of a thousand hymns that had been sung here, the chords of organ music playing the triumphant Glorias and Hallelujahs, the dirges and wedding marches. Shivering, she came out into the bright sunshine, feeling the beauty of blue sky and soft air forcibly, almost like a physical blow.

  Faith had believed that Jeff and she were somehow destined for each other, that eventually all her dreams would come true. Now, painfully, she began to realize that the heartbreaking truth of life is that many dreams die— Annie came into Faith's room, looking flushed and a bit harried. The reason did not take long in coming out.

  "Your mother says I'm to help Miss Lenora dress and Miss Evalee as well. Don't see why Nanny can't do it when I've got my hands full enough as 'tis."

  "Well, if that's what Mummy wants, Annie, go on. I can get myself ready. Besides, everyone's eyes will be on the bride, not me," replied Faith indifferently.

  Annie placed her hands on her hips. "You'll be the one comin' down the aisle first, won't you? I watched the rehearsal last night, you know. You're the first anyone will see, and I want you to make your mother proud, miss. I'm your maid, after all. Your mother and Mrs. Bondurant are both fussin' with Miss Lalage. And Miss Lenora doesn't really need me. It's that little magpie, Evalee. If you ask me, if someone doesn't settle her boots, she'll be a fair handful in no time at all!"

  "Oh, she's just full of life and excited about her sister's getting married."

  Annie said no more but pressed her lips together and went to the armoire. She took out the ice-blue satin bridesmaid's gown, its shimmering skirt making a slithering sound as she spread it over the taffeta coverlet.

  "Oh, my, 'tis truly beautiful!" sighed Annie, fingering the wide royal blue sash that would be tied in bows and streamers down the back. Then she went back to the armoire and lifted down the romantically brimmed blue velvet Gainsborough hat and brought out the matching blue satin slippers.

  "You'll be a picture, for sure, Miss Faith—the color's yours and the shape of the hat! La, but won't Mr. Jeff want to paint you in this? she exclaimed,

  The mention of Jeff struck Faith like a dart. If Jeff would want to paint any bridesmaid, it would be Lenora, not her. After the bride, it was Lenora, with her delicate beauty, who would be the focus of all eyes.

  Annie turned to Faith and, seeing what was written on her face, admonished her. "Now, don't be lookin' like that! You should be smilin'! Just like Grace Comfort said in her piece today: 'A happy bridesmaid makes a happy bride'," she quoted.

  "Oh, no, please, Annie. Not Grace Comfort again!" groaned Faith.

  "You don't need to be scoffin'. She had a lovely piece in this mornin's paper. In fact, I put it on Miss Lalage's breakfast tray so she could read it herself. It's all about weddin's and brides and bein' in love," said Annie smugly. "You should be thinkin' more on those lines yourself, if you ask me, miss," she added with a little toss of her head. "Especially, now that you've let that nice Mr. Neil Blanding get away!"

  "Oh, Annie, you're incorrigible!" Faith smiled.

  "Well, whatever that means, miss, I'm sure," sniffed Annie. "You're not gettin' any younger, you know," she called over her shoulder as she left the room.

  Faith had to laugh. Annie was right. She wasn't getting any younger, but that wasn't her real problem. She could dream all she wanted about weddings, but if the man she loved didn't share her dream, what good would it do?

  A hushed air of anticipation hung over the little church as the observers waited for the bridal processional to begin. Garnet beside Jeremy, sitting in the pew behind the Bondurants, had a direct view of Druscilla. The look of complacent happiness on her face sent a splinter of envy and resentment through Garnet. She immediately chided herself even as she told herself it was understandable. After all, it should be her daughter, not Dru's stepdaughter, getting married in this chapel today. And to Neil Blanding, too!

  Garnet stirred restlessly and felt Jeremy's concerned glance. She smoothed her apricot silk skirt with nervous lace-mitted hands. It was really almost too much to bear. How could Faith have been so foolish as to turn down Neil time after time?

  The first solemn bars of the Lohengrin wedding march resounded, filling the interior of the small building to the rafters. Garnet turned her head slowly as the slim figure of her daughter passed in the aisle beside her. Head held high, her piquant profile set off by the artistically dipped bri
m of the picture hat, Faith walked with stately grace, holding the bouquet of roses and lilies of the valley tied with blue satin ribbons.

  Garnet's eyes followed Faith as she took her place on the bride's side of the chancel rail. What a waste! Garnet sighed. Faith could have had everything if she had accepted Neil's proposal—position, privilege, eventually probably a tide. Now what was to become of her?

  Faith stood watching Lenora come down the aisle with measured pace. How exquisite she was. No wonder Jeff had fallen in love with her. And where was Jeff, anyway? Everyone had expected him to arrive with the Ainsleys for the wedding, but he had not come. He had sent the excuse that he could not leave a work in progress, and Lydia further explained that he was rushing to meet the entry deadline for a painting he wanted to enter in the Waverly Exhibit. Strangely enough, Lenora had not seemed at all upset that Jeff had not appeared.

  Faith was momentarily distracted from her thoughts by the sight of Evalee making the most of her role as flower girl. Turning to the left and right, the little girl smiled at everyone, stopping every few seconds to toss handfuls of rose petals in the path of the bride.

  Then Lalage appeared on Randall's arm, and Faith drew in her breath. Certainly it would be difficult to find a more beautiful bride. There had been frantic consultation as to where to find a suitable wedding gown on such short notice, and it was finally decided to alter one of the lovely evening gowns she had brought with her and not yet worn. Of white peau de soie, its off-shoulder bodice had been filled in with Brussels lace, and the same lace had been used to fashion stylish leg-of-mutton sleeves. Tiers of lace had been attached to form a cascading chapel train, and Lydia Ainsley had insisted that Lally borrow her own bridal veil.

  In a few minutes the ceremony began, and Faith found her mind wandering, her eyes moving over the assembled guests, all listening intently to the minister's words and the bridal couple's responses. Suddenly Lydia Ainsley caught her eye and smiled, inclining her head slightly in acknowledgment. Faith smiled back, thinking how grateful she was for Lydia's friendship, her supportive strength, her inspiration.