The Accidental Bride (Black Lace)

by Portia Da Costa

  Her hand stilled. She laughed at herself. A fiancée’s collywobbles, that was what it was. She smiled at Shelley, warmed by her friend. No matter what happened, they must never drift apart. Sliding her hands around Shelley’s in return, and realising she was mimicking John’s reassuring double-handed grip, she opened her mouth to thank her friend … and then realised something. Something that if she hadn’t been so bloody self-absorbed, she’d have noticed sooner.

  ‘What’s this?’ She touched her finger to the exquisite antique ring on Shelley’s finger. Her engagement finger. It was a garnet, rosy and pretty, flanked by tiny matched diamond chips.

  Shelley beamed. ‘Well, I’m not exactly engaged like you. In fact, I might never get married. But this is my Aunt Mae’s ring, that she gave me a while back. It’s sort of … um … a symbol of commitment between Sholto and me.’ She fondled the rich, wine-coloured stone. ‘One day, we’ll get a new ring, but this will have to do for the moment.’

  ‘Oh, that’s wonderful! You know, I had a feeling about you and Sholto too, when I saw you together.’ Lizzie reached out and squeezed her friend’s shoulder. ‘I’m so happy for you two … and for Brent and Tom as well.’ She paused, grinning. ‘I wonder who wears the engagement ring in that relationship, or whether they both get one?’

  ‘I guess we’ll soon see,’ said Shelley, with a grin, reaching for her glass. They were drinking water, as Lizzie had to drive, and Shelley was about to work her first afternoon at New Again, but somehow that day H2O had the sparkle of Champagne.

  Friday soon sped around. The days were busy, even if nights without John were harsh. Lizzie filled her time with New Again business and with sewing. The shop in town was going from strength to strength, thanks to some new advertising they’d now been able to afford, and in Marie’s opinion, the growing word of mouth trade they were attracting, not only thanks to the sewing commissions Lizzie had taken on, but also a certain curiosity value. To capitalise on this, Marie had hastily organised a little coffee and cake morning, to celebrate her new business partner’s engagement. All their ‘key’ customers had been invited and they’d brought their friends, and those friends had told their friends – in a rapidly snowballing effect. The shop had been crowded all day as the coffee morning lasted well into the afternoon. Which, Lizzie reflected ruefully, amounted to far more than just telling ‘a few local friends’. Still, in his happiness, John seemed to be having the same problem as she was keeping a partial lid on things, what with sending celebratory Champagne to all and sundry.

  ‘They’ve all come to stare at me. And the ring!’ Lizzie wasn’t sure she was easy with the notoriety, and yes, the staring, but in an odd sort of way she also welcomed it. As the unknown girl from nowhere, marrying one of the country’s wealthiest men, and the scion of an aristocratic family to boot, being looked at would be a fact of her life from now on, so she had to start getting used to it, sooner rather than later.

  And as Marie had pointed out, having a titled lady, and a billionaire’s wife, as joint owner of New Again was amazingly good for business!

  Someone Lizzie had been particularly happy to see at the little party was Angela Cox, the harried young wife who she and John had delivered a dress to on the day he’d purchased Dalethwaite Manor.

  ‘Congratulations, Lizzie. I knew it! I knew you’d marry him! It was obvious that day that you were meant for each other. Even in the midst of my own chaos, I could see that.’

  The two women hugged, and Lizzie listened with pleasure to the outcome of the cocktail party, for which she and John had helped Angela prepare.

  ‘It was a roaring success,’ the other woman said, grinning. ‘The advice about the gin really helped, and everybody raved about how great I looked and how cool my dress was.’

  Lizzie gave her another quick hug. ‘I’m so glad. But your husband didn’t need to impress the boss after all, did he? John tells me he’s working for him now, at JS North. I’m so pleased your hubby followed up on that.’

  ‘Oh God, me too! It’s changed everything for us. Ollie is a hundred per cent happier in his work now, and he’s earning more too.’ She leaned in closer. ‘We’re well and truly over our rough patch now. It’s um … like a second honeymoon. But I’m still going to take a part-time job. Just something for me, you know? I was talking to Marie, and she said with the new shop and all, you might be looking for some more staff here?’

  Taken aback for a moment, Lizzie suddenly realised something. She had the ‘yea or nay’ to hire and fire. ‘Well, yes, we are.’ She paused, thinking fast. Her instinct about Angela was strong. The other woman looked happy and confident, and her outfit was perfectly put together. She obviously knew what suited her, and had an eye for colour. ‘Why don’t you come in one day next week, and have a trial afternoon, to see how you like it? Obviously you know the vibe here, as a customer. I think you’d do great, but you won’t know until you try it.’

  ‘That’d be amazing. Thank you! I think I could do a great job for you, Lizzie. God knows, I love the clothes here.’

  The two women chatted for a few moments more, Angela clearly over the moon, but eventually Lizzie excused herself and nipped into the back room.

  Oh God, I’m a boss now. I’m going to have to learn to hack it. Be more like John.

  She poured herself a glass of water from the tap, and sipped it, calming down. She could do this. She could be John’s mate and match, steering her own career just as he ran his immense business empire. Their compatibility was so much more than just sex. They could be that power couple, sustained by love. They could!

  18

  His Daughter’s Hand

  The bride at the altar-rail was very lovely, but John’s attention was more on the simple, understated, exquisitely elegant dress she wore than the happy young woman inside it.

  Glowing pride filled him, making him smile.

  My Lizzie made that. It’s the work of her hand, her supremely talented hand. By means of her gifts, she’s made this girl’s day wonderful. Or at least helped it to be.

  On his return from the continent, Lizzie had said, ‘How would you feel about attending a wedding tomorrow morning? I think we can squeeze it in, and still be at my parents’ house for mid-afternoon. It’s Serena, the first ever New Again bride. I made her dress for her, and she’s invited us to the ceremony. She wanted us at the reception too, but I had to give our apologies for that, because we have to be at Dad’s birthday thing.’

  And now, it gave John a strange frisson to be here, as part of an engaged couple himself, knowing that sooner or later, he and Lizzie would be standing before a congregation too, taking their vows.

  Scary. But exciting. More exciting than he’d ever have believed possible before he’d met the beautiful woman at his side. His first wedding had been ultra-quiet, an enjoyable day, but with no pomp and ceremony and very few guests.

  But this time, it would be different. Lizzie would have every wonderful thing that she wanted as a bride. She was his dream princess and he longed to show her off.

  ‘Doesn’t she look lovely?’ she whispered, tucking her hand in his arm during a momentary lull in the proceedings. ‘The dress really works, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It’s exquisite, love. You did a perfect job. But you’ll look better.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ She pinched his arm.

  ‘I mean it. Nobody could possibly be a more beautiful bride than you’ll be.’ He put his lips close to her ear, admiring the cute little vintage 1950s toque she had pinned to her dark hair. It was a perfect match for the lightly fitted, elegant but oh so sexy pink dress she was wearing. ‘And if you persist in denying that, minx, we’ll have to pull into a layby somewhere on the way to your parents’ house, so I can spank you for wilfulness.’

  Lizzie gave him a silky smile, and just murmured ‘Hush!’

  God, he was her slave. Gladly and utterly.

  ‘Oh my God, is that the billionaire, then?’

  Lizzie had been sitting quie
tly in a corner of the terrace, with a weak Pimm’s, keeping a low profile at her father’s party and away from the small but swirling mêlée of neighbours, family, and fellow academic types who were chatting in the garden. The afternoon was as perfect as it could be for a birthday party, but after the initial introductions there was only one thing on her mind.

  John and her father, at the far end of the lawn, by the herbaceous border, talking earnestly. Man to man.

  Oh shit! Oh fuck! This is it … He’s ‘asking for my hand’!

  And now her two sisters, Judy and Nikki, had just arrived, sharing a car as they were both at the same college, just a year apart. They’d plonked themselves down on either side of her at the rustic table, obviously intent on grilling their elder sibling.

  Nikki, the youngest and most outspoken, had asked the big question.

  ‘Yes, that’s John.’

  ‘Well, considering he’s probably Dad’s age, he looks pretty fit to me,’ observed Judy. ‘What do you think they’re talking about? It all looks very intense.’

  ‘He’s gorgeous,’ chipped in Nikki again, ‘but honestly, Liz, he is Dad’s age, by the looks of it. How on earth did you get hooked up with such an old man? Well, older …’ Nikki frowned, and then went shamefaced when Lizzie gave her a look. ‘I mean, look at Dad. He really looks like Hot Dad today, quite young and fit for him, and to be honest, they do sort of look the same age! Only difference is that your John looks like he should be in the movies and Dad looks like a professor who’s just pretending to be a movie star in that shirt.’

  ‘Thank you for those observations, Nik. And I’ll have you know that I never even think about John’s age at all. He seems like a young man to me and, as you’d say, he is fit. In every possible way. And I’d rather have him than whatever scruffy nerd you happen to be hanging around with at the moment.’ She focused on John, down at the bottom of the lawn. Thank God, he was laughing, and so was her dad. Nearly matched in age they might be, but they were getting on OK, and there were no signs of sudden shock and horror from her parent.

  ‘And as for the shirt,’ she continued, ‘that’s my pressie to Dad. Or part of it. He liked it so much he changed into it straight away.’ She gave Nikki another look, but smiling. ‘That’s one of the big advantages of being with a rich older man. You can buy nice things for the people you love.’

  The new shirt was one of half a dozen she’d chosen for her father, from the summer prêt-à-porter collection of John’s shirt-maker, and her parent had indeed been thrilled to bits. Not quite as much as he’d been with the book John had presented to him. A very rare first edition of her Dad’s favourite obscure Victorian poet, Alfred Ratcliffe. Lizzie was amazed he’d been able to obtain it at short notice, but that was probably down to instructions to Willis or Martin, or the legendary concierge service provided by his black credit card, after John had quizzed her about her father’s speciality.

  ‘Fair point,’ observed Nikki.

  ‘He is rather lush, Liz. Me, I don’t care how old he is. I’d do him,’ remarked Judy.

  ‘Jude!’

  ‘Judy!’

  Lizzie swivelled around to see her mother, who’d joined them, standing behind her. Mrs Aitchison looked as nervous as her eldest daughter felt, her eyes on the two men talking at the end of the garden.

  ‘Well, with any luck, nobody else will be “doing” Mr Smith ever again, apart from your sister. If those two are discussing what I think … What I hope they might be discussing,’ said the older woman crisply.

  ‘Oh hell, he’s not doing the “asking for your daughter’s hand in marriage” thing, is he?’ asked Nikki. ‘Nobody does that nowadays. It’s archaic. And it’s not as if Liz isn’t shacked up with him already, is it?’

  ‘Very tastefully put, sis, but with John being so ancient and decrepit, he’s also a bit old-fashioned in other ways too,’ replied Lizzie. Her heart was thudding, but she couldn’t help smiling. Her father looked pleased. John looked pleased. The conversation was obviously going well. ‘Despite the fact he doesn’t exactly hang out with them any more, he does come from a very traditional family. I’m sure Mum’s told you that he’s a Lord, as well as a multi-millionaire.’

  This revelation was cause for much mirth between her siblings, and accusations that Lizzie might become too posh to have anything to do with them after she was married. Mrs Aitchison shooed the girls away, and Lizzie’s heart sank a bit. Judging by the look on her mother’s face, she wanted a ‘serious talk’ too.

  ‘So you are going to marry him, then?’

  ‘Yes, Mum, I am. I love him. It’s as simple as that.’ She put her hand over her parent’s hand. Was her mum shaking? ‘I know it’s … um … not what any of us expected for me, and there are going to be challenges, to say the least. But I want to be with John, and he wants to be with me. And like I said, at heart, I think he’s a traditionalist, so that means marriage.’

  ‘Are you sure, darling? He’s a lovely man, and he couldn’t be more eligible. I really like him, and clearly your father thinks he’s first rate.’ Mrs Aitchison bit her lip. ‘But just look at the two of them together.’ She gestured towards John and her husband, who were shaking hands, now, with the older – only just – man slapping the younger on the back. ‘They’re contemporaries. They’re virtually the same age. You’re marrying a man old enough to be your father, Elizabeth. Are you sure you’ve really thought this through?’

  ‘Yes, I have. And it comes back to this … I love John, Mum. He’s a wonderful man, and when I’m with him, I don’t think about our ages at all. He seems as young as me, and I know you’ll pooh-pooh this, but I have grown up quite a bit since I met him. I feel much more confident since I’ve been with John. I know you and Dad thought I was a bit of a waster and a drifter, but I’m not any more. I’ve got the man I love, and he’s given me purpose and belief in myself, as well as his love. Surely you see that?’ She squeezed her mother’s hand tight.

  A great smile came across her parent’s face, and shaking off Lizzie’s hand, she enveloped her daughter in a hug. ‘Yes, sweetheart, I think I do see it. And I am happy for you. I’ve never seen you look so confident and so poised. You … you look as if you’ve found yourself,’ she whispered then drew back, still beaming. ‘I know neither you nor John need your father’s permission, or my permission to marry. But you’ve got it, Lizzie. You’ve got it absolutely.’

  Lizzie looked back at her mother. She did have doubts. The shadows were still there in her eyes, but bless her, she wasn’t going to make any more of a deal about the age gap. At least not to her daughter’s face.

  And there wasn’t going to be much time for it now, anyway. John and her father were striding back up towards the party, still talking, still smiling. In a weird moment, all conversation seemed to still amongst the assembled friends, family and colleagues – as if it wasn’t just Lizzie, her sisters and her mother who’d been hanging on the outcome of that man-to-man chat at the bottom of the garden. The discussions between her father, whom she loved despite their past differences, and her man, her lover, her fiancé. In the sunshine, John looked like more of a golden god than ever, the light glinting on his blond curls matched only by the brilliance of his smile, so sweet and reassuring, and focused on her now.

  He winked. All was well.

  ‘Well, my friends,’ announced Professor Aitchison, smiling at the assembled company, ‘I’m thrilled to announce that we have another celebration to observe today, not just my humble birthday.’ Lizzie grinned back at her dad as he looked across at her, nodding. ‘Most of you won’t know John here.’ He gestured to the man at his side. ‘But I hope you’ll soon get to know him, because he and my daughter Elizabeth have just become engaged!’

  A general excited chatter erupted across the party, all eyes darting from John, to her, and back again, as she rose from her seat with her mother and made her way to the men. All hints of nervousness fled away, to be replaced by relief and happy pride as John took both her hand
s in his and leant across to kiss her.

  His lips were like heaven, even in just this fleeting gesture, and this assertion of their status. And the way John smiled at her as he pulled back was so focused, so intimate between them, that she almost gasped. They were at the centre of the party, yet alone together for a moment. It wasn’t sexual, but an intense communion, the two of them against the world.

  People rushed forward, and all became a whirl of congratulations, introductions, and well wishes. In a momentary lull and to gasps of stunned admiration, John retrieved from his pocket the ring Lizzie had been wearing all week, and quickly restored it once again to her finger, kissing her again to seal the moment.

  ‘I’m sorry we’ve derailed your birthday, Dad,’ said Lizzie a little while later, feeling a bit like visiting royalty when she and John were circulating separately, accepting good wishes.

  Her father gave her a hug. ‘Think nothing of it, Elizabeth. I’m thrilled for it to be so, and incredibly happy for you, sweetheart. I like John very much. You’ve chosen very well.’

  Lizzie met her father’s eyes. His expression was shrewd. ‘You don’t think he’s too old for me?’ she asked, suddenly anxious. ‘I’m not just marrying him for his money, you know.’

  ‘Of course you aren’t. He’s a charming man. Very warm, and surprisingly unaffected, given his background. I think you’ll be very happy together. I think being with someone older is very good for you.’ He nodded to himself, as if marking an internal debating point. ‘I know you and I have had our differences in the past, about the way you’ve conducted yourself … but I see a new Elizabeth today. A woman of confidence and purpose, as well as a woman in love. Your news today has been the best birthday gift of all. Even better than the fabulous shirts and the Ratcliffe, although I must say, I was delighted to receive those too.’ He plucked at the fine cotton of his gift.

  ‘Thanks, Dad. I’m so glad you like John and approve, despite the ages. I think Mum’s still a bit worried, even though John’s so massively eligible and all that.’