“The man who was here the other day? I spoke to him. Tall, handsome, rich—thatLord Ashendon? He’s asked you to marry him?”
Emm nodded. “Yes, ma’am, and he wants the wedding to be next Tuesday. I’m afraid it’s very short notice, but Lord Ashendon is adamant.”
There was another long silence. Then, “Fornext Tuesday?” She gave Emm a sharp look. “You’re not in the family wa— No, of course not. There hasn’t been time. I take it you knew him from before.”
“No, ma’am. I never set eyes on him before last week.”
Miss Mallard blinked. “Good heavens!” She considered it for a moment, then said in a bracing voice, “Well, whatever his lordship’s reason for such a rush, he shall not find us wanting! Short notice indeed, but we shall prevail, I am determined. We’ll fire you off in style, my dear. I’ll speak to the vicar about the ceremony—”
“It’s not to be at St. Swithins. His lordship has booked the abbey.”
“The abbey?” Miss Mallard’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, excellent.” She pulled out a pad of paper and started to make a list. “New dresses for both of us, of course. Cancel your classes for today—for the rest of the week, in fact. Thwaites,Johnstone and Clegg can fill in for you. You and I will go at once to Madame Floria’s and order new dresses for the occasion. You cannot possibly marry Lord Ashendon in that old rag!”
Emm blinked. She hadn’t thought it was quite that shabby.
Miss Mallard scribbled on her notepad, muttering furiously. “Invitations must be sent out! Heavens! Tuesday next! We shall never get everything done. And flowers—at this time of the year they will have to be heavy on the greenery.”
She made another note. “The menu for the wedding breakfast—something elegant and delicious. Is it the right season for quails? I must consult Cook.”
Bemused, Emm said, “Ma’am? Are you perhaps, thinking of organizing the wedding? Because there’s really no need—”
Miss Mallard glanced up. “Noneed? What a foolish question, child. Of course there is.”
“But it’s to be a small, quiet wedding only.”
“Nonsense! You don’t think I’m going to let an opportunity like this pass, do you? Not only do thepupilsof the Mallard Seminary marry well—we have three duchesses, two marchionesses, five countesses, six viscountesses and the rest”—she dismissed the lower titles with a wave—“even ourteacherscan marry earls!”
***
The days that followed disappeared in a whirl of activity. First came the visit to Madame Floria the dressmaker, who, once she heard whom Emm was to marry—and at the abbey, where no doubt the bishop would wed them—gladly and ruthlessly set aside her current orders and vowed she would have a most beautiful dress ready in time.
Emm then proceeded to disgust both Miss Mallard and Madame Floria by preferring a simple dress in sage green wool to their choice of silver tissue and lace.
“I don’t want anything fussy. It’s to be a quiet, practical wedding,” she told them. “Besides, I would rather be warm.”
“Nonsense, Emmaline. You’re to be acountess. His lordship might be impetuous in his haste to marry you, but you have a position to think of. You would not wish his lordship to be embarrassed by a drab bride, now would you? Of coursenot, so begin as you mean to go on.” Miss Mallard was determined Emm would make a splash, the dressmaker too.
In the end, they settled on a dress of cream silk, trimmed with lace and pearls simply cut, with puffed sleeves and topped—in a sop to what Miss Mallard called Emm’s ridiculous insistence on warmth; brides who were to become countesses apparently didn’tneedto be warm—with a long-sleeved spencer in cream silk velvet, delicately ruched, with a high collar, and buttoned down the front with pearl buttons. And when Madame Floria produced a lovely cream shawl of silk and cashmere, it was pronounced to be perfect.
It was the most expensive clothing Emm had ever owned, and the most beautiful, and since all her other clothes were extremely plain, not to mention rather worn in places, Emm decided to take Lord Ashendon at his word and ordered a dress in the sage green wool as well and a warm pelisse in claret velvet. She had no idea where they were going after the wedding—to London, or to his family seat, wherever that was, or somewhere else, but green wool was far more practical for traveling than cream velvet.
And there was some wisdom in beginning as she meant to go on. She might feel like the beggar maid to his King Cophetua, but she’d be damned if she would dress like it.
On that thought she ordered another two dresses, and a pelisse in dark green with silver braidingà la hussar.
To the order she added chemises, petticoats and various other undergarments, as well as stockings and four nightgowns, two in cotton lawn and two in thick flannel. Her own nightgowns were well worn, mended and patched in places and not something she wished anyone to see, not even a maid, let alone her husband.
These she insisted on paying for herself. It was bad enough expecting Lord Ashendon to pay for her wedding dress, but just the thought of him perusing a bill for her undergarments caused her cheeks to heat.
Then there were shoes to purchase—and here Emm fell for a pair of cream kid slippers, not in the slightest bit practical but so sweet and pretty, and a dashing pair of red leather ankle boots.
After years of hoarding every penny, it was frighteningly easy to fall into a frenzy of shopping, but Emm did her best to control herself. When you were marrying a man for reasons unrelated to love, you didn’t want to begin the marriage by going on a spending spree with his money.
The days flew past. There were invitations to write, fittings at Madame Floria’s, consultations with Cook and local suppliers over the wedding breakfast menu and most nerve-racking of all, a visit to Lady Dorothea and the girls who would become her sisters-in-law and niece by marriage.
She’d assumed Lord Ashendon would be there to introduce her as his affianced bride, but he hadn’t yet returned from London.
Emm had had some idea that they might resent her marrying him—she knew perfectly well the world would judge it a most unequal match, and while she’d always gotten on well with Lady Dorothea and the girls, having a pleasant acquaintanceship with a schoolteacher was one thing; welcoming that same schoolteacher into your family was quite another. And having a nobody suddenly outranking you... well, she couldn’t blame them for resenting her.
