Twenty-three
The day of the wedding dawned clear and bright, a perfect spring day. Maddy woke alone. Since they’d arrived at Whitethorn Manor two days before, she’d slept alone. Nash’s decision. Some peculiar masculine form of honor, she supposed. She didn’t care what the servants thought, she missed him.
Amazing how she could sleep alone for years, then in a matter of a few weeks find that a lanky masculine body curled around her had become essential to a good night’s sleep.
Lizzie brought her a hearty breakfast on a tray, but Maddy’s stomach was too full of butterflies to eat. She forced herself to nibble on a warm roll and drink some hot chocolate. Lizzie ate the bacon and eggs, saying, “A shame to waste it, miss.”
After a long, hot bath, using some delicious-smelling French soap delivered by Nell’s dresser, Maddy dressed for her wedding.
Her dress was the most beautiful she’d ever seen, let alone worn. Giselle and Claudine had outdone themselves. Made of heavy white satin, the bodice was covered in fine, handmade Brussels lace to just below the waist. The same lace rose from the hem to midthigh, like foam rising up the dress.
Lizzie and Cooper, Lady Nell’s maid, lifted the dress carefully over Maddy’s head, careful not to disturb her hair. Lizzie had outdone herself, twirling Maddy’s hair into a knot high on the crown and letting it fall in a tumble of artless curls. The hairstyle looked soft and pretty but was designed to bear the weight of a long lace train held in place by a slender tiara.
Maddy owned no jewelry, only Grand-mère’s locket, which Grand-mère had worn as a bride, one of the few things she’d saved from the Terror that Maddy hadn’t sold.
But how to wear it? She’d long ago sold the gold chain that held it. Maddy didn’t want to pin it onto the dress and risk tearing the fine satin, but she wasn’t going to be married without it.
“Perhaps you could string it on a white satin ribbon, miss,” Cooper suggested. “Tie it around your neck.”
They were searching for a suitable ribbon when a knock sounded at the door. Lizzie went to answer it. She returned with an air of suppressed excitement. “Mr. Nash said to give you this, with his compliments, miss.” She handed Maddy an oblong box covered in creamy velvet.
“Oh,” Maddy whispered as she opened it. Inside was a pearl necklace, along with a pair of diamond and pearl earrings, the most beautiful she’d ever seen.
She took out the necklace and held it against her neck. There was a small clasp at the center. Suddenly breathless, she opened the clasp and hooked on her grandmother’s locket. The clasp snapped shut and she stared at it in amazement. It was as if the necklace had been designed solely to hold her grandmother’s locket. “It’s perfect. But how . . . ?”
“Mr. Nash asked me about jewelry, miss, and I told him you only had this,” Lizzie confided. “You showed it to me once, and told me it was your gran’s.”
“And he had a necklace especially made to fit it.” Maddy’s eyes swam. How could he have known how much it meant to her?
She tried to put the necklace and earrings on, but her hands were shaking so much she had to let Lizzie and Cooper do it for her.
She stared at her reflection in the looking glass, at the beloved locket gleaming at her neck in its frame of pearls, at the diamonds and pearls dangling from her ears.
Grand-mère, see what he did for me? So I can wear your locket for my wedding.
“Are you ready, Maddy?” John asked. Dressed in his new, smart, formal suit, her little brother was taking his role as head of the family very seriously. Had he grown taller in the last few weeks? she wondered. Or was it simply that he’d been modeling himself on Nash and his brothers and held himself taller?
The boys hero-worshipped all the men, Nash and Harry in particular, and Nash’s care for them all, and Harry’s attitude to Nell and Torie, had certainly rubbed off on John and Henry. Several times Maddy had been caught between laughter and tears, realizing that some strange action by John or Henry was actually a small-boy attempt to be protective of her. It was very, very sweet.
“I’m ready,” she told him. They stepped into the church and paused to let their eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. It smelt of beeswax, brass cleaner, and flowers—flowers brought by the ladies of the parish: graceful sheaves of foxglove, chrysanthemum, and delphinium; branches of lilac, lilies, daffodils, and sweet-scented stocks.
To Maddy’s surprise every pew was filled and people stood around the walls. Lavishly dressed, elegant strangers, as well as the new friends who’d drawn Maddy into their close-knit circle. Harry and Nell had driven down two days before with Ethan and Tibby. Luke had come with his mother and sister, who loved weddings, and brought his friend, Rafe Ramsey, and Rafe’s lovely dark-haired wife, Ayisha.
Most of the villagers had crammed into the church as well, all dressed in their Sunday best. Maddy looked out over the sea of hats and her eyes blurred. Every village woman who’d ever had a hat refurbished by Maddy was wearing it now, at her wedding.
Maddy started trembling. So much love and goodwill was gathered here . . . for her. It was overwhelming. She’d felt so alone for so long.
The music started and John and Maddy walked slowly down the aisle, followed by Jane, Henry, Susan, and Lucy. Maddy was vaguely aware of Nash’s brothers standing beside him at the altar, of the bishop, gorgeous in his robes, of Mr. Matheson beaming, and Mrs. Matheson at the organ, of a sea of faces, some beloved, some strange, most smiling, Lady Gosforth dabbing lace to her eyes and Lizzie smiling wistfully, but Maddy’s gaze never wavered from Nash, who waited, tall and handsome, his blue eyes fixed on her, blazing . . .
He held out his hand to her and she took it, glad of the strong, male warmth of him. Rev. Matheson glanced at Nash, gave a little nod, and began,Dearly beloved . . .
The words passed in a blur . . .ordained for the procreation of children. . . A child of her own, hers and Nash’s. Perhaps in Russia . . .any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak. . . She would to have to speak soon, make her vows. Would her voice even work?
“Stop the wedding,” a voice thundered through the church. “That woman is legally promised to me.”
There was a sudden silence, then a buzz of speculation. As if in a dream, Maddy turned. “Mr. Hulme,” she whispered. Her knees buckled under her, but Nash caught her and held her against him, his arm like a band of steel around her, holding her up, claiming her.
“What is the meaning of this, sir?” the bishop boomed.
