They had walked to church, something that turned into a bit of an ordeal when it became obvious that a small crowd had gathered outside the gate. The arrival of carriages from Hinsford must have alerted everyone. They had come down the drive in a steady stream and with a great deal of noise and pomp while Lydia was still at home.
But the crowd parted before James and William, who were walking side by side ahead of Lydia and her father, and watched them proceed through the gate and up the path to the church.
And oh, she was so,soglad Harry’s whole family was here for their wedding after all. And that her father and two of her brothers were here too. She watched James and William stride on into the church and down to the front pew and then turned to her father.
He had tears in his eyes.
“Lydie.” He bent his head and kissed her cheek. “Be happy. It is all I have ever wanted for you. It is all your mother would have wanted.”
She swallowed and took his arm. And then she was walking with him to meet her bridegroom. What was that line from surely the loveliest of all the psalms?
My cup runneth over, she thought as she smiled at Harry and watched the tension and anxiety fade from his face before he smiled back.
They turned together to face the Reverend Bailey. Her father released her arm and took her hand in his instead— ready to give it to the man who was about to become her husband.
“Happy birthday,” Lydia whispered.
“Dearly beloved,” the vicar said.
By the time they came out of the vestry after signing the register, with Mrs. Bailey and Gil signing as witnesses, the members of the congregation were no longer sitting in their pews, speaking in hushed, reverential whispers, but were on their feet, talking and moving about.
His mother, Harry saw, was hugging Mr. Winterbourne, while Marcel and Joel were shaking the hands of his sons. But there was little chance to notice details, for as soon as he appeared, his bride on his arm, the church erupted in a most indecorous, irreverent burst of applause.
Lydia laughed.
Harry grinned.
Almost immediately they were engulfed in hugs and kisses and handshakes and backslappings and … And really everything was very much as Harry remembered Jessica and Gabriel’s wedding to have been two years ago in a small London church. Except that it felt different when one was the bridegroom instead of just a family member, and when it was one’s bride—one’swife—who was being enfolded in the arms of Aunt Matilda and then sobbed over by her father. And when one was oneself being hugged and laughed over by two sisters who had once upon a time thought him lower on the scale of living beings than a toad, and then by a third sister who told him she loved him more than she could possibly say. And then clutched to the bosom of first one grandmother and then the other. And having his arm squeezed by a radiantly smiling Winifred.
He bent down to allow Josephine to wrap her arms about his neck and kiss his cheek and noticed that Lydia was doing the same for Alice and Sarah.
By the time Harry was able to reclaim his bride and take her arm through his to lead her from the church, he was aware that a number of the younger people, including all the children, had disappeared, and he knew what was awaiting them outside. But how absolutelysplendidit felt to be the bridegroom and about to be the victim instead of the perpetrator—which he had been numerous times.
“Well, Mrs. Westcott,” he said as they approached the doors. “Are you ready to face the ordeal?”
“Oh, Harry,” she said, turning her head to smile at him—and all the sunshine wasstillthere inside her and beaming out from her eyes and her whole face. Had she left any outside, or was it all dark and gloomy out there? “I am, am I not? I am Lydia Westcott.”
The crowd beyond the gate had surely swelled since his arrival with Gil, Harry noticed. There was a crowd inside the gate too. The church path was lined with them on both sides—all the children over the age of about five, Cousins Peter and Ivan, Adrian Sawyer, Sally Underwood. And—a grinning Tom Corning.
All of them, of course, had fistfuls of flower petals. Some of the older ones had bags bulging with extra supplies.
And there was plenty of sunshine too.
“Oh,” Lydia said, and laughed.
Harry released her arm and took her hand in his instead. He laced their fingers tightly. “They will all be horribly disappointed if we do not run for it,” he said. “Ready?”
And they dashed along the path, pelted from all sides, Harry laughing, Lydia shrieking and laughing until they were through the gate, which someone had been kind enough to open for them. But Lydia stopped abruptly.
“Oh,” she said. “Oh, Harry,look.”
Her eyes were wide with wonder as she beheld the flower-bedecked carriage. It had been decorated early this morning. Harry had come to church in it. He would wager the fortune that was about to be his, however, that since then it had been further decorated—on its underside.
And then they were inside it and the door had been shut upon them. The congregation was spilling out of the church, the church bell began to ring, and the carriage moved away from the gate—to an unholy din from all the debris that had been fastened below it.
“Oh,” Lydia said again. At least, her mouth formed the word, though Harry could not hear the sound of it. He set an arm about her shoulders, cupped the side of her face with his other hand, and kissed her.
It was only as he did so and her arm came about him that he realized that had been a cheering,friendlycrowd. Those who were hostile to Lydia and perhaps him too had maybe not come to watch the show, of course. Or maybe some of them were realizing that there had been no scandal at all. Only a blossoming romance.
