The Taylors meanwhile did not neglect Matthew. They came several times to call upon him, sometimes Reginald and Adelaide, sometimes Philip and Emily, once Mabel and Albert. On one occasion his brother and sister-in-law brought Anthony, their younger son, the one who lived in London. He was making a brief visit to his parents, he explained, while his wife and sons went to spend time with her sister following the latter’s confinement. He seemedpleased to meet his uncle, though he looked about the rooms above the smithy with unconcealed astonishment.
And finally the cottage was finished. The new furniture was moved in and arranged, rugs were laid on the floor, pictures were hung on the walls, books were properly organized in the bookcase, favorite carvings were displayed, most notably the one of the girl against the tree in the place of honor on the mantel above the fireplace in the sitting room—it would have been too pretentious, they agreed, to call it the drawing room. And all was ready.
The cottage was far more wonderful even than it had been in Clarissa’s dreams. For it was not just a dream house. It was a home in which to live. And love. And make memories. There was no garden yet, only the wide riverbank beyond the red door, somewhat churned up by the workmen and their supplies. But that did not matter. It left more dreams to be dreamed and goals to be worked toward.
But before Clarissa and Matthew took up residence, there was to be a wedding.
Everyone was coming, all Matthew’s family and all Clarissa’s. Nicholas had been granted a two-week leave from his new posting at the Horse Guards. Even Jennifer was coming from Penallen with Ben and Joy and Ben’s aunt. And Philippa was coming too, all the way from Greystone with Lucas and the twins, even though both she and Jennifer were expecting their babies not long into the New Year. They were coming because…how could they not? That was how Jennifer explained it, anyway, after Ben had lifted her out of the carriage and set her down in her wheeled chair upon their arrival. Stephanie came with her sister and family.
Jennifer was the sister of Lucas, Philippa’s husband. Her child and Pippa’s would be cousins and very close in age. That would belovely for them at family gatherings in the future, Clarissa thought. She had a mental image of them playing together before a crackling fire in the sitting room at the cottage.
Soon all became the familiar madness of preparation for a grand event at Ravenswood, except that now it was Gwyneth who assumed charge of all the planning, insisting that her mother-in-law was not to be allowed to do a thing except what related to her role as bride—the choosing of her wedding dress, for example, and of Joy and Matthew’s great-nieces as her bridesmaids. And the music, which she and Matthew jointly discussed with Sir Ifor.
Clarissa was quite content to leave all the planning and arranging to everyone else. She did think wistfully a few times about Matthew’s joking suggestion that they elope. But she remembered too that weddings were for families more than they were for the bride and groom. Let them enjoy themselves, then.
She enjoyed herself meanwhile dreaming of the future and walking hand in hand with Matthew about the park in the late afternoons after he had finished work.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Matthew was feeling smart and slightly uncomfortable in the new coat and breeches—the new everything, in fact—he had decided he needed for his wedding. He had actually gone to London to be measured and fitted for them, accompanied by Lord Hardington and Reggie.
The evening clothes he had worn to every evening event for the past number of years just would not do for the occasion, he had admitted to himself somewhat ruefully—though he had worn them to the wedding eve community banquet in the ballroom at Ravenswood last evening. It had been hosted by the Earl and Countess of Stratton and had been a large and merry affair. The whole family had been there, his own as well as Clarissa’s, though they had been far outnumbered by all the neighbors for miles around. Indeed, Matthew could not think of anyone who had not been there.
He had surprised himself by enjoying himself enormously. Clarissa, flushed and resplendent in a figure-hugging scarlet gown, had enjoyed herself too. They certainly had not behaved like a couplewho were longing to retreat from the world. But how wonderful it was, he realized, that they could do both after today—enjoy socializing with others and being alone together as well.
“You are looking very smart indeed,” Reggie said, coming through the door from Matthew’s living room into his bedchamber. He stood in the doorway, admiring his brother’s appearance.
His tailed coat was black, his breeches buff colored, his boots black and shining. His shirt and neckcloth were white, his silk waistcoat ivory. A red rosebud was pinned to his lapel.
“And all done without the services of a valet,” Reggie said.
“I would have felt like an idiot,” Matthew said. Stratton had offered the services of his own valet. So had Colonel Wexford and Lord Hardington.
“Shall we walk over to the church?” Reggie said.
He was Matthew’s best man. He had already walked from Ravenswood, where he was staying with his whole family. All of Clarissa’s family was there too—her parents and her brother and his wife, and all the Wares, even the Duchess of Wilby and Lady Jennifer Ellis, both of whom had been looking rather large with child but blooming with good health last evening.
“It is a little early,” he said. “But perhaps if we go now we can creep inside without anyone seeing us.”
His brother laughed as he shook his head and slapped him on the shoulder. “You are dealing with aristocracy here, Matt,” he said.
They were not going to escape anything, of course, as Matthew saw even while they were descending the stairs outside his rooms. He did not have to reach the bottom and see the church farther along the street. The village green was already half crowded with people. So was the street itself. It was a chilly December morning, though the sun was shining and the wind was down. But the coldhad not deterred those who wished to watch the guests arrive at the church—and the bride and groom leave it after the wedding service.
Someone set up a bit of a cheer, and those standing in the street opened up a sort of pathway for Matthew and Reggie to pass through. Matthew grinned and waved to the crowd before turning into the churchyard and ducking inside the church. It was decorated with white lilies and red roses and winter greenery, and the full reality of the moment hit Matthew like a physical thing.
“It is my wedding day,” he said aloud.
“I am very relieved you have remembered,” Reggie said, laughing.
Sir Ifor Rhys, seated at the organ, was practicing some piece with a whole lot of intricate trills.
—
Clarissa had decided upon simplicity. She wore an ivory-colored velvet dress, the sleeves long, the neckline and waistline high, the skirt narrow at the front and sides but flowing at the back to allow ease of movement. She would don the matching cloak and bonnet before she left the house. She was going to carry a rather lavish bouquet of red roses and fern. Joy and Matthew’s two great-nieces were to wear red velvet.
She was dressed early. Millicent had finished with her hair. She stood in her private sitting room now, looking out at the wintry landscape, the branches of the trees bare against a pale blue sky. She loved the changing of the seasons. She loved winter. She was glad there were a few months of it still to come.
It would be the last time she would stand here like this, belonging in this room, in this house. She had stood here all those months ago after returning from London alone, wondering what the future held in store for her, wondering if she was going to be able to shapeit into something meaningful, something that would make her happy and give her a renewed zeal for living.
