She leaned against her mother, drinking her warming cup of chocolate, savoring the sweet taste. “I know why you decided that. You always know the right thing to do. I am so very grateful to you and Papa. I feared I am a disappointment to you.”
“Never, my sweet girl.” Mama hugged her. “You deserve the best, Helen. And God willing, you have found it in a good man.
“Now, your first night with Peyton,” she said briskly, putting down her cup. “I believe it’s always good for a young woman to have some idea of what to expect. I know you feel you’re not an innocent, but darling, believe me, you are. Sit still and listen, and then you may ask questions if you wish.”
“Send for Mary, it’s time to dress for the ceremony at eleven o’clock.” Mama rose, leaving Helen blushing furiously after a talk which proved enlightening, but failed to banish her nerves.
A half hour later, Helen stood before the mirror as Diana arranged her veil. She was very pleased with the result. Her skin looked creamy, and her eyes sparkled.
“You look beautiful, Helen.”
“Thank you, dearest.” Perhaps love made one beautiful, Helen thought.
Mary handed her the bouquet of white roses and peonies. And, with a deep breath, she descended the staircase with Diana to the hall where their father waited, a hand on the bannister, smiling up at them.
Helen advanced down the aisle on her father’s arm in the exquisitely painted chapel, decorated and perfumed with white flowers. Diana followed, in pale blue, with Zander, serious in a gray velvet suit, holding the ring on its pillow. She smiled at Uncle Nicholas who sat next to Harry and winked at her. Her distinguished, elegant grandfather gave her an approving nod.
Mama smiled teary-eyed from the front pew.
Jason waited at the altar with Charlie, his groomsman. Two tall handsome men in dark blue and crisp white with camellia boutonnieres.
Helen looked up into Jason’s warm, appreciative gaze. “You aresobeautiful,” he murmured.
The vicar cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved…”
When her father stepped forward to give her away, Helen’s eyes blurred with tears. She was leaving his care forever and moving forward into a new life. And though she welcomed it, she couldn’t help a pang of loss.
The vicar cleared his throat, and the ceremony began.
Zander had managed, walking slowly with great care, to hand over the ring. His duty done, he smiled his singularly sweet smile and scurried back to Mama.
Her glove removed, Jason took her hand in his.
“With this ring, I thee wed…”
His gaze rested on her as he repeated: “With my body I thee worship...”
Then the vicar spoke the final words, “I pronounce that they be man and wife…”
Man and wife!Helen kissed her husband and smiled into his ardent green eyes.
After the signing of the register, all was a blur. A wonderful rejoicing, thanking hundreds of guests for their blessings, picking at the rich, exotic foods while her mother urged her to eat. And trying not to drink too much champagne. The deep pride she felt when her father spoke in glowing terms of his eldest daughter. Then laughing with Jason as Harry, his bright blue eyes alight with mischief, described her failure to accomplish fly fishing, despite his supreme patience, and her auspicious beginnings as an equestrian, when the bad-tempered pony she had as a child threw her into a hedge. He ended with how she could add up sums when they played cards, faster than anyone he knew and, surprisingly, beat him once or twice at chess.
Then the orchestra struck up, and Jason swept her expertly over the floor for the bridal waltz before everyone joined in.
Now she stood once again in her bedroom, slightly dizzy, a married lady. Mary helped her dress as she became aware that she would soon say goodbye to everything she had known up until this moment. In the mirror, she was pleased with how smart she looked in her new celestial blue pelisse, the hat of spotted blue velvet adorned with a plume of ostrich feathers, her half-boots of lemon kid leather. A surge of excitement spun through her as she arranged her India shawl over her shoulders.
The weather, which had been perfect all day, threatened rain. It would be some hours before she and Jason could be alone. He had invited Mary to travel with them rather than wait for his valet, who was to follow along later.
Helen leaned out of the carriage window and waved a final goodbye to her family, dwarfed by Walcott’s six towering pillars as they gathered on the mosaic-tiled portico. Inside, the ballroom was still full of guests, some of whom would stay for several days.
She sat back against the well-padded leather squabs while Jason held her hand, his warm gaze resting on her. Was he as she was, thinking of their wedding night?
The carriage pulled away and rattled along the avenue of ancient gnarled trees. They had begun their four-hour journey to Surrey and Peyton Grove.
Epilogue
The weather had turned the roads to mud and made the traveling difficult and slow. Dusk had fallen before the carriage passed through the tall, wrought-iron gates of Peyton Grove.
