There was a knock at the door and Mr. Fisk, Willow’s manservant, could be heard calling, “They are ready for you, Miss Sabine.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fisk,” called Willow and she stooped to gather Sabine’s long train. “Up you go,” she said. “We mustn’t keep them waiting.”
“Flowers!” called Tessa, scooping up a bouquet of daffodils, purple crocus, and white snowdrops.
The trio of women bustled to the door, Perry rushing to keep up with her box of hairpins, combs, stray flowers, and handkerchiefs. Sabine allowed herself to be swept along but she paused when Willow reached for the knob.
“Willow—wait,” said Sabine.
Willow turned back. “What is it?”
Sabine looked down at her dress and flowers and up to her friends. “Is this... silly?”
“Is what silly?” Tessa stepped around her.
“Making such a fuss over an event that, in the eyes of God and man, has already happened?”
Tessa said, “Sabine, you’ve always been too suspicious of things that might appearsilly.Indulge yourself. Enjoy it. You’ve earned this moment.”
“I am not suspicious,” corrected Sabine, “I am practical.” She gestured to the profusion of soft yellow silk that hung from her waist in frothy layers. “And this is not practical.”
“Yellow can be worn all summer, Miss Sabine,” recited Perry with authority.
Willow held out a hand to quiet the maid. “Forgive us, Sabine. We’ve dominated your dressing room with talk about ourselves and may have overlooked your... hesitation. But let us not be rushed. We will not lose this moment to flowers or cakes or the guests. Take a deep breath.”
“I can’t,” laughed Sabine, wiggling her torso in the tight corset.
“Perry, fetch a glass of water—no, actually, is that champagne in the drinks cart? Yes, let us have a toast. There you are. Now, Sabine.Mrs. Stoker.” Willow winked and they laughed. “You have our full attention. What gave you the notion to host a second wedding?”
“Well,” Sabine said, examining the vibrant flowers in her bouquet, “it would bring no end of joy to my mother. I was lost to her these past five years. And Stoker and I began our marriage under duress, as you know. He was quite literally my last resort. When I found him five years later, he’d been left for dead, so in a way, I became his.” She shook her head at the flowers. “Surely, practicality can be put aside for one day to transcend these tragedies with something pleasanter?”
“Practicality can always be set aside,” proclaimed Tessa, relieving Perry of the champagne glass and taking a sip. “Life will wallop us with tragedy whether we plan for it or not. It’s our duty to fight back by making fun when we can, prioritizing celebrations, reveling in the happy times.”
“The epitaph on your gravestone, Tessa, will read, ‘Here lies Tessa Chance. She prioritized celebrations,’” said Willow.
“I love it,” said Tessa, taking another drink. “Someone please make a note.”
Outside the door, a servant knocked insistently. “The carriage is ready, ladies.”
“Another moment,”called Willow, bracing her hand against the door. To Sabine she said, “But what has Stoker said about today?”
“He did not challenge the idea when I raised it,” said Sabine, looking up. “The idea came a fortnight or so after we’d moved to Park Lodge from London. I was showing him yet another corner of the grounds when we came upon the chapel. I said something wistful about having a real wedding. I was thinking out loud, really; and he said, it should be done.”
Someone knocked on the door again and Willow fell against it, her back to the wood.“In a minute!”she called with irritation. “But perhaps it is for him that you are doing it—for Stoker?”
Sabine turned and fell against the door beside her friend. She looked over, and her eyes were bright with tears. “So very few things were done properly in his life, don’t you see? His childhood was horrifying. His father endeavored to claim him, but not before he tried to have him killed first. He was educated by a loving family, but their love feels like charity to him. I married him to save my own skin. I... I want him to have a fresh start that feels proper and legitimate and considered in every way. I want the vicar to say, ‘You may kiss the bride,’ and for him to feel as if I am his proper bride, in earnest, and that I long to be kissed. I want him to feel as if he is a part of this estate and this family and future that we build together.”
“Careful, Sabine,” said Tessa, patting her hair, “these reasons sound very practical to me.”
Willow laughed. “There. You have your reasons, do you see? Now, let us enjoy this wedding and this day and each other. We’ve won this round, all three of us. It is Sabine’s wedding, but we shall all celebrate today.”
In the vestry of the chapel on the northwest corner of Park Lodge’s estate, three of the wealthiest men in England, the so called “Guano Barons” of 1835, waited for their summons to the altar, a bridegroom and his two best men.
“Perhaps she’s cried off,” said Joseph Chance, taking a nip of brandy from a flask and passing it to the Earl of Cassin.
“Perhaps she prefers you unconscious and in bed,” said Cassin.
She does not prefer me unconscious in bed,Stoker thought but he said nothing, accepting the flask from Cassin.
