“No reason?” he asked with a laugh. “There is every reason to turn this one down. You could have made an excuse to Mr. Hearst.”
“No one says no to William Randolph Hearst.” Even as I said the words, I knew it was just an excuse.
I wanted to be here today.
Ever since I’d recovered from the accident, Mr. Hearst had been paying me to write articles for his newspaper, theNew York Journal. I still wrote for theNew York Globeand had begun writing forThe Washington Timesafter we moved to DC. Writing for two New York newspapers required regular trips to the city, but I didn’t mind coming back. New York would always feel like home.
“I’m not sure how many trips I’ll be able to take once the baby arrives,” I told him as I laid a hand on my growing midsection, “so I’m taking advantage of this opportunity while I still can.”
“Mr. Hearst capitalizes on sensationalism, which is often at the expense of people’s privacy,” Luc said, his voice reflecting his dislike of Hearst’s business practices. “That’s why he sent you here. Are you sure you want to add to her misery by writing this article?”
I looked down the street at the approaching carriage and tried to contain the feelings surging within me. Anticipation, excitement, fear—but it was nothing compared to what she was feeling right now.
“Whether I’m here or not,” I said, preparing my camera, “she must endure today. She won’t even notice me. I’m simply a face in the crowd.” I couldn’t contain my eagerness, and I smiled at him. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get another chance to see her.”
He smiled as he put one hand on the small of my back and kissed my temple. “Who knows what adventure life will throw at us next?”
“A baby. That’s our next big adventure.”
He grinned. “I can’t wait.”
For the past eighteen months, Luc and I had been busy establishing our careers. While I had been writing for three newspapers, he had started a flying school in DC and had begun advising the government on use of aeroplanes in the military. His business had grown faster than we anticipated and occupied much of his time. But he was happy to be done with exhibition flying, and I was happy to know he would never perform the death dive again. Years ago, Mama had mentioned that WWI was on the horizon, and though I hadn’t mentioned it to Luc, I knew he would be instrumental in developing aviation for the war effort. He would be invaluable as a consultant and instructor for the US government.
As for me, I hadn’t flown an aeroplane since the accident in Long Beach, but Luc had convinced me to go up with him as a passenger on several occasions. I loved the feel of the air and knew it would always be in my blood—I just had no interest in piloting an aeroplane ever again.
I was thankful Luc was able to be here with me today. When Mama heard what I had done, she’d probably scold me. Luc would be a buffer between us, though she wouldn’t stay mad for long. Not once I gave her a copy of the picture I was about to take.
The beautiful black carriage drew closer to St. Thomas Episcopal Church. Yards of white flower garland had been draped on the sides of the carriage. As it passed through an intersection, a police officer stopped the cross traffic and doffed his cap at the bride and her father, who sat within.
My heart pounded as the carriage came to a stop in front of the church. The crowds cheered, and the bride’s father waved hiswhite-gloved hand at the onlookers. The driver stepped down from his perch and opened the door, allowing the bride’s father to exit first. He turned and offered his hand to his daughter. She took it and stepped out of the carriage.
She wore an exquisite gown of white silk with a long train embroidered with flowers along the scalloped edges. Her veil covered her face, but she was so close, I could make out her features clearly—and though I couldn’t see them, I knew she had tears upon her cheeks.
Women tossed flowers onto the bride’s path as her mother pulled up in an automobile and was escorted into the church without looking at her. A servant arranged her train and veil and then handed her a bouquet of flowers before offering a gentle smile and disappearing into the church.
As the bride took her father’s arm and looked up at the imposing Gothic façade of the church, I lifted my camera and snapped a picture.
Her gaze slipped to mine, and I held my breath.
For a heartbeat, I looked into the beautiful green eyes of my grandmother Libby. She was only twenty and just embarking on her own journey. She didn’t know who I was—would never know me—but it was enough that I knew her.
Just as quickly, she looked down at the ground and allowed her father to walk her into the church. Someone closed the heavy doors behind her, and the moment was over.
Several people began to walk away while others stayed, waiting for the bride and groom to exit the church after the wedding.
But I had what I needed, and I was ready to leave.
I had no desire to see Libby’s husband, Lord Reginald Fairhaven, the Marquess of Cumberland. Especially knowing he would make my grandmother’s life miserable—until she found her happily-ever-after with my grandfather Henry.
“Ready to go?” Luc asked as he offered me his arm.
I set my camera in my leather bag and then wrapped my arm through his and nodded.
As we walked away from St. Thomas’s, Luc asked, “What are you thinking about, ma chérie?”
“Hope.”
He smiled as he set his hand over mine. “When do you not think of Hope?”
