“Should we go out the window and give those newspaper reporters a really great story?” Alida asked. “Or go the more conventional way through the door and then burst from the church at a run, all four of us holding hands?”
Lucy pointed out the window. “It will be hard to escape with the crowd out there.”
Cordelia’s eyes followed her finger. The crowd had trebled in size since she had left the carriage. She watched police officers in their bowler hats try to keep the spectators off the stairs of the church. Their carriages were completely surrounded by people of all classes. Everyone wanted a glimpse of an American princess, but she was nothing more than a prisoner. Foolishly, she still hoped to see Stuyvesant in the crowd—rushing to save her. But she did not recognize his tall, broad frame. The painful ache in her chest for the last three weeks dulled to numbness. He hadn’t truly loved her after all.
“Oh dear!” Julia said, shaking her head.
“They’ll make way for us,” Alida insisted. “And if they don’t, I will push our way through the crowd. I am not afraid.”
Cordelia didn’t doubt it. Alida might be fashionably slim, but she was tall and strong. Always the best at any sport.
“I would be ruined if I ran,” Cordelia said, touching her puffy, swollen cheeks. “This is my second chance to rejoin society.”
Alida folded her arms and huffed. “Ruined is better than being married to a complete stranger.”
“Will I be ruined too?”
They all turned around to see that Edith had entered the small room. Cordelia could tell that her sister was trying to act like a grown-up, but her lower lip trembled.
“Why would you be ruined, Edith?”
Her little sister sniffed, but two tears fell from her angelic blue eyes. “Mama said that if you don’t marry the English earl, our family will never be able to go out in public again… Is that true, Cordy? Will I lose all my friends? Will I have to come home from school?”
Cordelia hated both of her parents equally in that moment. She hated her father for his affairs. She hated her mother for making Cordelia pay the price for both of her parents’ sins. She wanted nothing more than to run away with her friends, but like herself, Edith was blameless. But New York society, particularly theFour Hundred, did not care about the truth. Or about a little girl’s feelings. They were quick to gossip, to scorn, and to exclude.
She no longer cared if they snubbed her. Her friends, her true friends, still loved her. They would stand beside her, no matter what her decision was. All but Stuyvesant. He had proven not to be a true friend or a true prince. He hadn’t loved her enough.
Cordelia wrapped her arms around her little sister and pulled her close. “I love you and I promise that you will never be ruined.”
“But—” Alida began, and her mother walked into the room.
“Why are you not ready, Cordelia?” she demanded and then turned to her friends. “You are her attendants. Why have you not put on her veil and arranged her train?”
Lucy looked to Cordelia for guidance. Cordelia nodded slightly. She was marrying for love after all—the love she felt for her little sister.
Julia and Lucy gently picked up her long veil and covered Cordelia’s face. They each took a side of her gown and made sure that every ruffle and flounce was perfect all the way down to the lace on the back of the train. Alida kept her arms folded across her flat chest and glared at them mulishly, but she didn’t say anything.
“I suppose you want Lucy to go first,” her mother said.
“Yes,” Cordelia said.
Lucy would be her first attendant.
“I shall go last,” Alida said. “And if you should change your mind, I’ll happily hold your train and run out the door with you.”
“Miss Wilson, that is quite enough,” her mother said sharply. “But as you wish, your sister will be second, and you shall be third in the procession.”
Her mother handed each of her friends a large bouquet of flowers from the table and ushered them out of the room. In the vestibule, there were three gentlemen waiting to offer their arms. She recognized Mr. Fish, Mr. Schermerhorn, and Mr. McAllister. They were all very eligible and wealthy young men. She watched her friends each take an arm. Then her mother took Edith by the shoulders and steered her to a young man about the same age. His face was covered in red spots. He didn’t look pleased to be touching a girl or to be taking part in Cordelia’s wedding.
Once her mother had ascertained that everything and everyone was exactly as it should be, she entered the chapel. She was the last guest.
A few moments later, she heard the organ start to play and the choir begin to sing.
“Ready?” her father asked, offering his arm.
Unable to find words, Cordelia placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Matching-height footmen opened the double doors. Edith and the spotted boy went first. Followed by Lucy, Julia, and then Alida and their escorts.
“Everything will be fine,” her father whispered and patted her gloved hand with his.
