Forever (14 page)

She snatched up an infinitesimal wisp of lace with her initials lavishly embroidered on one corner. ‘I must go down to your father, Gussie. He's been suddenly having second thoughts, saying that you're too young. Silly man. He just can't bear the thought of your being a wife as well as a daughter.' She whirled from the room and Eden, after giving Gussie another searching glance, followed her.

Gussie was alone. Slowly she rose from the bed and crossed to the dressing table. She sat down and stared at herself in the mirror. At herself and beyond. He was absent. She felt a sudden rush of tears to her eyes. Had he already left her? So soon? The pain was almost more than she could bear.

‘I would have married you, my love,' she whispered to the mirror that stubbornly reflected only her own image. ‘I would have loved you forever and forever and never been unfaithful. I
do
love you. I always will. But you're dead and Bradley's alive …'

She moaned softly, hugging her arms, holding herself as if against an inner disintegration.

‘Gussie!' There was the sound of running feet on the stairs. She gazed desperately into the mirror but only the room was reflected: the room and her own anguished eyes.

‘Goodbye, dear love,' she said and pressed a kiss against the cold glass.

‘For goodness'sake, Gussie! Your father's on the verge of a heart attack. Here are your flowers. Aren't they beautiful?' Tina Lafayette pressed a posy of white roses and long satin streamers into her hand. ‘Ready, sweetheart? This really is fun. There's even a crowd outside St Michel, waiting to wish you well. Your wedding seems to have grasped everyone's imagination.'

Gussie stood at the top of the sweeping staircase and heard a concerted gasp of admiration from the servants gathered in the hall. She took a deep breath. One part of her life was over and another about to begin. She was committing herself to Bradley and Beau had freed her. She had wanted his blessing: wanted him to tell her that now he, too, would be at peace. He had not done so. His presence had simply drifted away …

Bradley. She must think of Bradley.

‘I've never seen you more beautiful, Augusta,' her father said sincerely as she took his arm.

She smiled up at him, happy that he was happy.

Mae adjusted the wedding veil and Tina dabbed in the vicinity of her eyes, careful not to touch them and ruin her make-up, as Charles Lafayette led his daughter to the waiting limousine.

Gussie waved to the small group of spectators at St Michel's gates, her smile spontaneous. Eden relaxed. Gussie's odd mood had been dispelled. She was looking as radiant as any bride. The sky was cloudless; the sun brilliant. It was going to be a perfect day.

From inside the cathedral came the strains of ‘Prière a Notre Dame'.

‘Seven minutes late,' Tina Lafayette said with satisfaction as they were greeted in the porch by a smiling priest. ‘Just long enough to make Bradley edgy.'

‘Ready, Augusta?' her father asked tenderly.

Her eyes sparkled behind her veil. ‘Yes, Daddy. Let's go.'

Mendelsshon's ‘Wedding March' rang out. The packed congregation rose to its feet, necks craning for a first glimpse of the bride. Eden's eyes wandered to the cathedral windows. The sun had vanished, and storm clouds were brewing. They blew up more suddenly and violently in New Orleans than in any other place she knew. She frowned. A torrential downpour was the last thing they needed as they left the cathedral. It would mean a hasty dash to the cars and a dramatic curtailing of photographs.

Gussie's eyes were fixed firmly on the back of Bradley's head. She felt suffused with an almost unbearable sense of love and tenderness. His dark hair curled indecently low in a manner she knew her father would disapprove of if the young man had been any other than Bradley. Jason Shreve stood at his side, his neck flushed. Gussie's mouth curved in a smile. She could imagine Jason's discomfort at taking part in a ceremony before the town's leading citizens.

In the distance, surmounting the rich, stately strains of the ‘Wedding March', there came the low rumble of thunder. Gussie was unperturbed. It had thundered that day in Jackson Square when Bradley had seized her and kissed her for the first time. It was romantic that thunder should return on her wedding day, reminding her of that occasion: of the moment when she had first been aware of the intensity of Bradley's feelings for her.

Her gaze flicked away from Bradley's waiting figure and over the heads of the congregation. She could see Desirée in a lime-green dress and matching pill-box hat, looking unexpectedly sophisticated. Shreves, Ashingtons, Jeffersons, Alexanders, Delatours, Lafittes, Hamptons, Merri-weathers, Villères, Labarres, Brennans and Fairmonts abounded. No one had been forgotten. No one omitted from the invitation list. Bradley had seen to that. He'd wanted his schoolfriends and colleagues at his wedding, and Charles Lafayette had had to capitulate.

The priest stepped forward. Gussie was at Bradley's side. She turned and handed her bouquet to Mae and then looked towards Bradley, suddenly shy. He grinned, his dark eyes reassuring as the priest who had known them since childhood greeted the congregation.

Normally Father Keane was not in favour of early marriages, but in this case he felt no doubt as to the young people's future happiness. Bradley Hampton was a fine young man, mature beyond his years. He smiled down at them as the guests began to sing ‘Love Divine, All Love Excelling'.

The cathedral darkened and Mrs Jefferson gazed up from her hymn book nervously. She was afraid of thunder and the approaching storm promised to be severe.

‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit …' Father Keane's voice was deep, resonant.

‘Amen.'

Thunder rolled in the distance.

‘The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.'

‘And also with you.'

Gussie's lips were suddenly dry as the hundreds of voices behind her filled the beautiful building. The wave of joy that had supported her as she walked down the aisle was fast ebbing and she sought vainly to keep a hold on it.

Father Keane was now reading Gussie's favourite passage from the New Testament. She tried to concentrate on the words but her mind was tugging to be free.

‘This is the word of the Lord,' Father Keane concluded.

‘Thanks be to God.'

Gussie's lips moved but no sound came from them. She heard Bradley at her side: firm, assured, confident. Bradley. She must think of Bradley. She must not let Beau intrude on the most private part of her relationship with Bradley.

The Responsorial Psalm was sung. A flash of lightning made several heads turn in the direction of the windows. Gussie kept her eyes firmly on the high altar. Bradley. She was marrying Bradley. This was her wedding service. Soon they would be exchanging their wedding vows. Soon they would be man and wife. Beau's face swam before her, dark, lean, mocking.

‘Augusta and Bradley. You have come together in this church so that the Lord may seal and strengthen your love in the presence of the church's minister and this community.'

Gussie closed her eyes, trying to chase the image away. It remained against her pressed lids: sensually aware, sensually arousing.

‘Christ abundantly blesses this love. He has already consecrated you in baptism and now he enriches and strengthens you by special sacrament so that you may assume the duties of marriage in mutual and lasting fidelity.'

Gussie felt a bead of sweat break out on her forehead as she opened her eyes once more.

‘Please go away,' she whispered silently. ‘Please!
Please!
'

‘And so, in the presence of the church, I ask you to state your intentions.'

Father Keane's eyes were drawn momentarily to the soaring windows. The October sky was as black as night, the rolls of thunder following one upon the other in rapid succession. He returned his attention to the young couple before him.

‘Augusta and Bradley. I shall now ask you to freely undertake the obligations of marriage, and to state that there is no legal impediment to your marriage. Are you ready to do this, and without reservation, to give yourselves to each other in marriage?'

‘I am.' Bradley's deep-timbred voice was audible even to those at the rear of the cathedral.

Augusta tried to speak and failed. Father Keane smiled at her encouragingly. The most spirited of girls were often overcome by the ceremony of their own marriage.

‘I …' Beau's face swam before her, the black glittering eyes challenging her. Daring her.

‘I am,' said a voice that could not possibly be hers.

‘Are you ready to love and honour each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?'

The harsh lines of Beau's mouth were savage.

‘I am,' Bradley said without the least hesitation.

The congregation waited for the bride's response. Feet shifted. The centre of the storm was fast approaching, brilliant flashes of lightning rending the darkened sky.

Gussie closed her eyes. Her father's pride turned to concern.

‘I am,' Gussie whispered, so low that only Father Keane heard her.

Thunder drowned his next words. He waited a few seconds and then continued, raising his voice to combat the disruptive elements.

‘Are you ready to accept children lovingly from God, and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his church?'

‘I am.' If Bradley was aware of Gussie's inner turmoil, he showed no sign of it. With glazed eyes Gussie looked at Father Keane and towards the high altar. Beau had gone.

She could see flowers and altar boys and Father Keane's face, prompting and concerned. What had he just said? What did she have to respond?

‘I am,' she said, her voice tremulous.

Father Keane was looking at Bradley. ‘Please say after me, “I do solemnly declare …”'

‘I do solemnly declare …'

Beau's face no longer hovered before her but he was there. She could feel his anger; his rage; his passionate jealousy.

‘… why I, Bradley Hampton, should not be joined in matrimony to Augusta Lafayette.'

Candles flickered. The gloom of the cathedral was oppressive. Small hands slipped into strong ones as lightning ripped the sky. The congregation was accustomed to sudden, violent storms, but this was the worst anyone could remember.

She had to speak. She had to make her responses. The thunder and the lightning were no longer nostalgic reminders of her first encounter with Bradley. They were terrifying reminders of the storm that had accompanied the burial of Laetitia Clay. Reminders that Beau's body had been seized from its resting place.

‘After me, Augusta, please,' Father Keane was saying.

She felt enveloped in darkness. Father Keane's face swam disorientatedly before her.

‘I do solemnly declare …'

The skin of her hands and arms tingled. The nape of her neck felt cold. Her spine chilled.

‘… that I know not …'

She couldn't be sick on her wedding day: not before the whole of New Orleans and in the gown of French lace her grandmother and mother had worn before her.

‘… of any lawful impediment … why I … Augusta Lafayette …'

She was swamped by heat, drowning in sweat.

‘… may not be joined in matrimony to Bradley Hampton.'

‘Augusta! Augusta!'

It came so loud and clear that she gasped and nearly fell.

Mae stood horrified. Eden stepped forward hastily, catching Gussie's arm and steadying her.

Gussie gazed round her, wild-eyed. Hadn't Bradley and Father Keane heard? Why were they looking at her like that?

Father Keane was saying, ‘Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, declare your consent before God and his church.'

‘Never, Augusta! Never! You are mine! Mine forever. Forever …'

Gussie cried out, her arms reaching as if to grasp something that was not there.

‘Would you like me to halt the service?' Father Keane asked Bradley in a low voice.

‘No.' Bradley gave Charles Lafayette no chance to express an opinion.

Rain lashed the windows. The very sky seemed to be falling in around them.

‘Very well.' Father Keane took another anxious look at the bride and said to Bradley, ‘Bradley Hampton, will you take Augusta Lafayette, here present, for your lawful wife, according to the rite of our Holy Mother, the Church?'

‘I will.'

There was a noise in her ears like a thousand waves.

‘Augusta Lafayette, will you take Bradley Hampton, here present, for your lawful husband, according to the rite of our Holy Mother, the Church?'

‘AUGUSTA!'
It was a shout of rage.

With a low moan she swung on her heel, away from the altar, away from Father Keane. The cathedral doors crashed open and lightning knifed down the aisle.

Mrs Jefferson threw herself on her knees, convinced that her last moment had come. There were screams and cries of panic. Bradley's arm shot out to restrain Gussie but she had no need of restraint. Her headlong flight was halted.
He
was there. There, for everyone to see. Dark and terrible in his rage, silhouetted against the flaring sky.

‘Beau!'
She wrenched herself away from Bradley's grasp and with a broken sob began to run, run, to where he was waiting for her.

The lightning flashed again, blinding in its intensity. She was caught in its jagged path, caught and pinned, falling senselessly to the blood-red carpet, her white skirts billowing around her.

To Eden's petrified gaze she looked like a small, defenceless, murdered dove. It seemed an eternity before anyone could break the stupor of shock and run to her aid. Bradley was the first to regain control of his senses. Grim-faced he ran down the aisle between the pews of stunned and terrified guests and seized his bride. His bride, but not his wife. Father Keane was at his side. Jason Shreve was desperately clearing a way through hysterical relatives to the vestry.