Moonflower Madness (24 page)

Gianetta could have hugged her for her kindness. With Elizabeth's help, her wedding was going to be delightfully traditional, instead of being prosaically make-shift.

‘I believe some brides wear blue garters, but I doubt if we'll find any of those in the mission,' Elizabeth continued, amusing Gianetta vastly. ‘I do have a blue ribbon though. We could pin it on your underskirt, or tie your bridal bouquet with it.'

‘And will you be my matron-of-honour?' Gianetta asked as Elizabeth began to lead the way up a wide flight of shallow steps.

Elizabeth was so surprised that she almost lost her footing. ‘But I'm nearly fifty, my dear! Isn't that a little old to be a matron-of-honour?'

‘Matrons-of-honour can be any age.'

Elizabeth flushed with almost girlish pleasure. ‘Then I would love to be your matron-of-honour. Now, we must choose at least two hymns. Jung-shou's sister plays the piano for church services. She doesn't have a very wide repertoire but I'm sure she could manage the Twenty-third Psalm or “The Voice that Breathed O'er Eden”.'

‘Then “The Voice that Breathed O'er Eden” it shall be,' Gianetta said, enjoying herself enormously. ‘And what about the children, Elizabeth? I saw a host of small children yesterday in one of the school-rooms. Could they be guests at my wedding?'

‘Of course they can. It's a wonderful idea. We've never had a European wedding here before.'

They entered a large sunny bedroom and she said in sudden consternation, ‘Oh my goodness! Chinese wedding-dresses are red! You don't think Mr Cartwright will return with a red wedding dress, do you?'

Their eyes held in temporary dismay and then Gianetta began to giggle. ‘It won't matter if he does. As the wife of a plant-hunter I'm going to have to accommodate myself to all kinds of strange experiences. Being married in red will be a symbolic remainder of what I'm letting myself in for.'

The next couple of hours were a flurry of activity. Jung-shou filled the hip-bath with steamingly hot water. Elizabeth donated a packet of fragrant bath-crystals she had been keeping for a special occasion. Lionel Daly informed the missionary teaching the children that she and her charges were invited to a wedding that was taking place at midday. Then he asked the mission's cook to prepare a simple wedding breakfast.

By the time Zachary returned laden with a wedding dress and wild flowers, the atmosphere at the mission was of joyous celebration with no-one, other than himself, remembering the circumstances that had necessitated it.

With a frown, he handed the flowers and a wrapped package to Elizabeth Daly. For a decisive moment, when he had looked across at Gianetta after being told of her uncle's plans for her future, he had been suddenly sure he had been wrong and that she hadn't followed him from Chung King with the intention of ensnaring a husband; that instead she had followed him for reasons he totally sympathised with. She had wanted to explore the wonderful world around her and she had wanted to find blue Moonflowers. And so, rather than allow her to be barbarically boarded in a claustrophobic convent, he had said he would marry her. Now he couldn't help wondering if he hadn't been a mite impulsive.

‘The wedding-dress is red,' he said to Elizabeth, unable to quell the growing suspicion that his proposal had been anticipated all along and that he had been manipulated into making it with Machiavellian artisty. ‘Perhaps you will explain to Miss Hollis that red is the customary colour for brides in China.'

‘She already knows, and she is more than happy to be married in red,' Elizabeth said, intending to be reassuring.

Zachary was anything but reassured. He had made his offer to marry Gianetta in order that she would be free of Sir Arthur and his petty tyranny. She had agreed to the marriage primarily in order that Ben should not be shot. In such circumstances, stoic resignation on her part would have been understandable, perhaps even gratitude. The apparent happy enthusiasm indicated by Elizabeth seemed, however, decidedly out of place.

His frown deepened. He wasn't a man who people took liberties with. He certainly wasn't a man who was easily fooled. Was he being fooled now? More to the point, if he was, did he mind?

Deep in thought, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room and on to the verandah, leaving a slightly disconcerted Elizabeth Daly behind him.

A hundred yards or so away the Kialing surged inexorably southwards. The junk in which Sir Arthur intended sailing to Chung King lay at anchor, a boat-man and a large black dog asleep together near the prow. On a hill on the far bank a small pagoda emerged from a cluster of pine trees. The heat was intense. The silence profound.

Common sense told him that with the doubts he now had, his only sensible course of action was to call the wedding off. With his hands pushed deep in his breeches pockets, he continued to stare out over Elizabeth Daly's carefully tended garden to where a cluster of small boys were playing on the bank of the river.

He didn't want to call it off. He wanted to marry her, God help him. He wanted a future where he no longer travelled alone, but where she travelled at his side. He wanted to sleep with her by the banks of the Kialing and by the banks of a hundred other yet-to-be-visited rivers in a score of other, yet-to-be-visited countries.

From somewhere a little distance away, a piano began to play. After a few bars the pianist stopped, going back to the beginning again, repeating and practising assiduously. The tune was Handel's ‘Wedding March'.

With a slight, wondering shake of his head, still unable to believe what he was about to do, Zachary turned and reentered the mission, intent on finding a room in which he could change into clothes more suitable for a bridegroom.

At twelve-o-clock Gianetta walked across the verandah and down the steps, one hand lightly resting in the crook of her uncle's arm, the other holding a posy of white roses, jasmine and honeysuckle. Her glossy dark hair was swept into a chignon decorated with white rosebuds. Her dress was of crimson silk, the high mandarin-neck emphasising the long, lovely line of her throat, the ankle-length skirt seductively narrow, exquisite gold embroidery edging the short side-splits and hem.

Elizabeth Daly was a step or two behind her, dressed in a becoming gown of dove-grey silk, and carrying a posy of roses and larkspur and gardenias.

At the foot of the steps, Jung-shou and a flower-garlanded Ben were waiting for them. As Sir Arthur led Gianetta the short distance to the mission chapel, girl and pony fell into step behind Elizabeth.

Sir Arthur contained his distaste at leading a procession which had, at its rear, a pony of indiscriminate breed, deeply thankful that no-one of note was there to witness the indignity.

Elizabeth wondered why more European brides, marrying in China, didn't follow Chinese custom and marry in red. Gianetta looked absolutely wonderful; petite, vibrant and exotic. She was glad that when Zachary Cartwright had asked Sir Arthur what his plans were for Gianetta, she had not waited for Sir Arthur to answer but had answered for him. Lionel had afterwards chided her for behaving so improperly, but she wasn't even slightly repentant. If she hadn't spoken out, Sir Arthur would have given a prevaricating answer and Zachary Cartwright would never have known of the future Gianetta was facing. If that had been the case, he might very well not have insisted on marrying her.

Gianetta was aware that she was living through moments she would never ever forget. Beneath the brassy blue bowl of the sky, the small stone-built chapel was a pristine as a child's toy; the only sound in the still, heat-filled air the evocative chords of Handel's ‘Wedding March'. For the hundredth time, she marvelled at the speed with which she had become a bride. Only days ago she had thought Zachary Cartwright the most aggravating and objectionable man she had ever met. Even now she wasn't sure of the exact moment when she had fallen in love with him.

She wondered when he had fallen in love with her. That he had done so she hadn't a shadow of a doubt. His suggesting they marry in order that Ben should not be shot had been a pretext, nothing more. If he had really wanted to, he could have somehow secured Ben's safety without going to such extravagant lengths. He had suggested marrying her, not because of Ben, but because he
wanted
to marry her. Just as she wanted to marry him.

As she neared the open chapel door she could see the children in the pews and edging the aisle, large terra-cotta vases full of roses and irises and camelias. Zachary was standing alone, facing the altar and a grave-faced Lionel Daly. Just for one moment she was aware of a pang; she wished that Charles was acting as Zachary's best-man and that Serena, as well as Elizabeth, were her matron-of-honour.

With butterflies fluttering in her stomach she stepped into the chapel's cool shade. Zachary's head didn't turn, though a score of smaller ones did so, button-black eyes wide with wonder. Jung-shou and Ben remained in the tiny entrance porch and Gianetta walked down the aisle to Handel's timeless music.

Even when she reached his side, Zachary did not turn his head towards her. Her eyes rested for a moment on his strong-boned profile and then she, too, gave Lionel Daly her full attention.

He looked at her questioningly for a moment and then, seeing the happiness shining in her eyes, he said solemnly:

‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in Holy Matrimony …'

Zachary wondered if he would be able to have the marriage annulled later, on the grounds that he was certifiably insane at the time it took place.

‘… which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church …'

Always, all his life, he had been strong-willed and impulsive, living life exactly as he wanted, never conforming to society's many unwritten and boring rules. He had never before, however, acted quite so rashly as he was now doing.

‘… which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought in Cana of Galilee …'

The first time marriage had even fleetingly crossed his mind had been when he had sat opposite Serena Hollis in the Residency dining-room. Then he had envisaged a marriage in which he continued his lone travelling and his wife waited tranquilly for his return; a marriage in which the adventurous life-style he so enjoyed would continue unchanged, the only difference the domestic comfort awaiting him whenever he returned to England in order to make plans for yet another trek, to yet another country.

‘… and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men; and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly or wantonly …'

Lionel Daly's eyes were fixed firmly on Zachary.

‘… to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained …'

Zachary's eyes held Lionel Daly's with difficulty. It was a long time since he had listened to the words of the Marriage Service. There was certainly no mention of marriage being ordained in order to save a Chinese pony from death or a young girl from being boarded in a convent.

‘I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it …'

It seemed to the bride and groom and to the bride's uncle, that Lionel Daly waited far longer for a reply than was politely necessary.

Sir Arthur coughed impatiently. The matron-of-honour gave her husband a steely stare.

Bowing to the inevitable, Lionel Daly proceeded with the service. Giving Zachary his full attention he said gravely,

‘Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?'

This time it was the groom's silence which caused Sir Arthur's heart to palpitate unpleasantly.

Zachary's eyes held Lionel Daly's. He was aware of Gianetta at his side and of the faint perfume emanating from her hair and skin. He could still bring a halt to the proceedings; he could still walk from the mission a bachelor. He took a deep breath. Out of the corner of his eye he was aware that the hands holding the posy of roses and jasmine and honeysuckle were trembling ever so slightly.

‘I will,' he said in dark, rich tones, his voice as steady as the Rock of Gibralter.

From the first pew on the left-hand side of the chapel there came an unmannerly sigh of relief.

‘And wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded husband?' Lionel Daly said gently to Gianetta. ‘To live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?'

‘I will,' Gianetta said, her voice low, husky and absolutely unhesitating.

‘Will you now take the bride by the right hand, with your right hand,' Lionel Daly said to Zachary.

For the first time since Gianetta had entered the chapel, Zachary turned and looked directly at her.

Shock-waves sliced through her. He was so devastatingly handsome that she couldn't imagine how she had ever thought him tedious. As he took her hand in his she gave him a smile so dazzling that Lionel Daly almost forgot where he had got to in the service. Previous brides whose marriages he had conducted had kept their eyes demurely lowered throughout the service, and had certainly not bestowed such frank and sunny smiles upon their husbands-to-be.