The Cavendon Women (39 page)

His sisters had been awed by Dulcie at first, mainly because of her title, he suspected. But with her hilarious use of language, her forthrightness, and her humor she had put them at ease. They had fallen in love with her. And who wouldn't? he wondered. He was so smitten he could hardly see straight.

Glancing around, James couldn't help thinking how truly beautiful this ancient church was today, filled to overflowing with flowers. He could smell the fragrance of roses, instantly reminding him of her, as if he needed any reminders. There were hundreds of candles throughout the church, many of them tapers, and they created a magical feeling.

What pleased James was the effort that had been made to keep the church pleasantly warm. Her father had told him that he was going to make sure that the paraffin stoves were placed everywhere in the church, and along the walls near the pews. Obviously this had been done. The Inghams thought of everything. He had liked Charles and Charlotte immediately. And Charles especially, the night they had had dinner in London, after the earl had said he could marry Dulcie. He had been accepted immediately, as a member of the family, and he felt at ease with them.

Pulling himself away from his thoughts, glancing around again, James realized that the church was now full to overflowing. He looked at his watch. It was ten past three. The bride was late. Where was she? Where was his little minx? His indefatigable temptress?

How hard she had tried to seduce him, lure him into her bed. I'll have to find a way to get my own back for that endless torture, he thought, his mouth suddenly twitching with suppressed laughter. Yes, pure torture it had been. Felix had been right. It had been a struggle to keep his hands off her. But he had, despite her.

Owen touched his arm. “She's arrived,” he whispered.

James straightened, and strained to see her, staring down the center aisle. He spotted Miles, then Felix, and the two little boys stood out in their red jackets. Alicia came to the forefront, and then suddenly there was DeLacy, blocking his view. They were in some kind of huddle at the back of the church, and he hoped nothing had gone wrong.

Swallowing hard, he chastised himself for being so anxious. He reminded himself to stay calm.
She was here.
In this church. That was a relief.

There was a sense of anticipation in the air all of a sudden. People had become aware that Dulcie was about to walk down the aisle, and they were looking around, trying to see her.

The organ music started. It was Wagner's famous wedding march; James recognized the melody of “Here Comes the Bride.” The organist was going all out, filling the church to the rafters with his music.

Unexpectedly, there she was, standing at the top of the nave, her arm through her father's, holding on to him tightly. And very slowly they began their walk to the altar.

Taking a deep breath, James steadied himself. His legs felt so weak he thought they might give way, he was so nervous. His eyes remained on her, taking in her amazing beauty, thinking it was hardly possible that any woman could be this beautiful. But she was. And she was going to be his wife.
His.

She looked like some being from a fairy tale, he decided, and so glamorous it was almost unbearable. She wore a floor-length cape of white brocade, trimmed with white fox. This went around the neckline and down and around the entire hem. It sat on her shoulders, revealed a wedding gown of pure white satin, the skirt covered in tiny crystal beads which gleamed in the candlelight.

His heart missed a beat when he saw the wide diamond choker he had given her for a wedding present, and the matching diamond earrings. They were the chandelier style, and dripped down from her ears. The jewelry appeared to illuminate her face, and he thought she shone like a bright star. My little minx, he thought. And when she finally arrived, and he stepped forward to take her hand from her father, his eyes filled with tears.

James blinked, gave her a half smile, saw that she was crying too.

He wanted to take her in his arms and hold on to her forever. To kiss her again and again. Later, that was later, he reminded himself.

The ceremony started but all he heard was her voice saying, “I do.” And his own, uttering those same words. Thomas and Andrew were coming forward with their cushions, and gold rings went onto their fingers.

They stared at each other. Their eyes were still moist.

They were married.

 

Forty-seven

Church bells pealing. Villagers cheering. Cameras clicking. Confetti falling. That was the scene outside when James left Little Skell Church with Dulcie clinging to his arm, and looking up at him adoringly.

The cheering stopped when the bridal couple came to a standstill in the middle of the path. Everyone fell silent, momentarily struck dumb. They were the most beautiful couple any of them had ever seen.

Dulcie thanked them all for braving the cold weather to see her married. James thanked them for their best wishes, then ordered them back to the warm church hall where they should enjoy their own party, his mellifluous voice ringing out in the cold air, stunning them. It was a thrilling voice, like none they had ever heard before. But then he was England's greatest actor, wasn't he, they said to one another, nodding their heads.

James and Dulcie walked down the path, their happiness shining in their eyes. When they got to the Rolls-Royce, DeLacy and Alicia were already there, and they helped Dulcie into the backseat, lifting up her gown and the long cape, arranging them carefully.

Once the car was driving toward Cavendon Park, James turned to Dulcie, and touched her face lightly with his fingertips. “You're my wife,” he said in a low voice. “Imagine that, my little torturer is now my wife.”

Dulcie's eyes opened wide. She stared back at him. “Torturer,” she repeated. “I would never torture my husband.”

“No, you won't,” he replied more emphatically, and grinned at her. “But you certainly made a good job of it when I was your fianc
é
.”

She squeezed his hand, leaned against him, and whispered, “I know I was a temptress, and I'll never stop being that, you know.”

“I certainly hope not.”

They fell silent after that, and several minutes later the car was pulling up outside Cavendon Hall. Miles and Cecily, who had been put in charge of the wedding weekend, were standing on the front steps waiting for them.

After Hartley had helped Dulcie out of the car, Cecily took the small bouquet of white orchids from her, so that Dulcie could lift the cape and gown as she went up the steps.

Once they were inside the entrance hall, Miles and Cecily hugged them both and congratulated them. Then Miles said, “I want us to get the usual formalities over as quickly as possible.” Glancing at his sister, he turned to James, winked, and said, “Dulcie wants things to move fast, so she can have you all to herself, I suspect.” He threw her a suggestive look, his eyes full of mischief.

“Miles!” Dulcie exclaimed, and found herself actually blushing.

James, amused by her reaction, said, “Well, Miles, I've discovered my wife usually has very good ideas indeed. So come, let's start moving it along. What are we doing first?”

“Here's the drill,” Miles answered. “There are newspaper and magazine photographers waiting for you both in the yellow drawing room. Felix is looking after them for me, since he's used to dealing with the press. They're being served hot tea and coffee, and finger sandwiches. So in about fifteen minutes that room will be your first stop.”

Cecily interjected, “The press already adore you, James, from what Felix says, and I'm sure they'll feel the same way about your wife.”

“How could they not?” James murmured, and blew a kiss to Dulcie, who laughed, her happiness spilling out of her.

Miles took over, and said, “This is the right time to do it, if either of you want to freshen up. Then we'll take you to meet the photographers, have your pictures taken. Half an hour maximum. After that you'll join our families for the traditional family portrait. In the West Wing ballroom.”

Dulcie, looking at Cecily, said, “Do I need to do anything?”

“I don't think so, you look wonderful to me.” As she spoke, Cecily went over to Dulcie and studied her face for a moment. She shook her head. “Perfection, even the lip rouge hasn't smudged. And the little Juliet cap has held your hair in place very nicely.”

“Thank you, Ceci. And thank you for everything you've done for me, and for my beautiful gown and cape.” She leaned forward and kissed Ceci's cheek, and whispered against her hair, “It'll be your turn to get married next, you'll see.”

Cecily smiled, but this suddenly faltered and she turned her head as her eyes filled.

Only Dulcie noticed the unexpected tears. James was busy asking Miles a string of questions about the family portraits.

*   *   *

James was efficient and disciplined, and Dulcie used to traditional family weddings. And with Miles and Cecily in charge, guiding them, things moved along without a hitch, and at great speed. The Inghams and the Woods were patient, and allowed themselves to be moved around, and rearranged, and rearranged again by Miles and Cecily.

*   *   *

James and Dulcie were the last to leave the ballroom in the West Wing. It was mandatory that they had photographs of just the two of them together, and they had stayed behind to do the shots.

Now they walked to the South Wing, where the wedding reception and dinner were being held. The reception was in full swing when they arrived in the pale green sitting room, where they were welcomed by members of their families and guests.

They both took glasses of champagne and moved around together, greeting as many as they could. They then veered to their right, and went into the pink dining room. Earlier in the week this had been revamped by Hanson and Mrs. Thwaites, who had turned it into another sitting room as they had done in the past.

The first person to greet them was Great-Aunt Gwendolyn, who had taken a fancy to James. “Like every other woman,” Dulcie had muttered when her aunt first met him. Great-Aunt Gwendolyn looked quite extraordinary in one of her royal-purple gowns and masses of diamonds. Charlotte came over next, and DeLacy with Travers, and then the bridal couple moved on once again, not wanting to miss anyone.

Dulcie, who had bonded with Ruby weeks ago, gravitated to her when James got caught up with Ralph Shore, an actor friend of long standing. Just after that James was surrounded by some of his other male cronies, and trapped for the moment.

“We make quite a fantastic clan, don't we, Ruby?” Dulcie said, and raised her glass to her sister-in-law. “Twenty-four of us in that photograph and we all looked marvelous.”

Ruby raised her glass and clinked it against Dulcie's. “The Inghams and the Woods, and not a bad match at that.” Ruby gave her a loving smile. No flibbertigibbet, this one. Dulcie was the real thing.

There was a moment's pause, and Ruby drew closer. “I'm so happy James found you, Dulcie. You're good together. He's always needed a woman like you.” Ruby meant every word. She had faith in Dulcie, knew that she was steady, practical, and had her feet on the ground. And there was a smart brain behind that gorgeous face.

“I adore him, Ruby. You must never worry about him. I promise you I'll take great care of your James. And mine.”

Before Ruby could respond, Constance Lambert came to join them, her face full of smiles. She too was wearing purple, but her outfit was a Cecily Swann. It was chic, a long straight taffeta gown, enhanced by a shower of amethyst beads.

“What a wonderful wedding, Dulcie. And so many flowers! Wherever did they come from in this harsh winter? The church and the house look unbelievable.”

“We have several greenhouses at Cavendon, and our head gardener grows orchids. So some of them came from here. The rest are from Harte's in London. They import flowers from the Scilly Isles the year round. They were driven up from London in a Harte's van yesterday.”

“How amazing,” Constance replied, and went on, “And so are you, Dulcie. You look breathtaking. Cecily has done you proud; your wedding dress is out of this world. And so is the cape.”

“That's also very warm,” Dulcie said with a laugh. “I was glad to take the cape off during the photography. And leave it off. Thank you, Constance, I love the dress too. But I asked Ceci to keep the bodice plain; that's why there are only crystals on the satin skirt. I didn't want anything competing with my diamonds from James.”

“What has James done now?” James asked, coming to a stop next to Dulcie. “What are my three favorite women saying about me?”

“Only that we love you to death,” Dulcie answered.

James took hold of her hand, brought her closer to him, somewhat possessively. He said, “Hanson is about to announce dinner, and Daphne thinks we ought to slip out to the hall, disappear so that he can get everyone else to sit down. We'll be the last to go into the blue ballroom, Dulcie. Hanson will come and get us.” He smiled at Constance and his sister. “We're going to slip out now. See you in a few minutes.”

James led Dulcie through the two rooms and into the entrance foyer of the South Wing. “We can wait here,” he murmured, kissing her on the cheek.

She looked at him coquettishly, raised a brow, and said, “If we hurry maybe we can have a quickie. Upstairs in your suite. What about it?”

“Dulcie Ingham, you're incorrigible!” he exclaimed, laughing.

“I'm Dulcie Brentwood now. Your missus, and don't you forget it.”

*   *   *

When they entered the blue ballroom a short while later even Dulcie gasped along with James. It was really a large sitting room, but it had been transformed like the others. Furniture and carpets had disappeared. Eight tables of ten, to seat eighty people, had been arranged around the room; the center had become a dance floor. The room itself was decorated with flowering plants, banks of orchids, roses, and other species. There were white tapering candles everywhere, and little votive lights twinkled on window ledges, the mantel shelf, and the dinner tables.