Louise Allen - Moonlight And Mistletoe

‘Mmm?’

‘Can you move, just a little bit?’

‘Mmm.’ He rolled on to his side, bringing her with him to lie in the crook of his arm. His breath tickled her ear as he nuzzled gently along the soft skin of her temple. ‘You taste of vanilla and cream and woman.’

Hester stretched as best she could, then snuggled back. ‘You taste of cinnamon and dark honey and man.’

‘Sounds like a recipe for syllabub,’ he murmured. ‘My feet are warm. Shall we try that again? I feel that practice is essential and I am sure there must be at least six places on your body I have not kissed yet.’

‘Again?’ Hester opened her eyes and blinked at him in the candlelight. His eyes were heavy with a dark heat that stirred new longings deep inside her. ‘Again, tonight?’

‘And again, and again and again.’ Guy’s dark head dipped below the edge of the bedcovers. ‘So soft…’

Hester woke in the clear light of morning and lay unmoving, listening. But there was no one else breathing in the room, and when she stretched out a questing arm the bed beside her was empty. But the hollow in the mattress was still warm and the pillow, when she rolled over and buried her face in it, smelled of cinnamon and dark honey and Guy.

There was a scratch at the door and Susan came in with a cup of chocolate. The two young women eyed each other uncertainly.

‘About last night…’ they began together.

‘I was going to tell you about Ben Aston,’ Susan blurted out, setting the cup down and going to find Hester’s dressing gown to put round her shoulders. ‘Only I thought he ought to come and tell you himself and he said he was bashful.’

‘Bashful? Aston? Well, if you say so, Susan. Do you love him?’ A vehement nod of the head. ‘And he wants to marry you?’ Another nod. ‘Where will you live?’

‘He has a fine cottage, Miss Hester, and a smallholding with a cow and a pig and a good flock of chickens and a large vegetable garden. And he’s a hard worker.’

‘The vicar vouches for him and his lordship has spoken to him and seems satisfied he is good enough for you, which is what matters to me. Oh, come here and stop looking as though you expected me to ring a peal over you for courting! A fine case of the pot calling the kettle black that would be.’

Emerging pink cheeked from Hester’s embrace, Susan perched on the edge of the bed. Hester could feel herself blushing under the clear regard, but she met her maid’s eyes squarely. She might ache oddly, feel quite light-headed and still be half-persuaded that she was dreaming it all, but she was not going to apologise for loving Guy.

‘Is it all right, Miss Hester? I mean, his lordship pinched my cheek on his way out through the kitchen this morning and said I was to look to my needle, but I didn’t like to ask.’

‘Lord! What time did he leave? Maria and Jethro didn’t see him, did they?’

‘No,’ Susan reassured her. ‘Miss Prudhome’s just getting up and I sent Jethro off down to Ben’s for more eggs. Mr Parrott’s looking after most of the wedding breakfast, but I did think as how I ought to make the cake at least.’

‘Wedding breakfast?’ A hazy memory of Guy saying something about Christmas Day floated into Hester’s mind. ‘He isn’t thinking of marrying me on Christmas Day, is he? That’s tomorrow!’

‘You had better get up.’ Susan paused at the door. ‘We had all of yesterday to plan things and Lady Broome and Miss Prudhome have had that smart modiste from Aylesbury settled in over the way sewing your dress.’

‘But that means he knew I’d say yes even before the party!’ But Susan had vanished and Hester was left staring at the door. She gulped the chocolate, jumped out of bed and then back in again when she realised she was stark naked. By the time Susan came back with the hot water she was out of bed, wrapped in her dressing gown and attempting to think coherently-not that that was helped by finding Guy’s cravat on the floor, tangled with her discarded nightgown. If Guy really believed she could be ready to marry him by tomorrow, he must be made to see reason. It was impossible.

But she came downstairs to find Lady Broome already ensconced in the drawing room with the modiste, Parrott and Jethro in earnest consultation in the kitchen and Annabelle Redland and Maria in the dining room creating a bouquet and decorations for the church. It seemed that she, as bride, had nothing to do other than to approve a gown of cream silk with a spencer of holly green, and submit to endless fittings.

‘Now, I have brought some gold velvet, and I could make that up in a trice, if you would prefer, Miss Lattimer,’ Madame Lefevre offered through a mouthful of pins. ‘Although the green does look charmingly.’

‘I found bonnets to match either choice and kid half-boots,’ Lady Broome added from her position at the side of the chair upon which Hester was standing for the hem to be pinned. Oh, yes, and gloves and a veil. Now if you are sure about the green, I think this twisted floss trim at the hem would be best.’

Hester agreed to the green and waited before the modiste had left the room before jumping down and taking Lady Broome’s hands in hers. ‘Thank you so much! Do you truly not mind me marrying Guy? Only I love him so much-’

‘I am delighted, I could not hope for a better wife for him. I have had my heart in my mouth ever since I read his note where he told me what he was going to do. He had to tell the Buntings, of course, but I only told Mrs Redland and Annabelle this morning because I knew we’d need some help with the flowers.’

‘I keep pinching myself,’ Hester confessed. ‘I know Guy is inclined to take charge and just get his own way, but this leaves me breathless.’ She bit her lip, then decided to risk asking. ‘Lady Broome, would you be my matron of honour?’

‘My dear, of course, and you must call me Georgy. Now, what about bridesmaids?’

Hester cast a glance at the other room where Annabelle could be heard talking nineteen to the dozen. ‘I think I have just the two.’ The mound of greenery on the table was being ruthlessly ordered into wreaths by Maria, who looked up with an anxious smile when she saw Hester. ‘Do you think these will be all right for the pew ends?’

‘Delightful,’ Hester assured her. ‘I came to ask if you, Maria, and you, Annabelle, would be my bridesmaids.’ Maria promptly burst into tears, but Annabelle cast down the bow she was fashioning from gold gauze and hugged Hester.

‘Oh, yes, I would love it above all things! Oh, please don’t cry, Miss Prudhome, we have almost finished here and then we can decide what to wear. Isn’t this wonderful?’

Hester turned back to find Jethro in the hall, Parrott looming behind him. ‘We’ve found another turkey, Miss Hester, and a goose, a fine piece of beef and a pickled salmon.’

Hester looked around the chaos that was the Moon House and smiled. ‘It seems I have a wedding breakfast, bridesmaids, a wedding gown and flowers. Now all I need is my bridegroom.’

Guy stood at the altar rail and tried to recall if he had ever felt quite so nervous in his life before. Beside him Major Neil Carew, the friend who had braved the weather in answer to a plea delivered en route to Doctors’ Commons only two days before, murmured, ‘Stop worrying.’

‘Have you got the ring?’

‘In the same pocket it was in when you asked me ten minutes ago.’

‘Is my cravat straight?’

‘Immaculate.’

‘She’s changed her mind.’

‘All brides are late, it is traditional.’

Guy cast a harassed glance around the congregation. The entire village seemed to have turned out in their festive best, red faces beaming amidst the garlanded pillars and pews where berried holly and trailing ivy were crowned with flickering candles.

Then there was a stir at the west door, the unmistakable tones of his sister organising someone, a squeak of dismay from Miss Prudhome, which made Susan, standing a few pews back next to a well-scrubbed Ben Aston, grin and the organist struck up.

Guy closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them Major Piper was walking steadily down the aisle with a slender figure in cream and green on his arm. Hester.

Her face was hidden by a fine veil, but he would have known her anywhere as she trod towards him with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing. Her hands were still as she held a bouquet of mistletoe and gilded ivy, its stems bound with trailing ribbons of gold gauze. His hands were shaking with awe and love and disbelief that he was this fortunate.

Then she reached his side and he turned to face Mr Bunting as Hester handed her bouquet to his sister and pulled off her green kid gloves to reveal long, white fingers, bare to receive his ring.

‘Dearly beloved,’ the vicar began as the organ sank into silence, and Guy found his hands were quite steady.

‘You may kiss the bride.’

Hester turned to face Guy and caught her breath as he gently raised the edge of her veil and placed it back over her bonnet. He was still white, almost as white as he had been when she had walked down the aisle towards him. Seeing him, she had known with a surge of love and confidence that this was utterly right. That feeling would never leave her now, she knew that.

She gazed up at him, a tender little smile on her lips, and waited while he looked down at her. Then he smiled back and kissed her, gently, possessively and as though he would never stop. Hester stood on tiptoe, put her hand on his shoulder and returned the kiss while the blood sang in her veins. When they finally broke apart, she knew she was blushing, Guy’s eyes were bright and a sentimental sigh swept through the congregation.

She took her bouquet and let Guy lead her down the aisle, past the smiling faces, down to the west door. Parrott was standing there, a cloak over his arm.

‘My lady, I believe you may need this.’ The ancient door swung open and Hester stepped out into a world of dazzling whiteness. The great soft flakes of snow fell gently. Above them the Christmas bells pealed out from a tower almost hidden in the snow, sending joy for the season and joy for this wedding echoing across the village.

Guy bent to take a sprig of mistletoe from her bouquet and fixed it in his hat band. ‘All the better to kiss you with,’ he whispered as, laughing, she turned to throw the bunch. It soared up through the snowflakes and fell neatly into Susan’s reaching hands.

Guy lifted her in his arms and carried her down the churchyard path through the untrodden whiteness to the waiting carriage. Inside he began to tuck a fur wrap over her knees, but Hester threw it back and curled up on his knees, her arms around his neck, her face buried in the warmth of his neck.

‘I do not need a fur to keep me warm,’ she murmured and was rewarded by his long fingers finding her chin, tipping up her face to meet his kiss.

‘I came here to Winterbourne to find the truth about an old love story,’ Guy said as the coach wheeled away from the church and began the short journey back to the Moon House. ‘I never expected to discover what love meant.’

‘And I came to learn to live alone,’ Hester answered, curling an arm around his neck and snuggling close. ‘I never expected to discover the one person I cannot live without.’

His lips closing on hers seemed the only possible reply.

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