"He is tall and handsome."
"Of course."
"All his life he wanted to be a doctor. There was some opposition in the family because the Matelands had never had a doctor in the family before."
"Certainly not. Too aristocratic, I am sure, to be sullied by a profession."
"Oh, do stop teasing, Anabel. You know nothing about these people."
"Fortunately your knowledge is so great that it positively drips out of you. How old is Joel?"
"He is not so very young."
"I thought he was the younger brother."
"He is. David is about two years older. He was married for ten years before Esmond was born. Joel was married before but had no children. Like all big families, they wanted an heir."
"What happened to Joel's wife?"
"She died."
"A widower, eh?"
"He is the most interesting man I ever met."
"I gathered that."
"My mother liked him very much. My father had met them somewhere ... I forget where. That was why we visited."
"It was obviously a successful visit."
"Oh yes," said Jessamy fervently.
Very significant, I thought. A widower. Perhaps the best sort of husband for Jessamy. And Mateland Castle! There was a good possibility of Aunt Amy Jane's approving of that.
It seemed that she did, for after about a month there was another visit to Mateland Castle. It was supposed to be for a few days but it was extended and Jessamy and her parents were away for two weeks.
When they returned a radiant Jessamy came to see me.
I guessed what her news was before she told me. She was engaged to be married to Joel Mateland. Aunt Amy Jane had won the campaign almost before it started. No coming-out balls for Jessamy—and I realized with a pang that that meant none for me either. I would have shared Jessamy's but I could not expect to have one specially for myself.
I shrugged my shoulders.
Jessamy, in the sweetness of her nature, had time to think of me.
"When I am at Mateland Castle you shall come and stay," she told me.
I could see plans forming in her limpid eyes. Jessamy was always one who liked to share good fortune. She was going to have the best husband in the world and it would be her pleasure to find the second best for me.
I kissed her. I wished her all the happiness in the world.
"It's what you deserve, sweet Jessamy," I said, seriously for once.
The Matelands had not come to Seton Manor. Joel was busy working, Jessamy told me. She and her family could always go to Mateland.
The wedding, however, would be held at Seton. Aunt Amy Jane threw herself into the bustle of preparation, for this was going to be the occasion to outdo all others. No expense must be spared. The very desirable marriage of the only daughter should be given all the honor and dignity it deserved.
One afternoon soon after the announcement of the betrothal she came to the vicarage in her carriage. It was early May— neither foot warmer and muff nor parasol weather. The Seton footman helped her out of the carriage and she came straight into the house. Janet took her into our rather shabby sitting room where my father received his parishioners when they came to pour out their troubles to him.
I was summoned too.
Aunt Amy Jane was seated in the only comfortable armchair and even in this the springs were sagging. They were apt to make pinging noises of protest when anyone sat down and I wondered how they would bear my aunt's not inconsiderable weight. She gave her usual disdainful look about our room, but she was not really thinking of it. She was in very high spirits and clearly the marriage of her daughter was going to be one of the great events of her life, rivaling only the triumph of her own marriage to Sir Timothy on which her opulent fortunes were founded.
"As you know," she announced, "Jessamy is to be married."
I could not resist murmuring: "We had heard of it."
Aunt Amy Jane chose to ignore my impertinence and went on: "The wedding will be as great an occasion as we can make it."
She smiled smugly. That meant very great with the might of Uncle Timothy's purse strings behind it, and it was well known who had control of them.
"Timothy and I are determined that it shall be a day neither Jessamy nor we shall forget. There is so much to do between now and the wedding day. How they are going to get her dress done in time, I don't know. But talking of the actual ceremony ... Jessamy has made a request. She wants you to be her bridesmaid, Anabel."
"Oh, how kind of Jessamy. She always thinks of others."
"Jessamy has been very properly brought up." A stern glance at my father, who quite missed the shaft and was intent on retrieving his spectacles, which had receded even farther than usual. "The fact is you are to be a bridesmaid. Now we shall have to have you suitably clad. I am arranging for Sally Summers to come and make a dress for you."
"Perhaps we could find something ..." began my father.
"No, James. The dress is not to be found. It is to be made. It must be absolutely right for the occasion. I thought of buttercup yellow."
I did not like buttercup yellow. It was not one of the colors which became me most and I had a notion that Aunt Amy Jane might have chosen it for that reason.
"Jessamy wanted shell pink or azure blue," she went on.
Dear Jessamy! She knew that of all colors those suited me best.
"I suppose she, as the bride, will be the arbiter on this occasion," I said.
My aunt did not reply to that. Instead she said: "Sally will be coming over with the material in a few days' time. There must be no delay. I have told her that she will stay here and make the dress. It should only take a day or so. We shall have a houseful of guests for the wedding, so there will be no room for you to stay at the Manor. You will be officiating of course, James, and Anabel can join the party at the church and you will come to the Manor for the celebrations. The bride and bridegroom are going to Florence for the honeymoon. You can return to the vicarage after they have left. I will send the carriage back for you."
"Oh, Aunt Amy Jane, what a wonderful manager you are!" I cried. "Everything planned to the last detail. I am sure it will all go off beautifully."
She gave me a look of rare approval; and when she left I thought how different life was going to be with Jessamy married, how I had taken her for granted and how fond I really was of her.
I should go and see her, though, in this wonderful enchanted castle of hers and I should meet the husband who had been able to work such a miracle in her.
Two days later the material arrived for my dress. It was soft azure-blue silk chiffon.
Dear Jessamy! I thought.
It was a lovely morning. June was the month to marry. Tomorrow would be Jessamy's wedding day.
There would be bustle and excitement at the Manor with all the guests arriving.
"We have a houseful," Aunt Amy Jane declared proudly. "The Matelands will be there in force and naturally all the bridegroom's family are staying in the house."
I had offered to help decorate the church and early this morning roses had come over from the Seton gardens and were now standing in buckets of water in the church porch. Sally Summers was an artistic arranger of flowers as well as a dressmaker and had been assigned to deal with them by my indomitable aunt. Poor Sally, her eyes looked as though they were going to disappear into her head; she had been so overworked, hurried and harried over the last two weeks.
"I'll get a start on it," I told her. "You can come in later and adjust them all. But it will be a help to have them in their various containers."
Sally was grateful and consequently on that June morning, the day before Jessamy's wedding, I made my way to the church immediately after breakfast and set to work on the decorations.
It was a lovely morning, and I felt exhilarated. Tomorrow was the great day. Who would have believed it possible that Jessamy would be married so soon? Shy little Jessamy had found the man of her choice, whose home was a castle—albeit shared by David, Emerald, little Esmond and Grandfather Egmont. And the bridegroom was a doctor. Such a comforting profession. One never need suffer from mysterious ailments, for he would always know what was wrong and to whom should he give his care more assiduously than to his dear wife? Oh yes, Jessamy was a queen of romance. I would never have believed it possible. In fact, I had always thought that, in spite of my overwhelming handicap, I should be the first to marry.
Well, Fate—or Aunt Amy Jane, which I had begun to believe was the same thing—had decided otherwise. And here I was confronted by bucketfuls of beautifully scented flowers which filled the church porch with their exquisite perfume and I was to start on this task—for which I was not really fully qualified; but I should be some help to poor tired overworked Sally.
I carried the buckets into the church and found the containers in the vestry. Then I set about the task. I sorted the colors and carried in more water from the pump and began on the flowers.
I had been working for an hour, cautiously picking up the prickly stems and arranging the flowers to the best of my ability.
They were so beautiful—only the very best blooms would suit Aunt Amy Jane, and I could imagine how the gardeners had been harassed ever since she knew there was to be a wedding. I decided that the glorious pink roses which had an even more exquisite scent than the others should go on the altar. There was a special pot which was used for this. It was metal and rather heavy. I made the mistake of filling it with water and arranging the flowers and then carrying it up the three carpeted steps to the altar. I should, of course, have taken it to the altar and filled it there. It was a supreme effort on my part and I was not going to dismantle it. I was sure I could never achieve that artistry again. So I picked it up and started up the altar steps.
I am not sure now what happened. Whether I heard the church door creak and open, and turned and so fell, or whether I stumbled and fell and then the door opened. I turned to look towards the door and saw a man standing there as I felt the pot slipping out of my hands. The roses were falling out, stabbing my hands, and I made a frantic effort to save the pot, which failed. I went sprawling up the three steps. It all happened in less than a second. I was lying there, the overall I had put over my dress was soaked with water, the flowers were scattered round me, and the pot had gone rolling down the stairs—bump, bump, bump—scattering Seton prize blooms as it went.
A man was looking down at me.
"What happened? I'm afraid I startled you," I heard him say.
I have often heard of those dramatic moments when one meets people who make a devastating effect from the first. I had never believed it. One had to get to know people before one could judge whether one was going to like them. That was what I had always believed. Deep feeling has to grow. But something happened to me on those altar steps. It meant that I was fast approaching the end of my carefree girlhood when, try as I might to be serious, anything seemed to turn into a joke. Something was about to happen which was no joke at all.
I noticed that he was tall, that he had dark hair with rather heavily marked brows. It was a somewhat inscrutable face but it was one which I wanted to go on looking at.
It could only have been some seconds that I lay there looking up at him, but it seemed to go on for a long time. Then he was kneeling down beside me, helping me up.
"I've spilled the water over the carpet," I said.
"Yes, you have. Let's make sure you're all right, though. Come on. Stand up."
I did so.
"All right?" he asked.
"My foot hurts a bit."
He knelt and touched my ankle. He had a firm yet delicate touch.
"Press down," he said. "Now ... put your weight on it. All right?"
"All right," I said.
"No bones broken. What about your wrist? You fell on that, I think."
I looked down at my hands. There was blood on them.
"Only a prick or two from the thorns," I said, taking my hand and working it about.
He smiled at me and for the first time I remembered how untidy I must be looking in the overall, which was too big for me, and my hair escaping from its pins.
"Thank you," I said.
"Shall we pick this up?" he asked.
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