Bertrice Small
Page 9
The little clock on the mantel with the painted face chimed half-past seven, and Amanda muttered, “Why on earth did you choose ten o’clock in the morning for your wedding? I do not intend being married until late afternoon.”
“It was Jared’s idea.”
“What kind of a day is it?”
“Clear. Bright blue sky, no clouds, sunny. The bay is full of boats coming from all directions. It reminds me of the hunt breakfasts Papa used to have.”
Amanda got reluctantly out of bed, squealing at the icy floor. “We had better consider getting ready,” she said.
Just then Jemima arrived with a heavily ladened tray. “Don’t tell me you can’t eat, for Lord knows when you’ll get to eat again, especially with those locusts arriving downstairs. ‘Serve a light breakfast,’ says your mama, so Cook does six hams, plenty of eggs, hot breads, coffee, tea, and chocolate. Three of the hams are gone already and not half the guests here yet!” She plunked the tray down on the table. “I’ll have the hot water for your baths brought up in an hour,” and she bustled out.
“I’m starved!” announced Miranda.
“You are?” Amanda was aghast. “You’re really hungry on your wedding morning? You always did have nerves of iron, twin.”
“You can be nervous for me, Mandy, and I’ll eat your portion too!”
“No, you won’t! It’s not my wedding day!” laughed Amanda, and she snatched the napkin from the tray. There were two plates, each filled with fluffy scrambled eggs and thin slices of pink ham. “Ummm, delicious! I’ve never tasted eggs like Cook makes anywhere else,” she said.
“It’s the heavy cream, the farmer’s cheese, and the chives,” answered Miranda calmly, buttering a flaky croissant, and spreading it lavishly with raspberry jam.
Amanda’s mouth fell open. “How on earth did you know that?”
“I asked. Pour me some chocolate, will you, dearest? The secret to the chocolate is the touch of cinnamon.”
“Good Lord!” said Amanda.
Breakfast eaten, the sisters’ porcelain baths were set up and filled with hot water. They had washed their hair the day before, knowing there wouldn’t be time in the morning. Dry again, and in their chamber robes, they waited for their gowns to be brought to them. The clock struck nine-thirty and the door opened to admit Jemima and two maidservants carrying their gowns. Dorothea had wanted Miranda to wear her own wedding gown, but the bride was too tall and too slender. If the gown had been altered to fit Miranda, then Amanda would not be able to wear it the following June, and as it was the gown fit Amanda perfectly. So Madame duPré, a well-known New York City dressmaker, had been brought all the long way from town to do Miranda’s wedding gown, Amanda’s gown as maid of honor, and the trousseau.
Pure white was not Miranda’s color, and so her gown was of a creamy ivory velvet. The dress was in the height of fashion, with short, puffed sleeves edged in lace and a waistline set just below her breasts. The neckline, deep and square, was edged in lace and at the bottom of the gown was a two-inch hem of swansdown. Miranda wore a single strand of perfectly matched pearls around her slender neck.
Miranda’s pale-gold hair was parted in the center and drawn into a chignon at the nape of her neck except for a small tendril of curl on either side of her heart-shaped face. Crowning her was a wreath of small white roses to which was attached a floor-length veil so fine that it looked spun from thistledown. The rose wreath had come from the manor’s small hothouse, and matched her bouquet, which contained green fern as well as the small white roses. The bouquet was tied with silver-gilt ribbons.
The petite Amanda looked like a delicious bonbon in a pale-pink velvet gown that was identical in design to her sister’s. The roses atop her fair head were Chinese red, as were the roses mixed with pine that she carried.
At ten minutes to ten o’clock the twins were ready, and Amanda commanded, “Call Uncle Cornelius, and let us begin the ceremony now.”
“Early?” Miranda looked amused despite the butterflies that had suddenly taken up residence in her stomach. “Are you afraid I’ll cry off, Mandy?”
“No! No! But it’s good luck to begin a marriage while the clock hand sweeps upward, not downward.”
“Then by all means let us begin! Besides, all the local gossips will say how eager I am to wed Jared. I would disappoint them if I did the expected.”
Amanda laughed delightedly. This was the sister she knew and loved. She ran to fetch their uncle, who protested the early start until Amanda mischievously suggested that the bride was debating backing out. Horrified by the possibility of a scandal, the prim and proper Cornelius Van Steen hurried to escort his niece to the altar, grateful as he did so that the Lord had given him only docile daughters.
The wedding ceremony was held in the main parlor of the house. The room, a rectangular corner one, was painted palest yellow and was quite bright and cheerful. It had plaster ceiling moldings in a simple leaf design, and an ornate plaster ceiling centerpiece with an oval decoration with rosettes in high relief.
The long windows, two facing south and three facing east, were draped in yellow and white satin. The polished, wide-board oak floors were covered by a rare sixteenth-century Tabriz carpet embroidered in all sorts of animals. For the wedding the mahogany Queen Anne and Chippendale furniture and the upholstered pieces had been removed from the room. A small altar had been set up before the blazing fireplace, either side of which was decorated in large white willow baskets filled with roses, pine, and holly. From the mantel of the fireplace hung a garland of pine, gilded nuts, and pine cones, and above the fireplace hung an enormous wreath done in the same motif.
The room was crowded now as Amanda, demure and sweet, preceded her sister through the room toward the altar, where Jared and Jonathan and the minister waited. The little twin elicited gasps of envy from the young ladies attending the ceremony, and sighs of regret from the local swains who had already learned that Amanda Dunham’s heart and hand belonged to an English milord. The bright morning sunlight filled the lovely room, making candles unnecessary. The heat from both the fire and the sun coming through the windows combined to make the room quite warm, and the floral decorations opened eagerly to scent the room.
All eyes turned eagerly to the doorway of the drawing room where the enchantingly lovely bride appeared on the arm of her nervous uncle, and floated forward to meet her destiny. Dorothea, Elizabeth, and the elderly Judith sniffed audibly as the bride moved past them and Jared’s sister, Bess, and his sister-in-law, Charity, dabbed daintily at their eyes with showy bits of lawn and lace. Miranda glanced around at the room full of people, marveling that a wedding had brought them across several miles of open water on a December day.
Jared stood quietly watching her come toward him, wondering what was going on in her mind. His throat had tightened at the sight of her, for she was lovelier today than he had ever seen her. There was an elegance about her, a serenity he had not seen before, and it pleased his vanity to believe that he might be partly responsible for this new beauty.
Miranda came out of her reverie as they approached the little altar. How handsome he looked! She saw several girls eying him with envy, and she smiled to herself. He truly was a fine figure of a man. She had never paid a great deal of attention to his clothes, but of course today was different. He was wearing fitted, tight, white knee breeches, and his high black leather boots had been polished till they glistened. She wondered if he used a mixture of champagne and bootblack, as they did in London. His white shirt was the latest fashion in England, with its high collar. His fitted coat was of dark green velvet, bobtailed in back, cut short in front, and decorated with gold buttons. His stock was tied in the style called the Waterfall.
Next to Jared stood Jonathan, whose dress echoed his brother’s. Miranda had discovered that some could hardly tell the two apart, but for her they were as different as day and night.
With a start, Miranda felt her hand transferred to Jared by Uncle Cornelius.
“I require and charge ye both, as ye will answer at the dreadful Day of Judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed,” pronounced the clergyman ominously, and Miranda’s pulse quickened. She had never thought of marriage quite so seriously. All she wanted was Wyndsong, and Papa’s fortune, which would mean Amanda’s happiness with Lord Swynford. Was she doing the right thing in marrying Jared when she didn’t love him? Well, at least she didn’t hate him any longer.
As if he understood her thoughts, the man by her side squeezed her hand reassuringly.
“Jared, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will!” his deep voice echoed loudly and firmly.
“Miranda Charlotte …”
She started, hearing her full name, and for a moment she lost her concentration.
“Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honor and obey him …”
I don’t know! Yes, yes … but not always, not if he’s wrong and I’m right, she thought frantically. Oh God, why do you make it so harsh?
“… so long as ye both shall live?” finished the cleric.
The answer stuck for a moment in her throat as the terrifying thought, This is forever, crossed her mind. Frantically she gazed through fogging eyes at her uncle and her sister, both of whom looked as if they were expecting a volcano to erupt. Her eyes swung up to Jared, and although his lips never moved she later swore that she heard the soft words “Easy, wildcat.” Reason returned.
“I will,” she said softly.
The ceremony continued. A beautiful gold wedding band with tiny diamond-chip stars was placed gently on her finger and, for some reason, she felt tears pricking her eyelids. Finally they were pronounced man and wife, and the beaming clergyman said to Jared, “You may kiss the bride, sir,” and Jared bent and gently kissed her while around them the onlookers cheered.
In a few minutes they were standing at the entry to the parlor, receiving congratulations. Miranda was soon rosy with kisses from the male guests, all of whom insisted on the traditional bride’s kiss for luck. She stood through it all, graciously acknowledging each guest, each tribute, with a personal word for everyone. Jared was very proud of her. Given a challenge, she had responded well. Some of her female acquaintances jealously attempted to bait her into a show of her famous temper, but Miranda handled them like a veteran.
“My goodness, Miranda,” murmured Susannah Terry sweetly, “such a quick courtship! But trust you not to do the conventional thing.”
“Papa wanted it this way,” returned Miranda just as sweetly. Then, “Are you still waiting for Nathaniel Horton to propose, dear? How long has it been since he started courting you? Two years?”
Susannah Terry moved quickly on, and Miranda heard her husband chuckle. “What a venomous tongue you have, Mistress Dunham.”
“La, sir, I attempt only to protect our reputation. Susannah is a notorious gossip.”
“Then let us give her something to gossip about,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck so that she blushed. “It will be said that I lusted after my wife, with the ceremony barely over.”
“Jared,” she pleaded.
“Is this person bothering you, ma’am? He always was a cheeky fellow. Good grief, brother, restrain yourself.”
“The wench drives me wild, Jonathan.”
“Will the two of you stop it? You are both embarrassing me,” Miranda protested. “I shall leave you to mingle with our guests before the buffet is served.” She moved away into the crowd of guests.
“I’ve been watching you with her all week, Jared, and this morning when she had that moment of panic, I’ve never seen you look so stricken. You love her, man, but she doesn’t yet love you. Does she know how you feel?”
“No. On advice of the fair Amanda, I am not to tell her until she admits similar feelings for me. She’s so damned innocent, Jon, I don’t want to frighten her off.”
“You were always too much of a romantic, Jared, but if it were me I’d get her with child as quickly as possible. Nothing settles a woman faster than a baby.”
Jared laughed. “That’s all I need, Jon, a child-wife with a child. No, thank you, I intend spending the next few months courting my bride.”
“The courtship usually comes before the wedding, Jared, not after.”
“Only when you’re dealing with an ordinary girl, and I think we both agree that Miranda is not ordinary. Nor was the situation. Now, brother, as dear as you are to me, I know you’ll excuse me if I join my bride.”
Jon watched his brother affectionately. He had no doubt that given enough time, Jared would win over the prickly Miranda. He himself didn’t know if he’d have that much patience. He far preferred his sweet, even-tempered Charity. Complicated, intelligent women were such a trial. Seeking his wife, he found her with Cornelius Van Steen’s wife, Annettje, comparing recipes for potpourri. Sliding his arm around her comfortable middle, he kissed her cheek, and she flushed with pleasure.
“What on earth is that for, Jon?”
“For being you,” he answered.
“Have you been in the rum punch?”
“Not yet, but an excellent idea! Ladies,” he gallantly offered his arm to them, “allow me to escort you to the buffet.”
The formal dining room at Wyndsong was opposite the main parlor across the center hall of the house. The wide doors were now opened back. The room was powder blue, with white plaster detail. The long windows were draped in a slightly darker blue satin sprigged with a buff color, and the crystal chandelier with its mouthblown hurricane lamps was relatively new, having been a tenth-anniversary gift from Thomas to Dorothea. The mahogany Hepplewhite table and chairs came from the New York shop of Duncan Phyfe. The chair seats were upholstered in blue and buff satin. The New York Hepplewhite sideboard of inlaid mahogany had come from the Maiden Lane Shop of cabinetmaker Elbert Anderson. On either end of the sideboard were fine mahogany knifeboxes with silver escutcheons.
A large buffet had been set up on the table in the center of the room. Covered in a white linen cloth, the table held a centerpiece of pine, holly, and red and white roses arranged in an enormous pewter bowl. It was flanked on either side by elegant silver candelabra burning bayberry-scented white beeswax tapers.
On the table were bowls of oysters, mussels, and clams, small lobsters and crab claws done with mustard sauce, as well as broiled in herb butter. There was even a platter of cold crabmeat, accompanied by a pewter dish of mayonnaise. There were several varieties of cod, flounder, and bluefish, Wyndsong waters abounding with fish.
Four large hams had been baked in brown sugar and all were studded with precious, difficult-to-obtain cloves. There was an entire side of beef and a side of venison, as well as Miranda’s favorite, stuffed turkey. There were two geese, both roasted to a crisp brown and stuffed with wild rice.
The vegetables alone looked like a painting of the horn of plenty. Besides large white china bowls of yellow squash topped with melting butter, there were green beans with almonds, whole cauliflowers, onions boiled in milk and butter and black pepper, and succotash. Dorothea’s recipe for pumpkin squash was the one the cook had followed, as it was a family favorite.
There were five red-and-white-striped china bowls of macaroni and grated sharp Cheddar cheese, another of Miranda’s best-loved dishes, as well as potatoes in Hollandaise, mashed potatoes with butter, and potato puffs, Cook’s jealously guarded secret.
Even though it was winter, there were large china serving platters of lettuce and cucumbers in a delicately flavored piquant white sauce, made
with just enough vinegar to wake the palate.
The wedding cake—a light fruit cake covered in sparkling white frosting—commanded the most attention. On the sideboard surrounding the cake were pineapple creams, apricot fritters, three kinds of cheesecake, and caramel custard. Guests exclaimed over the spongy Genovese cakes filled with coffee cream, and despite the recent appearance of mince and pumpkin pies on everyone’s Thanksgiving tables, these disappeared as quickly as did the assortment of lemon and raspberry tarts, the soufflés, and the tiny pots au chocolat, which Miranda had always loved and which, though not officially part of the menu, Cook had decided were just what Miranda needed on this day of great changes.
Even these guests, all of whom dined well at home, were delighted by the variety of food and the elegant display of every dish. Dorothea, a little more relaxed now, watched them with amusement and affection, finally taking a plate for herself and heaping it with turkey, pumpkin soufflé, ham, and rather more salad than she usually ate. It had been a long week, and she wanted a taste of spring. Somehow, cucumbers always reminded Dorothea of spring.
Liquid refreshments were equally lavish, which pleased the gentlemen especially. There were several wines, both red and white, beer, cider, applejack, rum punch, tea, and coffee.
Small tables had been set up in the hall, the drawing room, the library, and the family parlor. The guests, clutching well-filled plates, were fast finding seats. The bride and groom were seated at a trestle table made of oak with a pine top that had been set before the fireplace in the library. The table, made in the mid-1600s, was one of the few pieces that remained from the original manor house. Also seated at the table were Jonathan Dunham and his wife, John and Elizabeth Dunham, Bess Dunham Cabot and her husband, Henry, Amanda, Dorothea, Judith, Annettje and Cornelius Van Steen.