by Jane Peart
Next Blythe took out the jewel case containing the Montrose bridal set composed of a magnificent pendant and matching earrings. Opening it, she regarded the glittering rubies and diamonds for a long time. To whom did these belong? Should they belong to Jonathan, to give to Davida? Or should Blythe keep them for Jeff to present to his future bride?
And what about Montclair itself, her former home with Malcolm?
Possession being nine-tenths of the law, Jonathan was established there and, as Malcolm’s eldest son, was the logical one to inherit. If the estate had not passed out of family hands for a matter of years, there would have been no conflict, but when it came back—through Druscilla’s marriage to Randall Bondurant—who, in turn, had bequeathed it to Jonathan, it presented a problem.
Should not the two sons of Malcolm share equally in the inheritance—thousands of acres of prime Virginia land, enough to divide, enough to build another fine home upon, with land to spare?
Jeff, of course, was Blythe’s priority. Was he to be left completely out? If she and Rod had children, they, of course, would inherit the Cameron fortune but what about her firstborn?
Blythe sighed heavily, closed the jewel case, and placed it deep in the trunk she was packing. It would be at least five years before any of this must be decided, she told herself. She would think about it later.
Her immediate relief at this justifiable procrastination was mixed with a troubling reminder of that old adage about “putting off until tomorrow what one should do today,” causing her vague uneasiness.
June 1887
The garden at Cameron Hall was beautiful that afternoon when many friends of the Cameron family gathered for Rod’s wedding to Blythe.
Only a few knew the story of their long love and the years of waiting that had led up to this glorious spring day. For those who did, there was a special poignancy in the ceremony.
Reverend Macabee, who had known Rod since boyhood through his acquaintance with Kate, was one of these few knowledgeable ones and had chosen an appropriate Scripture to read—words that were particularly meaningful to Rod and Blythe.
“Before we join together this man and woman, let us read from the gospel of Mark, the eleventh chapter, twenty-third and fourth verses,” the minister began, “ ‘Verily I say unto you, That whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed, … and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that those things which he saith shall come to pass he shall have whatsoever he saith. Therefore I say unto you, What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that you receive them, and ye shall have them.”
When Rod and Blythe repeated their vows and exchanged rings, Reverend Macabee read another significant passage before closing, speaking directly to the couple: “And from Matthew eighteen, verse nineteen, ‘Again, I say unto you, that if two of you shall agree on earth as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven.'”
Those who caught the meaning of this last reading rejoiced even more than all the others who had come to meet the bride and offer their congratulations to the groom. But none were more pleased and proud than Kate Cameron as she stood greeting the guests who arrived in a steady stream from Mayfield for the reception that followed the wedding. She had longed and prayed for the day when her son would take the love of his life as his bride.
“There never was a more beautiful bride” was the sincere comment of many of the wedding guests.
“I could not agree more!” Kate beamed as she accepted the hugs and pleasant exchanges. Her heart was very full as she glanced at the radiantly happy couple standing with her in the receiving line.
Blythe, indeed, was lovely. At thirty-two, her appealing girlish beauty had been transformed into womanly grace. For her wedding she had chosen a gown of rose-cream silk overlaid with Swiss lace. Its fitted bodice flared in the back into tiers of fluted ruffles ending in a short train. Her coppery hair was arranged in a figure-eight, studded with seed pearls and tiny blushed white rosebuds.
As the people in Rod’s life filed by to wish them well, Blythe tried to conquer her old feelings of being an “outsider.” She knew people were curious about her, knowing she had briefly been married to Malcolm Montrose.
That dark and terrible time for her had also been a difficult period for many of them. At the time of her marriage to Malcolm, most of Mayfield’s residents had been reeling from the crushing defeat of the Confederacy and were trying desperately to keep body and soul together in its desolate aftermath. They had heard rumors about his California bride, but most had been too busy, too tense, too involved in trying to survive, to resume the social life they had known before the war. As a result, the scant year-and-a-half that Blythe had lived in their midst had passed with few of them aware of her presence. By the time the shocking scandal of Malcolm’s loss of Montclair in a card game had circulated, she had disappeared.
Today, though, Blythe was much too happy to dwell on the past. She could only thank a gracious God who had at last “given her the secret desires of her heart.” She felt Rod take her hand and clasp it in his, and she looked at him, her dark eyes bright with joy.
Rod had to tear his gaze away from his bride in order to receive the hearty handshakes and congratulatory remarks of well-wishers.
Slowly the spring sunshine sent long shadows over the garden, and guests were urged inside by their hostess to partake of a lavish buffet, which was followed by dancing in the reopened ballroom of Cameron Hall.
Inside, the rooms glittered with candlelight glowing from all the wall sconces and crystal chandeliers. Huge bouquets of flowers graced the long lace and linen covered tables and bloomed from side tables under mirrors along the walls, doubling the effect of light and color.
Silver punchbowls were set at either end of the buffet table groaning with the weight of platters of Virginia ham, scalloped oysters, lobster salad, a variety of hot breads and rolls, fresh fruit, and an array of desserts, all served on rare Imari china plates.
Providing a soft, melodious background to table conversation was the music of a string quartet. Later, the musicians moved into the ballroom and began playing music for dancing.
Tradition calls for the first dance of the evening to be the bride and groom’s alone. Reunited after so many painful partings, Rod and Blythe circled the floor, lost in each other. Gradually, two by two, the wedding guests paired off and joined them so that soon the newly polished floor was filled with circling couples.
“Do you have any idea how happy I am?” Rod asked Blythe.
She smiled happily. “It’s like some kind of dream. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up any minute!”
“It’s no dream, my darling. It is real. You are here in my arms, and we are dancing at Cameron Hall on our wedding day.”
When the music ended, still holding hands, they joined Kate at the edge of the floor to watch the other dancers.
A lilting waltz began. One couple in particular drew Blythe’s attention—a tall young man with tousled bronze-brown hair and a dainty wasp-waisted young girl with flying dark curls, her ruffled skirt and peach satin sash making her appear like some kind of exotic butterfly as he whirled her about the room.
It was Jeff! Blythe saw with surprise. And the pretty girl in his arms was … why, it was Faith Devlin … Garnet’s daughter!
Blythe drew in her breath. Jeff was seventeen and Faith, fifteen? No, more nearly sixteen. Unconsciously, Blythe glanced over at Garnet and Jeremy Devlin who were also enjoying the colorful spectacle, then back at Jeff and Faith, who were totally absorbed in each other. The girl was laughing at something Jeff had said, and it was at that moment Blythe saw something—a luminous, dazzled look in the girl’s face—that gave away the game.
At that moment Blythe turned in Garnet’s direction only to find that her old rival was staring at her. At once the two mothers were bonded in a unique moment of recognition, understanding, and speculation.
Something indefinable flashed th
rough Blythe’s mind. It came and went quickly, but as her glance returned to the handsome young couple, she had a tantalizing glimpse into the future.
And Blythe knew Garnet had seen it too.
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