Circle of Pearls

by Rosalind Laker

  Again the satin was like a caress and the thickly embroidered elongated centre panel of the bodice, which reached to a point below her waist, was not in the least stiff or uncomfortable. If she had been a cat she would have purred; instead she stood stroking the gathers of the skirt, a smile on her lips. Three women before her had found happiness in this gown: Elizabeth and Katherine and then her own mother, distraught and fey, had known a respite of joy by dressing up in it.

  Someone tapped on the door and then it opened. It was Anne, fully dressed for the day in a gown of shimmering rose satin and a wide-brimmed hat cocked up at the side that set off her still lovely, if thinner and older, face and her same sweet smile. She brought the wedding posy that Julia would carry and exclaimed at the sight of her.

  ‘How exquisite you look! Not even in her youth could Elizabeth have matched you in her gown!’

  ‘I thank you, Mama. You look beautiful yourself.’ They kissed each other.

  Watching was another lady’s maid named Molly, who had come with Anne and was bearing on a tray of damp moss the floral coronet for the bride, both it and the posy having been made up from Sotherleigh blooms by one of the gardeners’ wives, who excelled at the craft. Molly was Julia’s new lady’s maid, it being the first time Julia had had her own personal maid since Phoebe had attended her. Since she was to be away from Sotherleigh most of the time now she could no longer share Sarah with her mother. She suspected Molly was feeling put out at not being able to dress her on this special day, but Sarah would have been hurt not to have had the privilege after so many years with the family. So for today, Molly had dressed Anne instead.

  Sarah picked up the little velvet-lined silver casket that held the bridegroom’s gift and opened it. Julia took out a pair of pearl ear-bobs to fasten them in her lobes and then the necklet, which she held against the base of her throat. Sarah hooked the clasp.

  ‘Now it’s your turn, madam,’ Sarah prompted, seeing Anne was still gazing raptly at the bride.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Anne took the coronet from the moss and raised it high to place it on Julia’s head. Then she stood back admiringly. ‘Now look in the mirror, dearest child.’

  Julia turned and saw reflected her own radiance. She barely recognized herself, feeling transformed by the gown’s magnificence. Every embroidered blossom might have been freshly plucked to lie on the shimmering satin. A tiny diamond here and there simulated dew. The low neckline showed how much of their bosoms Tudor women revealed, but since her breasts had the roundness and fullness she had wished for in early adolescence she saw no reason to cover herself. The trimming of the wonderful drop-pearls was rivalled by Adam’s gift and yet each could have been deliberately made to enhance the other, stirring the memory of her childhood dream with its atmosphere of beauty and happiness.

  The late rosebuds of Sotherleigh, gathered only that morning, were in the same creamy tint as the gown and nestled on the shining chestnut of her hair. When her mother had married it would have been unthinkable to wear the garment as a wedding gown, even if it had belonged to a Queen, for the style would have been considered old-fashioned to the point of dowdiness, no matter how splendid the fabric. But now the gown had come full circle and what would have been regarded as quaint by the previous generation had become charming, and what had been despised was now to be praised.

  A question came to Julia’s lips without any previous thought. ‘Will Adam find me beautiful?’

  There was a chorus of assent from Anne and Sarah, Molly joining in, although as a newcomer she knew her voice should not be heard. Plain, sensible and conscientious about her duties, she intended to prove herself as capable as Sarah. Hearing a tap on the door again, she admitted Mary, who was to attend the bride. Holding her hand was Patience, who came toddling in, her peach-coloured silk gown fluttering with ribbons embroidered with harebells. There was chatter and laughter and praise for one another’s appearance.

  Patience, who had been gazing wide-eyed at the bride’s finery, stretched out a finger to touch the shimmering skirt. Julia stooped down to her. ‘If you wish, this shall be your wedding gown one day.’

  Then Mary reminded Anne it was time to leave. ‘All the guests have gone from the house and we should make a start ahead of Michael and Julia.’

  Anne’s face suddenly clouded anxiously, bewilderment in her eyes, ‘Why isn’t Robert here to give his daughter away?’

  Mary, who had become Anne’s close companion during Julia’s absences, answered her in a simple, reassuring manner. ‘He was here until he rode off to Edgehill.’

  Immediately Anne’s expression cleared. ‘So he was. His Majesty must be needing Robert’s advice on how to deal mercifully with Cromwell, because nothing less important would have taken my husband from Sotherleigh today.’ Completely satisfied, she kissed Julia, who embraced her, and then guided Patience from the room, chatting happily to the child as they went.

  Julia looked gratefully at Mary. ‘You have become a rock to us all at Sotherleigh and especially to Mama.’

  ‘If it lies in my power,’ Mary replied firmly, ‘nothing shall ever hurt Anne again, even if I do have to invent a little tale sometimes to put her poor mind at rest.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘I must join her and Patience now. I’ll be waiting at the Cathedral door.’

  ‘Tell Michael I’ll be down in a moment.’

  Mary nodded and left. Sarah made a final check that the bride’s appearance was perfect. Then she stood aside. ‘The master is waiting for you in the Queen’s Parlour, Miss Julia.’ It pleased Julia to hear Michael referred to by his rightful title. Sotherleigh had been without its rightful master for too long. She was sure he would come home as often as possible and perhaps with time he could persuade Sophie to come with him. Then their son could be introduced to his heritage. She hoped for children herself, an heir for Warrender Hall and a daughter who would play with the doll’s house that Christopher had made and which she still had standing on a chest here in her bedchamber. She glanced across at it. Somewhere in the distances of her heart there was a pang, but as ever, the gown was working its magic. She was conscious only of feeling beautiful and composed, all troubles temporarily subdued.

  She took the posy of Sotherleigh flowers that Sarah handed to her. It was tied with a bow of Anne’s snowdrop ribbon, streamers flowing. ‘Now I will go downstairs.’

  She went slowly down the Grand Staircase. By the portrait of Elizabeth she paused and it seemed to her that those eyes, dark as olives, were looking approvingly at her this day, just as Katherine would have done.

  She found Michael in the Queen’s Parlour, looking more like a French courtier in his rather fanciful Parisian clothes than an English gentleman. He nodded with enthusiasm at her appearance.

  ‘You look very grand, Julia. ‘I’m proud to be your brother today.’

  ‘Only today?’ she retaliated, jokingly.

  ‘No,’ he replied seriously. ‘You’re a true Pallister woman. I can’t think of a greater compliment to pay you.’

  ‘Or one I’d rather receive.’ There was a catch in her voice, ‘I do wish Father could still have been here for this day and Grandmother too.’

  ‘I’m sure they are in spirit,’ he answered her comfortingly. Then he offered her his arm and she rested her fingers on his raised wrist as he led her out of the Queen’s Parlour.

  The door of the entrance hall stood wide to the sunny morning. From the Great Hall where the wedding feast was to be served, the servants there had taken a few minutes off to watch the bride go through. The household staff had been increased for Adam’s coming at his expense, and with the extra hands hired for the festivities a small crowd bowed or bobbed to her, the women sighing over the gown. On the steps outside more servants lined the way down to the waiting coach, which was decked with garlands. She waved to them when she had taken her seat and continued waving down the drive to the groundsmen and gardeners, their wives and children, who had gathered to wish her well on her wedding day. Beyond the gates a
nd down through the village, tenants and other inhabitants waved while all her workers from Briar House had brought their brightest ribbons to flutter in salute as she rode by. Then it was on through the countryside until the coach reached Chichester and drew up at the steps of the Cathedral. Michael helped her to alight, spoke to her encouragingly and then led her through the great west doors.

  The organ, which had been silenced during Cromwell’s rule, thundered forth as they advanced up the aisle of the Norman nave. Faces were turned to them on each side, many having gathered for the joining of two respected families. Julia looked straight ahead to where Adam awaited her with his groomsman, a friend from his Cambridge days, at his side. In keeping with tradition he did not turn to watch her approach, although she kept her gaze on him. He was in cloth of gold, and the sunshine, pouring through the high windows to pattern the floor, set his attire ashimmer as it did hers and struck blue lights in the blackness of his hair. The bishop waited, framed by the medieval stone screen. The choir, fresh-faced boys angelic in their robes and solemn men, filled the ancient stalls. Beyond was the presbytery and the bright gleam of the altar. Then as Michael brought her level with Adam he turned to look at her with smiles and love in his eyes. He reached for her hand and she linked her fingers with his. The organ softened away to silence. The marriage service began.

  Certain moments stood out in her mind afterwards. The gold ring sliding on to her finger. The surprising tenderness of Adam’s kiss in the vestry before they signed the register there and the fragrance of her Sotherleigh posy when Mary, who had held it for her during the service, handed it back to her. Then walking back down the aisle with her fingers on Adam’s wrist while everyone smiled and nodded and the organ made the air tremble. Among the sea of faces only Christopher’s stood out, but she did not allow herself to meet his eyes. This was Adam’s day and in the compromise she had arranged with herself she could not fail him in what was rightfully his. Her golden shoes bore her on her way out into the sunshine with the man she had married.

  It was a light-hearted ride home and from the village onwards there were petals in the path of the coach. Near the gates she and Adam threw showers of silver coins and were cheered and applauded right to the door of Sotherleigh. When they stood next to Michael as he began to greet the long line of guests and they received everybody’s good wishes, Julia wondered how it would be when Faith and Christopher congratulated her. She knew of a bride who, when faced with the man she had wanted to marry, had burst into hysterical tears to the embarrassment of all. That would not occur with her, but it would be a difficult few moments.

  Yet all went well. She and Faith were so pleased to see each other again and then, by lucky chance, her bridegroom happened to put his arm about her waist just as Christopher stood before her. She was reminded again of her obligations and was able to sustain a friendly attitude towards Christopher, as was expected of her.

  Sotherleigh had not seen such feasting and merriment for many years. Wine flowed and dish after dish was borne in to replenish the long table in the Great Hall and the extra tables that had been added. Speeches were made and toasts drunk while musicians played in the gallery, sometimes barely to be heard above the chatter and the laughter. In a meadow that lay the same distance from both Sotherleigh and Warrender half an ox was being roasted, and mutton turned on spits as the tenants of both estates celebrated the marriage, barrels set up to supply them with all the ale they could drink.

  Adam and Julia led their guests into the dancing in an adjoining room. When Michael partnered her they exchanged a glance as the measure took them past the Queen’s Door.

  ‘If only I had known,’ she said on a sigh, referring obliquely to their talk at breakfast.

  ‘Hush,’ he replied with a slight shake of his head. ‘Think no more about it. This is a time for rejoicing, not for regrets.’

  She was not entirely sure about that, but then he did not know of the emotional turmoil she had been through and which was not yet over. Fortunately it was proving easy to enjoy herself. Even with Christopher as she whirled in a country dance, her merriment was spontaneous and her laughter full of delight. He had heard that he was to be appointed the Savilian professor of Astronomy at Oxford, the most tremendous honour to be bestowed on a man as young as he.

  ‘You’re turning upside down the custom of having greybeards in high places,’ she declared teasingly.

  ‘It will be a few months before I take up the appointment and maybe I’ll have turned grey myself by then,’ he joked, holding her hand high as she danced under his arm.

  ‘You’ll always be young, even when you’re old in years,’ she insisted, half seriously and half in jest.

  ‘How can you be sure of that?’ he asked in the same vein.

  ‘In this gown and my golden slippers I can be sure of anything today.’

  Playfully she kissed the tip of her finger and placed it against his mouth. Then the shifting pattern of the dance swept her away as another partner claimed her and he continued the measure with Anne, who skipped light as a feather.

  Time, speeding by, brought the supper hour when every guest found the traditional gift by the places set at the tables. There were elaborately cuffed and scented gauntlets for the men and white kid gloves perfumed with a floral fragrance for the women. Again the feasting was prolonged, noisy singing increasing among those getting drunker than the rest.

  Julia, chatting to those sitting opposite her at the head table, failed to notice when the singers were hushed and an amused and expectant silence began to fall on the jovial company. Every head was turned in her direction. With a start she saw that Susan with Mary and Faith had come to her chair. It was time for her to be escorted upstairs by her ladies. A blush flared into her face and then she recovered herself. As she rose from her chair Adam, sitting beside her, was the first on his feet and the whole assembly followed suit. With dignity she acknowledged the cheers and raised glasses as she began to proceed from the Great Hall. She took in good part the bawdy remarks and lascivious compliments shouted out to her by the more drunken among the gentlemen, for wedding celebrations gave licence to such talk and it would be worse for Adam when his turn came.

  In the bedchamber of the apartment that had been Katherine’s, Julia was suddenly assailed by a rush of panic as Mary began to unlace the back of her gown. Sarah, assisted by Molly, had spread the linen sheet on which Julia stood to prevent the Elizabethan gown from coming in contact with the floor when it fell about her feet. But she was reluctant to disrobe. She had not minded when Susan had removed the coronet of roses, faded now, from her head or when the pearl ear-bobs and the necklet had been replaced in the silver casket held by Faith, but the gown was another matter. It had sustained her throughout the day, given her a light heart when otherwise her earlier melancholy could have stayed unrelentingly with her.

  She crossed her arms and held the gown by the sleeves as the released lacing at the back caused it to slip down from her shoulders. She wondered what these five women in the room would say if she said she would not care how she was ravished in the night if she could keep this gown on her body.

  ‘Step out of your gown now,’ Susan said quite firmly, seeing that she delayed. ‘It will not be long before Adam is escorted here.’

  Julia obeyed and felt the gown slip from her like a farewell caress, leaving her vulnerable and armourless. Sarah picked it up while Molly gathered up the discarded petticoats and stockings, removing them with the sheet after they had both bobbed to the bride and wished her a good night. Faith helped Julia into her nightgown.

  ‘What a pretty garment this is!’ Faith, modest to the extreme, thought such a soft cambric would be too revealing for her own choice, for the lace frill at the scooped neckline fell so low it almost revealed Julia’s nipples, which could be clearly discerned. ‘Did you sew it yourself?’

  ‘No, Mary did,’ Julia answered absently, sitting down before the mirror at her toilet table. ‘I’ve been too busy dealing in ri
bbons.’

  Faith was amazed. How could any girl be too busy to sew her own bridal nightgown? She had not realized quite how seriously Julia was taking her ribbon business. Christopher approved of the venture, admiring any initiative that brought the benefit of honest work to people, and therefore Faith approved it too. She had seen for herself at Bletchingdon how strongly Christopher had been attracted to Julia, but it had been in the sexual way that men were drawn to such beauty of face and figure. Not at all as Christopher loved her. He had looked at her and said, ‘I love you, Faith, beyond all other women.’ She had known then that he spoke from the heart, and that she would always be the one to whom he would turn and in whose arms he would always lie. She wished deeply that this could have been her wedding night too.

  Mary had finished brushing Julia’s hair from its coiffure into the curls that danced down her back. Then it was Susan who saw her into bed and brought the sheet up over her breasts for concealment as she sat up against her pillows. From the distance there came a rising tumult of drunken voices raised in lewd songs and bursts of cheering.

  ‘The bridegroom is on his way,’ Susan announced, glancing about the room to make sure that all was in order. The approaching din grew louder.

  ‘Don’t let all those people in!’ Julia appealed urgently.

  Susan nodded and guided Faith and Mary out into the parlour beyond where they formed a phalanx in front of the bedchamber door. It was to no avail. As the crowd of young men swarmed through into the apartment, all the older ones and the ladies remaining downstairs, the first to reach the three women simply picked them up with battle yells and, ignoring their protests, carried them forward into the bedchamber where they were set down on their feet again. Julia lost sight of them as the prancing, yelling mass spread out around the foot and sides of the bed, every face elated and excited and flushed to all shades of crimson by wine. She did not have to be told that Christopher would not be among them. He had been imbibing, but this leering behaviour would never have been his. In the din nobody could have heard another speak. At least five different ribald songs were in full throat and there were bottles being waved about and passed around.