“The ceremony will be smaller, Anja. Not the big wedding that Timothy and I had. Something simpler would be better, and better on her as well, don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course. Much more willowy, more refined. I see long in the waist. Her bust, it is ample enough. A delicate neckline would be best. Inviting, but not too much.” She lifted her head slightly to examine the girl more closely through her tiny glasses.
Emma frowned.
“Who is the groom?” The woman turned to Rebecca suddenly.
“Roland Vancouver,” Rebecca responded, looking over her cousin and scrutinizing her closely.
“Ah, no!” The dressmaker exclaimed. “The dark one?”
Emma looked at Rebecca and twisted her face.
“He’s the one,” Rebecca smiled.
“Ah, a moody man. He always likes pink.”
“Pink?” Emma wrinkled her nose.
“I have the perfect thing!” The squat woman toddled into the back room and returned with a large bolt of a fine satin, being carried by two very petite young girls. “This!” Anja announced.
“Oh, this is superb!” Rebecca pulled out a length of the fabric and the girls spread it across Emma as if she were a mannequin. She eyed the fabric suspiciously. The shade was lovely, unusual and soft.
“The petal pink, she will be a vision and Mr. Vancouver will be most pleased.”
Emma looked down at the fabric wrapped around her and had to marvel at the lovely color.
Rebecca and the seamstress rattled on about the line of the dress, where the darts ought to be and how long the hemline. Emma soon tired of their prattle and watched the shoppers hurry down the street through the front window. She thought she noticed Roland out on the thoroughfare and pointed him out to Rebecca.
“No, no!” the women gasped.
“The groom cannot see the dress before the wedding. It cannot be!” Anja exclaimed.
Emma stood and waited until the woman had finished measuring and fussing over her and then walked out to find Roland.
She finally spotted him across the street where Mina Caudell was speaking to him energetically.
Emma held back a moment until she saw the man’s face darken. She stood up straight and walked directly towards the two.
“Good day, Miss Caudell,” Emma nodded politely.
“Miss Harris,” Mina looked sidelong at the girl.
“Ah, there you are. I ran into Mina while I was looking for you. Timothy said you were at the dress shop. Are you finished there?” Roland took Emma’s hand protectively and tucked it into his arm.
Mina looked Emma up and down slowly. Roland’s fiancé wore a lavender gown of soft linen, a row of tiny white buttons along the bodice. Her hair was gathered in a loose tumble on the back of her head. Mina thought the girl plain, and detested the fact that she had allowed her face to freckle.
“Perhaps you ought to take your intended shopping for a parasol. They are so necessary to keep one’s complexion fair.” She turned to Roland, touching his arm familiarly.
“I came to town to take Emma to choose her engagement ring, the wedding is coming up very soon and she’ll need a ring.”
“Oh,” Mina scowled.
“Have you heard any news regarding Jude?” Roland watched the woman’s face narrowly. “I know you’re close to him.”
“Not a word.” Mia turned and walked away quickly.
“That took care of that,” Roland remarked.
Rebecca walked up to them with Timothy at her side. “Emma, I finished up with Anja. We’ll come back next week for the fitting.”
“Fine.” Emma twisted her gloves in her hand.
“Ah, the dressmaker!” Timothy chuckled. “Did you ladies enjoy your visit there? I know how much I relish it.”
Rebecca glared at her husband playfully as Emma rolled her eyes.
“We are headed over to the hotel for dinner. Will you be joining us, Roland?” Timothy tugged at the cuffs of his jacket.
“I’d like to take Emma to the jeweler’s first, if you don’t mind.”
“Then we’ll meet you there.” He escorted Rebecca across the street towards the big hotel. She entered the opulent lobby and looked around thoughtfully. On her first visit to the establishment she had been penniless and dressed like a street urchin. Today she was warmly greeted by the staff as she and Timothy were shown to the restaurant’s finest table.
The jeweler sized Emma’s finger and then walked to the back room.
“I don’t need anything nearly as huge as these, Roland, honestly,” she protested gently.
“Let’s see what the man has. Tim told me that Rebecca turned down all the original pieces. Just wait.”
“Becky’s ring is perfect for her, but it’s also very unusual.”
The jeweler returned with three more trays of rings, all with large settings and elaborate designs. Emma shook her head.
“Would this suit your taste, perhaps?” The salesman took a small tray out from under the others. Sitting in the center of the tray was a gold ring with a pale rose oval diamond. The stone was entwined in a single swirl that held the diamond as if it were framed, like a mirror. The ring was elegant in its simplicity and Roland lifted it from the box gently. He held it up to the jeweler’s lamp and then offered it to Emma.
He slipped the band onto her finger and Emma exhaled. The color was so subtle against her warm complexion it was as if the stone adjusted to her personally.
“This is lovely,” she sighed with satisfaction.
“There is a band, here.” The jeweler showed her an interlocking piece that completed the framing of the stone. He found a complimentary band that fit Roland’s fine hand and placed the wedding bands into velvet boxes.
Emma swooned with excitement as the two left the shop and she kissed Roland appreciatively. “It’s perfect.” She couldn’t stop admiring the piece.
“Then you will have something to show off.” He smiled proudly at her excitement.
Chapter Twenty-Two
As Emma walked the path to the Vancouver property, Roland stepped from the barn and crossed the yard towards her. She realized for the first time that he moved with barely a hitch in his step and she nearly cried.
“Look at you!” she gasped as he approached her.
He looked down at his dusty pants and shirt.
“Oh,” he frowned. “I just cleaned out the stables. I guess you don’t want me to touch you.”
“No, of course you can touch me. I meant your leg! You’re walking so well!”
“I have you to thank for that.” He kissed her lightly and Emma was sure he blushed.
“How does it feel?” Without thinking she moved alongside him and reached down to feel his thigh.
“Better all the time.” He cleared his throat.
“Oh,” she gasped. “I don’t want to distract you from your work.”
“Too late,” he smiled.
She kissed his cheek and smoothed his hair lovingly.
“I have something I want to show you. I’ll wash up,” he said, “and we can have lunch.”
He moved the mug of flowers from the table and rolled out a long expanse of paper.
“Blueprints?” Emma asked.
“Yes, house plans.” He set books on the corners to keep the edges flat.
“This is beautiful,” she gasped. “Are you thinking of this for the meadow?” She studied the floor plan carefully and admired a sketch of the finished house.
The drawing was of a Dutch Colonial, with a gambrel roof, like a barn. The entrance was situated on the long side of the house and the sketch depicted dormered windows and a large, enclosed, side porch.
“I had trouble finding one that didn’t have the door on one end.” Roland rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I thought it might be nice facing the meadow. The back of the house would be closer to the road, but it could be modified for a porch most of the way around.” He scratched his head. “Do you like it?”
“You
could build this?”
“Not alone, but yes. We could build this out there.”
“Roland, I love it!” She counted the bedrooms on the plan and tried to imagine the house tucked away off the road. “This is a lot of house,” she remarked.
“Too much?” he looked up at her.
“No,” her voice trailed off. “Three bedrooms sound good. It has a nice pantry, and look,” she grinned. “There’s a balcony on this side over the porch! It’s right off the area where the meadow opens! We could sit outside and enjoy the view. Roland, this is perfect!”
“Really?” he asked excitedly. “I like it very much, but it’s up to you.”
“I love it,” she hugged him enthusiastically. “And I love that the back of the house will face the road and the front the meadow. People can ride around when they come. Who will come anyway?”
“Not planning on entertaining?” He grinned.
“We will, I suppose.” She studied the blueprint. “A garden, here maybe?” She indicated a spot on the plans in the lower corner.
“Let’s build it first,” he laughed. “I was hoping to break ground before we get too much later in the season.”
“Really?” she looked surprised. “You’re just going to start?”
“Why not? You like it right?”
“I do, very much,” she grinned. “Okay, let’s do it!” She kissed his cheek excitedly.
“I expect we’ll have to winter here. Maybe you’ll want to stay at Stavewood through the winter months.” He frowned.
“Why would I do that?”
“There are other people there and there’s that indoor plumbing. It’s liable to get very isolated out here in the winter and it’s a long walk. I’ll be at the mill or at the building site a lot of the time.”
“The day we’re married this will be my home. I’ll stay right here, thank you!” she announced. Roland flashed a broad grin and rolled up the plans as Emma set out lunch.
“What is going to happen with those horses?” Emma asked as she dipped her spoon into the hot soup.
“I’m not sure. I know Mark has his eye on the filly, but until we know where they belong, no one should claim them.”
“That mare didn’t look as if she had been cared for in a long time. Do you think they’re wild?”
“Doubtful. Tim seems to think there’re from the Weintraub property.” He dipped a hefty chunk of bread into the thick broth hungrily.
“Didn’t they take all the horses after the shootings?” Emma asked.
“I thought so, but the fences were in bad shape and the whole place was near collapse. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are horses living out there off the farm. They had some of the finest bred animals around at one time. That filly is of good stock. Tim’s got men going out that way late in the week to see what’s going on out there. Maybe Jude had been living out there. I wouldn’t be surprised.”
They finished their meal in silence and Emma looked across the room at the blueprints, rolled neatly by the door and sighed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The sun rose soft and clear on the morning of the Vancouver wedding. The ceremony was to be small and private. It would be witnessed from a unique perspective by Louisa, Mark, Rebecca, Timothy, Isabel, Roland and Emma, each of them to hold a unique piece of the memory that would be the next wedding at Stavewood.
Louisa sat in the corner of the master bedroom at Stavewood, dropping pink rose petals into the basket thoughtfully. She marveled in the delicacy of them, the scent, the silky feeling, and gentle coloring. She looked up and watched the women fussing over cousin Emma who stood looking into the big mirror.
Emma’s gown was as delicate and silken as the petals, soft and shimmering in the warm glow of the setting sun as it filtered through the lace curtains. Rebecca had twisted her cousin’s hair into gently curled tendrils around Emma’s face and a spray of tiny flowers caught up in the back where her hair tumbled down her slender back. To Louisa she looked like the big dolls in the shop windows that wore the clothes you could buy, but she thought Emma was much more beautiful today. Her face was pretty and happy and she smiled at the girl affectionately. Louisa decided that she loved weddings at Stavewood more than anything else. One day she would grow up and she wanted a wedding dress too, and for everyone to be happy and in love.
Louisa held her mother’s hand as she went down the stairs one at a time and waited for the signal that it was time to begin. When she stepped into the doorway she saw her father, his hands clasped in front of him, smiling at her proudly and it made her feel special and important. Her mother was smiling as well, looking at her and she wanted to be the best flower girl that she could be. Mr. Vancouver nodded to her, and Mark winked, and her mother told her that it was time to begin. Louisa scattered the petals carefully, just the way she had practiced earlier, down the center of the parlor and then took her place next to the groom quietly.
She looked up and watched Roland’s face when he saw Emma coming down the stairs. He looked so handsome in his nice suit, and so big and tall. Mr. Vancouver looked at the bride and smiled nicer than Louisa had ever seen him smile. He even smiled at her with his eyes, she thought.
When they stood together and the magistrate told them what to say, they said the words very carefully. It was good he told them what to say, Louisa thought, because there seemed to be a lot they had to say for a wedding.
When Mr. Vancouver kissed her cousin Emma it was just perfect. He hugged her close to him and everyone was so happy.
There was nothing more perfect than love, Louisa thought.
Mark slipped his jacket on quickly and adjusted his collar, checking his reflection in the tall mirror. He would not enjoy wearing a dress jacket all the time, he thought, but it had its advantages now and again. It had certainly gotten the attention of all of the girls his own age at his folk’s wedding, he admitted to himself.
He pondered how his father, and Mr. Vancouver acted, all of the time, but especially when they were dressed up. His father always had an easy way about him, a natural charm that had made the women take notice as long as Mark could remember. Funny though, he thought, that his father had not changed that about himself after he had met Rebecca. There was no question that Timothy saw only her when it came to a woman, but the ladies still swooned a bit whenever his father nodded their way or he tipped his hat to them. Mark had always measured himself against the man, even though he was not his natural father. Now, Mark began to feel that he didn’t want to be Timothy Elgerson, he could simply be himself. He tugged at his sleeves in the mirror.
Mr. Vancouver was a different man altogether. He had always been stern, even a bit severe, and didn’t turn on any charm, but the ladies would whisper after him as he passed anyway. Now that he was happier, Mark had seen a transformation in him. At the mill he was still very much in charge, but when he talked to a man about his performance he would encourage him and usually shake his hand, sometimes going as far as grasping their arm. Mark saw the respect the workers already had change into something almost reverent and it had them all working even harder than before, and enjoying it more.
The young man studied his reflection and wondered about what kind of a man he wanted to be himself.
He stepped out into the hall just as the flock of women inside hurried out. He watched Rebecca take Loo’s hand as Grandmother Isabel followed them down the hall, leaving Emma standing nervously alone.
Mark really liked the girl very much, and today she looked stunning and interestingly feminine. He liked that she’d wrap her skirt around and tuck it into her waistband to work in the garden, and she wasn’t squeamish over bugs. She was beautiful and very unpretentious at the same time. He was happy to see her now with a blush in her cheeks and a twinkle in her eye. She had changed as much as Roland, he thought. Love made you look different.
He liked Rebecca too, though she was a very different woman. Always ladylike and kind, she was almost always well dressed and proper, but her h
eart was compassionate and she was always sweet. He wondered what the woman in his life would be like when he met her. He knew he’d recognize her right away. He had seen the men around him recognize the woman that was right for them immediately.
“You look very beautiful,” he said to Emma as he passed her and he nodded to her. “Roland’s eyes are going to pop right out of his head!”
She giggled softly. “Now that would be something to see!” she grinned.
Mark stood and watched her come into the room and turned slightly to watch Roland’s face. “That’s the look,” he thought. “That’s the look I’ll have when I see the right girl.”
Rebecca finished Emma’s hair and stepped back to admire her cousin. She choked back tears at the sight of her, healthy and beautiful and completely in love, dressed splendidly and as beautiful as a perfect rosebud on her wedding day.
When Emma entered the room for the ceremony she was glowing and when Roland looked at her his eyes were warm and filled with love. Rebecca could not deny that the man had completely changed since her cousin had come into his life. Once gloomy and self-contained, she now saw a man tall and proud, at ease with himself, and more handsome than she had ever realized.
Now more than ever, she thought of Stavewood as her home and smiled with pride and pleasure that her beloved Emma was to be a bride here. A tear came to her eye.
Timothy Elgerson ran his finger along inside the collar of his dress jacket and stretched his neck as his wife’s cousin entered the room. He looked at her as if noticing her for the first time. This was certainly not the same thin and plain woman he had met only a few months ago. This woman had a stunning figure and her graceful stance gave her the look of a fine piece of art. He had come to genuinely love the girl, open and sincere and wholesome in her approach to everything. He cared for her as if she were a wonderful sister, someone you knew you could always count on to be straight with you. Somehow he hadn’t noticed her before as a woman like this. No wonder Roland had changed so much. This girl was a stunning beauty as well.
South of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 2) Page 11
