Andrea Kane

by Music Box

  The glow reappeared on Gaby’s face. “All right.”

  Twenty minutes later Gaby stepped out of her bath and sailed into her room.

  “I guess you’re ready to get dressed?” Marion asked with a twinkle.

  “Yes.” Gaby studied the pale yellow frock on her bed with a frown. “Marion, do you think I made the right choice? I wanted to select a color as close to white as possible. My beige gowns are drab; this is the only one that has full skirts and a bit of trim about the sleeves. Do you think it will do?”

  “I don’t know.” Marion helped Gaby into her underclothes, studying the yellow gown with apparent concentration. “Actually, now that you mention it, the gown is all wrong for the occasion. It looks more like a party frock than a wedding gown. It’s bright and cheerful, but not very devout-looking. After all, you are getting married, even if it is in a plain old chapel.”

  Gaby felt as if she’d been punched. “Then what shall I do?” she asked. “I have nothing more suitable.”

  “I’ll send for your aunt,” Marion suggested. “Maybe she’ll have an idea.”

  She disappeared, only to reappear minutes later with Hermione, who was clad in a dressing robe.

  “Gaby? What is it, darling?” Hermione went straight to her niece. “Marion says you’re upset with your dress. Why?”

  “I’m being silly,” Gaby replied, straightening her shoulders. “Bryce won’t care what I’m wearing. It’s just that …”

  “The dress is all wrong for today,” Marion supplied. “It’s too … well, yellow; too ordinary. I don’t blame Miss Gaby for her feelings.”

  Hermione whirled about, giving Marion an utterly astounded look. “It’s not like you to be cruel, Marion. You know we didn’t have enough time to create—”

  “No, you didn’t, but we did.”

  A puzzled expression. “You did … what?”

  “Have enough time.” With that, Marion smiled, walking over and opening the bedchamber door. “I hope you like it, Miss Gaby,” she said fervently. Then: “Come in.”

  Like a general leading her troops to battle, Mrs. Gordon marched in, followed by Ruth, Lily, and Jane, each of whom clutched a different part of the most exquisite shimmering white creation Gaby had ever seen—trimmed with lace, strewn with pearls, its billowing skirts a rich, vibrant satin.

  It was every bride’s dream come true.

  On command they halted, waiting, anticipation swelling as they watched Gaby’s face.

  “Oh, my,” she breathed, unable to absorb the enormity of what was happening.

  “Do you like it?” Marion demanded.

  Gaby couldn’t speak.

  “It’s a wedding dress, Miss Gaby,” Lily supplied helpfully. “We made it. For you. Don’t worry about it being the wrong size. We borrowed one of your dresses so we could measure. We did it really fast, so we could return your dress before you noticed it was gone. We were afraid we wouldn’t be able to finish it in time, but Mrs. Gordon sewed the last stitch at half after four this morning—just before you woke up.” Lily’s small brow furrowed as she studied Gaby’s overwhelmed expression, the tears gliding down her cheeks. “Don’t you like it?” she asked anxiously.

  Slowly Gaby turned toward Hermione, who shook her head, her own eyes damp. “I knew nothing about this,” she managed.

  “We didn’t want you to,” Mrs. Gordon reported crisply. “Not you or Chaunce. The two of you had enough on your mind. Besides, this is a gift from us to Miss Gaby.” She glared at Gaby, but an iota of uncertainty flickered through her caustic veneer. “You do like it, of course.”

  “It’s the most breathtaking gown I’ve ever seen in my life,” Gaby whispered, somehow finding her voice. “It’s …” She walked forward, gingerly touching the satin bodice. “I never imagined … How did you … When did you …” She sucked in her breath. “Thank you all.” She hugged each of them, alternately laughing and crying as the full impact of what they’d done sank in. “You must have spent days stitching, sewing, trimming … My God, you must have gone without sleep.” Reverently Gaby stroked the lace, ran her fingertips over each translucent pearl. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m more grateful than you’ll ever know. It’s the most beautiful, loving, meaningful gift I’ve ever received in my life, with the exception of your love.”

  “That goes with it—and so does this,” Ruth announced, stepping forward to hand Gaby a frothy lace veil, its coronet of orange blossoms crowning the sweeping, diaphanous cascade of white that draped gracefully to the floor.

  “Oh …” Gaby cradled the veil in her arms, gazed at it in wonder. “It’s as if a vivid fragment of my dreams just came to life.”

  “That’s what a wedding day is all about,” Marion replied, her round face beaming with joy.

  “Everyone helped,” Jane chirped. “Even the men. Reaney and Bowrick met the delivery men at the gates so you wouldn’t see the materials arrive.” She paused, reconsidering her words. “Well, Reaney did have to guide Bowrick across the grounds—but just a little. And Bowrick carried all the heavy parcels, because of Reaney’s gout. So it all evened out.” A giggle. “And every one of us learned how to keep a secret. We did a good job, didn’t we, Marion?”

  “Not a good job—a great job,” Marion corrected with a grin. “Without you children, none of this would have been possible. It was all of you—and your fine eavesdropping—that let us know this wedding was about to take place.” She looped her arms about Jane’s and Lily’s shoulders. “We each did our part. We worked together. But that’s what being a family is all about.”

  Gaby looked from her gown and veil to the beloved people who’d crafted them. “I have more blessings than any bride could pray for. I … thank you.”

  “Enough chatter,” Marion interrupted, clapping her hands. “The gown will do you no good draped across your arms. It’s time to turn you into the fairy princess you truly are. Let’s go, ladies.” She gave Gaby a quick wink. “Besides, I think there might still be a surprise or two in store for you.”

  Thirty minutes later Gaby entered the chapel on Chaunce’s arm, nearly gasping aloud when she saw the room’s grand transformation. Wildflowers decorated the aisle, the arches, and the iron fixtures, enhancing the high vaulted ceilings and stained-glass panes, transforming the modest-sized chapel into a miniature version of a grand and splendid cathedral.

  Near the altar stood Vicar Kent, a broad smile creasing his elderly face as he watched Gaby begin her slow march down the aisle.

  An awed murmur escaped the lips of the staff as they caught their first glimpse of the bride, a myriad of emotions crossing their faces—emotions that flashed by Gaby in rapid succession as she passed, but etched themselves on her heart nonetheless: pride, elation, joyous tears. At her feet, rose petals strewn by Jane and Lily heralded her approach, beckoning Gaby and Chaunce through the throng of beloved well-wishers. In the front row sat Aunt Hermione, her hands clasped tightly together, her blue eyes soft with the love and serenity derived from knowing how right this union was, her back very straight and sure as she met Gaby’s exhilarated smile.

  Gaby’s gaze shifted, found Thane, who gave her an encouraging wink, then moved on to the magnificently handsome man beside him, the man who was about to become her husband.

  Bryce’s black frock coat hugged his broad shoulders, his light waistcoat and gray-striped trousers an elegant tribute to the importance of the day. His forest-green eyes darkened as he beheld his bride, drinking her in with pride, admiration, and an emotion too profound to describe, too vast to contain.

  Their gazes locked, and Bryce smiled—a slow, enveloping smile that wrapped itself around Gaby’s heart, drew her closer, carrying her toward him and their future.

  Chaunce gave her to Bryce with an aura of certainty, stepping aside with a flourish to allow Gaby to begin her new life.

  She took Bryce’s proffered arm, and together they stepped forward to speak their vows.

  Perhaps these very words
had been spoken by countless people through countless ages; yet in Gaby’s mind they were being uttered for the first time— beautiful, meaningful words that would forever bind her to the man she loved, and him to her.

  The ring Bryce slid on her finger was exquisite, a rich gold circle as solid and pure as the love behind it, as meaningful as the brief, profound brush of her lips with his.

  “I love you, Wonderland,” he said fervently, beginning to raise his head. Abruptly he paused and, heedless of everything but his bride, threw propriety to the wind. “For you, Mrs. Lyndley,” he murmured for Gaby’s ears alone. “The impulsive husband you coaxed forth.”

  With that, he tipped up her face and buried his lips in hers for a heated, far-too-long-to-be-proper kiss. An appreciative chuckle reverberated through the chapel, and Gaby had to clutch her husband’s arms for support when at last he eased reluctantly away. “Acceptable?” he inquired, his eyes twinkling.

  “Commendable,” she assured him breathlessly.

  Capturing Gaby’s arm, Bryce led his new wife through the chapel.

  The cheers that accompanied them were far too raucous to be deemed appropriate, but no one cared. Not even the vicar, who gazed from the rose petals that covered his feet to the children dancing in the aisles—even Peter, who’d completely forgotten his limp—to the rest of the embracing servants who composed Hermione’s family, all of whom were clearly impaired in ways that mattered not a whit, and blessed in ways that made them whole. Vicar Kent reverently bowed his head, giving thanks to the Lord for allowing him to share this day.

  As if in reply, the organ commenced playing, emitting the first magnificent tones of the musical celebration chosen by the staff to be the glorious and fitting culmination to Gaby’s wedding ceremony:

  “Ode to Joy,” the finale of Beethoven’s 9th symphony, echoed through the walls.

  The staff filed past the bride and groom, bidding them a series of heartfelt but fleeting congratulations before making a hasty retreat in the direction of the yellow salon.

  “Why is everyone in such a hurry?” Gaby asked, still dabbing at her eyes in a futile attempt to stem the emotional tears that had been flowing steadily since she’d glimpsed the chapel. “I have so much I need to say, so much gratitude to express.”

  “I suspect you’ll have your chance,” Hermione observed thoughtfully, looking after their retreating guests. She turned to Bryce and Gaby, took their hands in hers. “I’ll echo the very words you just used: I have so much I need to say, so much gratitude to express.” Her voice broke, and she swallowed, determined to retain her composure. “Every prayer in my heart has been answered,” she stated simply. Swiftly she glanced about, ensuring that only Chaunce and Thane remained.

  Hermione continued, “My beloved niece and my deeply cherished nephew, I’ve known for years you belonged together. Thank God He shared my sentiments.” She pressed a trembling kiss, first on Gaby’s cheek, then on Bryce’s. “Love and nurture each other. Share not only your strengths but your weaknesses as well, for that will make you all the stronger. And most of all, be happy—now and for the duration of time.”

  “You’ll be a part of that happiness, Aunt Hermione,” Gaby whispered. “Always. I absolutely insist.”

  A spark lit Hermione’s eyes. “But of course. Why, after today I agree wholeheartedly with Thane’s assessment: I shall indeed live forever. Who else would look after the three of you?” A sidelong glance at Thane. “Who would find the right mate for my other handsome—and as yet unclaimed—nephew? Who would properly advise all your children in matters of love?” Hermione shot Thane an angelic look, smiling as he groaned aloud. “You’re safe for the time being,” she assured him, linking her arm through Chaunce’s. “At the present, I’m preoccupied with the current bride and groom—who, by the way, are expected in the yellow salon for their wedding feast. My guess is that the staff is eagerly awaiting their arrival. Come.”

  Bryce wrapped an arm about Gaby’s waist, chuckling as he saw Thane roll his eyes to the heavens. “Hermione’s intervention could be a blessing in disguise,” he suggested. Sobering, he gazed down at his new wife, an expression of profound emotion crossing his face. “It’s made me the happiest man alive.”

  Gaby’s throat tightened, and she pressed closer to Bryce’s side.

  “I see your point,” Thane conceded quietly. He then tactfully walked ahead with Hermione and Chaunce, leaving Gaby and Bryce for a moment of privacy.

  “I love you,” Gaby breathed.

  Bryce tucked aside her veil, cupped the nape of her neck and drew her against him, covering her mouth in a deep, heated kiss of binding love and absolute possession. “And I love you—so much it defies words.”

  “We’d better join the others in the yellow salon,” Gaby murmured, making no move to free herself from her husband’s embrace.

  “Yes, we’d better. Or we won’t go at all.” Bryce kissed his bride again, then—with the greatest of efforts—released her. “But soon, Wonderland. Soon I’ll have you to myself.”

  “I can hardly wait.” Abruptly, Bryce’s comment to Thane registered in Gaby’s wondrously dazed mind. “So you do think Aunt Hermione had something to do with our meeting, with the extensive amount of time we spent together.”

  A broad grin. “Did you doubt it?”

  “She denies it.”

  “Of course she does.”

  Joyously, Gaby smiled up at her husband. “No. I don’t doubt it. She arranged this every step of the way—with Chaunce’s help, naturally.”

  “A brilliant woman.” Bryce’s lightheartedness vanished, and he brought Gaby’s fingertips to his lips, kissed them with solemn awe. “Once again Hermione Nevon has saved my life.”

  With that, he guided Gaby through the chapel doors and toward the yellow salon—and their future.

  The room surpassed anything Gaby had even remotely anticipated.

  “Oh, my,” she gasped, clutching Bryce’s sleeve as they stood in the doorway, gaping at the magnificent banquet laid out before them.

  “This is inconceivable,” Bryce muttered thickly, as moved as Gaby by what their family had done—a family who now huddled together in one corner of the room, beaming, watching Gaby and Bryce’s reaction and reveling in the success of their plan.

  The salon had been totally transformed, its mahogany tables draped with elegant cloths, covered with tray after tray of the most elaborate and mouthwatering dishes imaginable. Potted lobster and salmon, turkey in jelly, caramel baskets filled with bonbons and other sweets, fruits of all kinds, pastry sandwiches and orange-flower cakes—and in the center of the head table, a magnificent wedding cake, decorated with cupids and gold charms. It was like being in the palace of the Queen herself.

  In the corner, three musicians played, lilting strains of Beethoven’s Minuet in G filling the room with warmth and festivity.

  The glass doors along the far wall had been thrown wide, beckoning everyone to the courtyard and the gardens beyond.

  And what gardens! Wilson had outdone himself, each flower pruned to perfection, a stunning rainbow of brilliant color and intoxicating scent. At the heart of the arrangement were the peonies, now in full bloom, their bright petals open to the sunlight as if celebrating the occasion.

  For the dozenth time that day, Gaby was speechless.

  This time, so was Bryce.

  “This is the loveliest wedding breakfast I’ve ever seen,” Hermione pronounced, coming to the newlyweds’ rescue. “From Gaby and Bryce, and from me, I thank you. Every one of you has outdone yourself.” She smiled at Gaby and Bryce. “Clearly you’ve made two very special people extremely happy.”

  “Three,” Chaunce amended, giving Hermione a meaningful look.

  “Four,” she corrected, directing her smile at him. She glanced back at the group. “We love you all. Now, shall we begin the celebration?”

  A chorus of yeses ensued.

  It took long moments for Gaby to compose herself enough to join Bryce in wal
king about the room, personally thanking all of the members of her family for their incomparable contributions to this day.

  “My shovel and I did good, huh?” Wilson proclaimed with a lopsided grin. “Almost as good as Cook, who didn’t come out of the kitchen for three nights so she could do her fussin’ without you findin’ out.” He looked at Cook, gave her a clipped salute. “We could all get used to meals like this,” he suggested good-naturedly.

  “Don’t,” Cook advised, her entire face suffused with pleasure as she took in not only Gaby and Bryce’s joyous expressions but Hermione and Chaunce’s as well. “Fooling these four isn’t easy. I’m not eager to try again.” A twinkle. “Until Marion and Goodsmith’s wedding—the one rumor has it might not be theirs alone, might, in fact, boast two brides and two grooms.” She squeezed Ruth’s shoulders as the girl blushed scarlet. “Is that true?”

  Wilson stood up tall. “Yup, it sure is! I finally got up enough nerve to ask her yesterday. And what do you know—she said yes!”

  Everyone clapped.

  “Then another feast it will be,” Cook vowed. “Only this time I won’t have to prepare it like a thief in the night.”

  Laughter filled the room.

  The party went on for hours, and it was half after three that afternoon when Hermione finally separated herself from the group and signaled to get everyone’s attention.

  “I think it’s time the bride and groom were on their way,” she began.

  “That’s been taken care of as well,” Marion inserted quickly. “George has the carriage polished, gleaming, and ready to take the newly married couple to the village inn.”

  “You even thought of that?” Gaby exclaimed, shaking her head in wonder. “You’re astounding.” A tender glance at Goodsmith. “Thank you. I’ll go up and change and be ready in a few minutes.”

  “My pleasure,” Goodsmith assured her.

  Bryce and Thane exchanged a quick look.

  “The gesture is deeply appreciated, Goodsmith,” Bryce began. “The trouble is, Gaby and I will be going from here to London for a few days. And—”