by Anne Weale
Carola nodded. “Daniel, I haven’t thanked you for this gorgeous bracelet,” she said, rather shyly.
He had never given any sign of remembering what had happened on the evening of her visit to the Hall, but she was still very conscious of that shaming episode whenever she saw him now.
“Do you really like it? I probably should have got Rachel to help me choose something for you, but I saw it in a shop and thought it was rather your style,” he said, with a friendly grin that always deepened her sense of guilt.
“It’s beautiful ... it really is.”
He reached out to touch it for a moment, then his fingers slid down her wrist and closed over her hand in a warm, firm clasp. “You know, I think Peter is almost as lucky as I am,” he said lightly.
And, although his tone was teasing and his mouth had a quirk at the corner, his eyes were grave and understanding. In that one steady glance that passed between them, Carola knew that his niceness to her was not a cover for secret contempt. He knew why she had made such a fool of herself that night, and he did not despise her as she had feared. He was telling her now—with his eyes and the pressure of his hand—that she could forget it, as he would. For both of them, present happiness would blot out all past misunderstandings and mistakes.
“Thank you, Daniel,” she said softly. Then, in a brisker tone, “Will you tell Rachel we ought to go in now? You mustn’t be late getting away or you might miss your plane.”
Daniel murmured in his wife’s ear, and she nodded and made her excuses to the women who had been admiring her lovely white lace bridal dress. But before she followed Carola towards the house, she laid her hand lightly on Daniel’s arm and looked up at him with a smile of such radiance that Carola, who had never understood why women were so often tearful at weddings, felt her throat grow tight.
In their bedroom, Rachel said, “Heavens, it doesn’t seem five minutes since I got up, and now it’s nearly over. Oh, Caro, I’m so happy.” She gave her sister a hug. “No—wait a minute before you start unbuttoning me. I must have one last look at myself as a bride. Doesn’t Daniel look superb in his morning clothes—and Peter, too. Aren’t we lucky, having bagged such a handsome pair? Oh dear, I can hardly bear to take this off. It makes me feel like a queen—it’s the train and this diadem, I suppose. Are we late? Must I hurry?”
“No, there’s plenty of time, but we ought not to dawdle,” Carola said, beginning to unfasten the dozen tiny buttons of her sister’s long, tight sleeves.
Rachel spread the fingers of her left hand and dreamily surveyed the effect of the faceted band of platinum below her square-cut emerald engagement ring.
It took quite some time to extricate her from the billowing yards of lace and the ruffled tarlatan petticoats, and to unpin the pearl diadem holding the cloud of tulle veiling.
While she was sitting in the expensive strapless basque which had been a present from Carola, and changing her pale blue stockings (also bought by her sister as a pretty idea for the “something blue”) for a pair of sun-tan nylons, Miss Burney came in.
“Rachel dear, I thought you must be hungry—I’m sure you never had a bite downstairs—so I brought these chicken sandwiches. Such a happy day, but still a strain on the nerves. It would never do for you to feel faint on the journey.”
“Bless you, Aunt Flo. I didn’t realize it before, but I am pretty peckish. By the way, where’s Suzy got to? I suppose she’s glued to the buffet table and busily swigging, champagne. I hope she doesn’t get tiddly, the little monkey.”
“I don’t know where she is, dear. I haven’t seen her for some time. Perhaps I should go and find her,” Miss Burney suggested.
“Oh no, stay and chat,” Rachel urged. “I doubt if she’s under the table yet! I say, wasn’t old Bolster pleased with himself and his silk rosette? That beauty treatment at the dog parlor has made him look quite Kennel Club-ish.”
In fact, Suzy was not hovering hungrily around the buffet tables. Unknown to her family, she had recently embarked on a slimming regime. Lately, the desire for sylph-like proportions had become stronger than the pangs of adolescent appetite, and even on this very special day she had managed to restrict herself to only two sandwiches and a single portion of the wedding cake.
At the moment that Rachel was stepping into the skirt of her almond linen going-away suit, Suzy was hovering nervously outside the door of the surgery which, today, was Daniel’s changing room. She was waiting to thank him for the little Victorian locket which he had chosen for her present, and to say a brave farewell to the great love of her life. From now on, she intended to renounce all emotion, all sentiment, and concentrate on becoming a Top Career Woman. She had not yet decided precisely what the career was to be, but that was a mere detail.
As she waited outside the reeded glass door and heard Daniel and Peter laughing together inside, her eyes took on a faraway glaze and she had a clear mind’s eye view on herself as-she would be at thirty ... a woman of whom men said “she has a heart of stone and the intellect of an Einstein.”
She was still dreaming of the long, highly-polished board room table (with herself seated at the head) and the respectful attention of the other company directors as she outlined some startling but brilliantly-conceived new policy, when Peter came out of the surgery.
“Hello, Suzy. Is Rachel nearly ready?”
Suzy blinked at him. “Oh ... I don’t know. I haven’t been up. Is Daniel changed now?”
He nodded, and disappeared into the main part of the house.
“Suzy, come in, honey.” Daniel had heard her voice and now looked round the door. He was adjusting the knot of his tie, still in his shirt-sleeves.
“I wanted to thank you for this,” she said, touching the turquoise-studded locket on its fine gold chain.
“It was my pleasure.” He shrugged into his coat, and began checking that he had his car keys and other belongings.
And suddenly visions of being a Top Career Woman lost their comfort, and Suzy felt tears smarting her eyelids. Because, although she had dramatized her feelings for Daniel as she did everything, this time her secret dream-fantasies had been based on truth. She really did love him, and while she knew that first love was rarely the final and best love, it was still a very real and painful experience.
Daniel saw her flush and the suspicious quiver of her lips. “I expect you’re feeling slightly blue, aren’t you?” he remarked casually. “It will seem pretty strange not having Carola and Rachel around. Never mind, we’ll soon be home again. I thought you might like to join us for a few nights in London before we came back here. We could see the new plays and all the sights.”
“Oh, Daniel, you do mean it? That would be gorgeous,” she said eagerly, thankful that he had not guessed the real reason why she had looked so weepy a moment ago.
“Certainly I mean it,” he promised. “Incidentally, I’m really grateful for all the help you’ve given Rachel with the arrangements. If she’d had to fix all the details by herself, she’d have needed a convalescence instead of a honeymoon.”
“Oh, I haven’t done all that much,” Suzy muttered, coloring.
“Well, I think you’ve done a whole heap,” Daniel said firmly.
And then he did something so unexpected and so, wonderful that she would never forget it as long as she lived. He took one of her hands—thank goodness Carola had given her an expert manicure the night before—and lifted it up and kissed the back of her palm. The wonderful part was that he didn’t do it in an exaggerated way, as a tease to his funny moon-faced little kid sister-in-law. He did it as if she were a grown-up woman whom he really admired.
Daniel’s car was waiting outside the front door, and all the guests were crowding through the house to watch the newly-weds go off, and to shower rose petals and rice.
“Bless you, Daddy. It’s been a lovely wedding. Take care of yourself. We’ll wire you as soon as we arrive ... and send lots of postcards.”
Careless of the set of her dashing whit
e straw Breton, Rachel flung her arms round her father’s neck and gave him a loving hug. Then, after more hugs for Aunt Flo—weeping as if it were a wake—and Carola and Suzy and, finally, Peter, she ducked into the car and slid across the passenger seat to make room for Daniel. By the time he had started the engine and let in the clutch, they were engulfed in such a blizzard of confetti that, even if they had had the foresight to put a brush and pan in the boot, it was unlikely that they would be able to get rid of all the multi-colored particles and rice grains before reaching London Airport.
As the car moved forward, it became apparent that the traditional tin cans and old boots had not been forgotten either.
But it wasn’t until they were well outside the village and had brought a grin to the faces of several other motorists and lorry-drivers that Daniel pulled in to the verge and produced a pocket-knife.
While he was cutting the strings on the back bumper, Rachel shook the contents of at least two confetti packets out of the brim of her hat, and brushed her shoulders and sleeves.
“We’re going to leave a paper trail all the way to Malta, I should think,” she said laughingly, as Daniel heaved a burnt-out kettle and a gum-boot over the hedge into a field.
“Do you mind? Did you want to pretend that we were an old married couple?” he asked, rejoining her.
“I don’t care if the whole world knows it’s our wedding day.”
“Neither do I.” He caught her hand as she began to brush down the shoulders of his coat. “Do you realize that we’ve been married for over three hours and I haven’t kissed you yet, Mrs. Elliot?”
When he had remedied this deficiency, Rachel leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment. “Mrs. Elliot ... I’m sure I shall take ages to get used to it,” she murmured happily.
Daniel started the car once more. “You will. There’s plenty of time.”
Rachel moved reluctantly away from him. “Mm ... that’s the best of it. Today is only the beginning.”
THE END
