Mr. Pendleton shook his head. "Not the proper thing, not at all. Have to observe the rules, social order. It's how the country is organized."
From the top landing, Mrs. Pendleton cleared her throat and started her descent. When Beth turned, she caught her breath. Her mother wore possibly the ugliest dress in all creation. The dark yellow dress of silk brocade turned her mother's beautiful skin a shade resembling someone with severe jaundice.
The dress hugged her mother's small waist, but her mother swam in yards of Chantilly lace in the same sickening color. Lace epaulets graced the shoulders, and a matching ruffle fell at the end of the long sleeves. Several strands of beaded ribbon hung from the epaulets, and the same beads decorated the front of the brocade vest.
The expensive lace formed ruffles at her hips and down the front of the dress, and around the base of the skirt. Silk bows decorated the ruffles. The effect was of gaudy and ostentatious excess. Beth's mother looked like a joke, a caricature of bad taste.
"Mother, that's not the dress that Mr. Henri made for the wedding."
"I wired Mr. Henri the day you told us of your engagement to Mason. This arrived by courier only yesterday. It's the very latest thing from Paris." At the bottom of the stairs she held the skirt out. "Mr. Henri insists this color is the rage in Paris and New York. I'll be the only one in Ransom Crossing to have it."
Everyone in the room stared at Mrs. Pendleton, apparently each of them rendered speechless by the horrible dress.
Beth thought Mr. Henri had a lot to answer for and suspected he'd simply found a way to rid himself of unwanted piece goods, probably at an outrageous price. "But, but it's, um, sort of a dried-out mustard."
"Bethany, what nonsense. Show some breeding even if you are about to become a provincial ranch wife. This color is Imperial Chrysanthemum." Mrs. Pendleton checked her elaborate hairdo in the mirror over a wall table. She turned this way and that admiring herself. "It's new this season, so it's not a color you've seen me wear."
And thank heavens for that. Beth remembered the tasteful dress she'd chosen to be made for her mother. The color had complemented her mother's hair and set her complexion to glowing. "What about the lovely gray silk with the imported lace trim?"
Her mother pushed a curl into place. “That? Well, I'll wear it some other time. There'll be plenty of occasions. Your father and I plan a trip to Europe now that you're to be wed and not in need of us as chaperones." Then she spotted Rachel and narrowed her eyes. She marched over and examined Rachel's dress. "Bethany, surely that's not fabric from your China crepe gown?"
"Yes, and I think it turned out rather well, don't you? I like it even better than the original."
Over the yellow cast of her skin, Beth's mother fire reddened with anger. "Do you realize how much that cost? You've ruined a Paris gown to repair one that will never leave the county."
Tears welled in Rachel's eyes. Beth put her arm around her cousin. "But Rachel looks lovely enough to grace any Paris ballroom, doesn't she?"
"Hmph, yes, yes." Mr. Pendleton rubbed his hands together. "Well, then, let's get on our way. The carriage is waiting under the portico."
The women swathed themselves in long cloaks and held their skirts up. With the strong wind blowing outside, Beth bundled her veil under her wrap. Once she was safely inside the chapel, she'd have someone help her set the silk orange blossom crown on her head. Though the portico was covered, Mr. Pendleton carried umbrellas for their use at the chapel.
The closed coach set off with all five of them crowded inside. Beulah and Mr. Pendleton sat facing the other three.
Beulah shook her head. "This rain done ruined my frosting. Turned the sugar all grainy. I told Emma to watch it. Like as not it's gonna run right off them cakes."
"It'll be fine, Beulah, and your cakes always taste wonderful." Frosting was the last thing Beth cared about right now. "With this kind of weather, probably not many people will show up anyway."
Rain lashed against the sides and trickled in at the windows. Beth pitied the poor driver—as well as any guests traveling in open vehicles,
Mrs. Pendleton adjusted her cloak to ward off the window's leak. "We should have put up a screen at the back of the chapel so people could change there."
Mr. Pendleton stared at the window. "Too late now, Louise. I'm sure people will make provisions."
After a short but rough ride, they reached the chapel. Dozens of wagons and buggies ringed the churchyard. Much of the straw Mason and Rowdy had spread floated on puddles or ran on the rivulets down the slope.
Mr. Pendleton opened the door and stepped out. "Bethany, you wait here until time for the ceremony. I'll come back to get you and Rachel."
Beth leaned forward. “This coach is stifling with the windows up. Hurry, or we'll boil."
Mrs. Pendleton pulled the hood of her cloak up and gathered her bunched skirt up under her cloak. Mr. Pendleton held the umbrella and offered his arm. Beulah carried her own umbrella and made a dash for the door. Halfway up the steps, the wind caught the Pendletons' umbrella and turned it inside out. Mrs. Pendleton screamed and rushed into the sanctuary behind Beulah.
The driver moved a few feet away so the steps were clear for other arrivals. Soon Mr. Pendleton appeared carrying what must be Beulah's umbrella over two dippers of water. "Here, this will cool you a bit."
Beth laid her bouquet on the seat beside her. 'Thanks, Daddy." She took a long drink, then sipped the remainder before she handed the empty dipper back to her father.
"Neither your groom nor his parents are here yet, but old man Whittaker is sitting right up front."
Beth fought the panic his words created. "Likely the storm slowed the others."
Mason won't let me down.
Mason won't let me down.
She repeated the litany in her mind to still the butterflies in her stomach.
Rachel drained her dipper and handed it back to Mr. Pendleton. "Thank you, Uncle Howard." She licked her lips and appeared puzzled. 'Tasted odd, didn't it?"
He closed the door and went into the chapel. Beth leaned back and closed her eyes. "Yes, it did."
"Suppose someone spiked it?" Rachel licked her lips.
"I—I don't know. How could we tell?"
Rachel shrugged. “I don't know. Probably doesn't matter. No more than we had, it won't, make us tipsy."
Time dragged while they waited in the sultry coach.
Beth scratched at her neck. Her throat itched. Then the itching spread.
She looked down at the bare skin above her low neckline. Red welts had sprung up. On the bare part of her arms above her long gloves, more angry hives showed.
"No, this can't happen."
Rachel's eyes widened. "My stars. Beth, you're breaking out in hives. Maybe it's nerves because of the wedding, or the heat. Should I open the door?"
"No. The odd-tasting water." Beth panicked. "Gin makes me break out like this." She pointed her gloved hand at her chest. "If someone poured gin in the water and I drank it, this would happen."
Rachel's eyes widened. "How can you be allergic to gin?"
"Juniper berries. Gin's made from them." Beth thought she might cry. Her dress, Rachel's dress, Mason falling, the rain, the cake frosting—the day's events wore on her, and she wanted to curl into a ball and cry. How could so many things go wrong with one ceremony?
"Oh, my gosh. I remember when we were kids and picked all those juniper berries at Grandma's so we could string them for our make-believe Christmas tree. And your eyes swelled and your nose ran and you broke out in—"
"Hives." Beth pointed to herself again. "Just like these."
"What will we do? I keep soothing lotion at home, but no one will have anything here."
Beth closed her eyes and fought against tears—or a scream. "I'll pretend it isn't there. If I ignore the welts, maybe they'll fade." But already she itched on every part of her body. "Are they on my face, too?"
Rachel bit her lip and nodded. "Sorry, Beth."
"Why do al
l these terrible things have to happen whenever I plan a wedding?" Beth wriggled in her seat. She itched everywhere, even her bottom.
Rachel shook her head.
At that moment, another carriage drew up. Rachel polished the steam off the glass and peered out. "It's Mason's parents, but he's not with them."
“Thank goodness they're here. At least that should cut short some of the speculation that's bound to be going on in there."
Rachel leaned back. “Yes, I'd guess the bets were increasing."
"Bets? You said you kept our bet a secret and only told Ben."
Rachel nodded to Beth's question. "Oh, I only told Ben. Well, maybe the kids heard, but they never pay any attention."
Beth wanted to scream, but she took a deep breath. “Then what bets?"
"Everyone in town's betting whether or not Mason will show up and, if he shows, whether or not he'll go through with the wedding. I figured you knew."
"Well, that takes the cake." Beth crossed her arms. "I hope they all bet that he wouldn't show so they'll all lose their money."
"So do I. Ben's holding most of the cash."
"Rachel! You can't mean my own cousin's husband has encouraged bets against me?"
"Don't get mad at us. We figured Mason's a sure thing, and some bet a considerable amount. You know how gossipy folks are, and we thought it would serve them right to lose."
"And so it will. I hope all the talk about me being a jinx will die off now." She fisted her hands. "I can't tell you how sick of it I am."
"You never let on it bothered you."
"Of course it bothers me! How would you feel if half the county talked about you? If they gossiped night and day about silly things?"
"I reckon they have." Rachel laughed. "You remember our oldest was born, um, a few months early."
"Oh, that." Beth clasped her hands to keep from scratching. "Let me guess. Mrs. Weldon and Mrs. Humphreys spread that tale."
Rachel giggled, as if remembering the incident in town today. "Right you are, the sour-faced old biddies."
"As if yours were the first eight-pound premature baby born in this town or any other. For heaven's sake, it's not as if you were running around with half the men in town. Everyone knows you and Ben love each other and had planned to marry anyway."
"Why, thank you, Beth. No one ever defended me before. Ben's mother acts as if I have horns and a forked tail because I trapped her precious boy."
Though she'd never said so to anyone, Beth disliked Rachel's mother-in-law. "The old cat. Has it ever occurred to her that maybe her dear son trapped you?"
Rachel laughed. "No, her adorable, perfect boy can do no wrong. Didn't you know? I hope Mrs. Whitaker isn't like that."
"Me, too, but I don't think she is. She's always been very nice to me and seems pleased Mason and I are getting married."
Rachel chewed her lip and hesitated. "Um, Beth? You heard Mrs. Weldon, so you know the latest gossip?"
"Latest? You mean her remark that I must be in the family way. You mean that wasn't the first time that had been discussed? Oh, forever more! I am so sick of people gossiping. You'd think they could find something better to do with their time than make up stupid rumors about me."
"I wanted to be sure you understood, so you'd be prepared in case she says something to you at the reception."
Those women and others like them made Beth angry. She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself, but her darned corset wouldn't let her. "Does no one read the newspaper? Can't they discuss the weather, what about Governor Ireland's or President Cleveland's policies or other current events, anything besides me?"
Mr. Pendleton chose that moment to open the door and climb in. Beth had never seen him in such disarray. In spite of his oiled slicker, his jacket appeared soaked and his hair plastered to him. Mud and straw coated his shoes.
"Driver's pulling the coach back to the steps so we can get you and Rachel inside. Everyone's here but the groom. His parents said he's picked up a horse and buggy in Medina to give you for a wedding gift and is on his way. He'd damned well better show."
Pleasure shot through Beth, and she clasped her gloved hands. "He ordered me a buggy? Isn't that sweet of him?"
Her father glared. "Not unless he shows up."
Beth smiled, considering her groom's kind nature. "He'll be here, Daddy, you can count on it. Mason won't let me down."
The carriage stopped, and her father climbed down. The rain had slowed, but he opened another umbrella. "Rachel first. Steps are slippery so let me help you. Bethany, you wait here and I'll be back for you."
He closed the door, and Beth waited, willing herself not to scratch. She looked down at her chest, but the welts looked even worse since a few more had popped out. The stifling heat took her breath away, and she feared she'd pass out. Some bride she made, but she pulled her duster around her and prepared for her dash to the chapel.
Her father opened the door and held the umbrella for her. "Lucky for us Whittaker put down the straw. Otherwise the buggies would have stuck."
"He's very thoughtful. Daddy, he really is a wonderful man. I hope you'll realize that soon." Beth rolled her train up until she had it and her veil covered by her wrap and held her skirt up so far her ankles showed. She hoped she didn't drop her bouquet. Her father gripped her arm and guided her up the steps and into the back of the church.
Her mother waited there with Beulah, Rachel, and Rachel's husband and oldest son. Rain and wind had ruined Mrs. Pendleton's elaborate coiffure, and Beulah repeatedly tucked Mrs. Pendleton's curls back into place. Ben wore his best black trousers and a coat that almost matched. Ben, Jr., wore his usual church clothes of shirt and dark britches.
Mr. and Mrs. Whittaker and Mason's cousin, Beau, stood nearby. Mrs.Whittaker wore a dress of turquoise blue lampas trimmed with turquoise satin and pale straw-colored surah. The color deepened the shade of her eyes and contrasted with her sun-kissed skin and dark hair in an attractive way. Mr.Whittaker and Beau wore dark suits, but not a tuxedo like Mr. Pendleton.
From the front of the chapel, Rachel's next oldest, Jamie, yelled. "Hey, there's Cousin Beth. Reckon her man's gonna show up this time?"
Beth wanted to melt into the floor when chuckles rippled across the chapel. Instead, she held her head high.
Rachel marched forward and pinched her son's arm.
"Ow-w-w-w, Mama. I didn't do nothin'." He held his arm as if it were broken.
"You be quiet, Jamie Bigelow, or I'll tan your hide when we get home." Rachel whirled around and walked to the back where her husband waited.
Mrs. Weldon and Mrs. Humphreys pivoted in their seats to smirk at her. Mrs. Weldon had wet leaves stuck to her bonnet. Mrs. Humphreys' hair straggled in limp, soggy curls beneath her hat. Beth looked through them with her coldest glare. Both women quickly faced the front of the chapel.
Beth unfolded her veil and plumped the circle of silk orange blossoms to which the veil attached and set it firmly onto her head. Beulah came forward and adjusted the tulle so that it flowed gracefully down from the crown.
Mrs. Pendleton's eyes widened in alarm. "Bethany, what on earth is wrong with your skin? You look awful. For goodness sakes, do something to repair yourself."
"What can I do, Mother? I have hives. Rachel and I think the water is spiked with gin. You know how allergic I am to it."
Mrs. Whittaker glared at Beau. "You didn't?"
Beau blushed and stepped back. 'Thought it might relax folks. Didn't know Beth would break out in red dots."
She leaned close to his ear and hissed so loud Beth heard. Probably everyone in church heard. "I'll show you relaxed when we get home, young man. You're lucky I didn't find out about this earlier or I'd of poleaxes you myself."
He looked down at the floor. "Sorry, Aunt Millie. Beth, I 'pologize. My thinkin's all messed up 'cause everything about this wedding reminds me Amy doesn't love me. Thought we'd be gettin' hitched, but she's marrying a fellow she met at her aunt's. Tears my heart to pieces."
He looked so forlorn that Beth had to say something nice, even though she'd like to bang his head against the wall.
"It can't be helped now, Beau. I'll be fine in a day or two." She glanced at the delicate watch pinned to her mother's ugly dress. Straight up seven. Beth looked at Mrs. Whittaker. "Mason's late and that's not like him. It's a bad storm. What if something bad has happened to him?"
Mr. Pendleton sniffed. "Boy doesn't deserve Bethany anyway, but he'd better show up."
Ignoring him, Mrs. Whittaker patted Beth's hand. "Now, dear, don't worry. Mason is crazy about you, and he's resourceful. He's sure to be here as fast as he can." She fished in her bag and brought out ajar. "I brought this in case he needs more for that bump on his head. Let's put some on those hives. It smells awful, but it works."
Mrs. Pendleton wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Eeu-uwww. Millicent, you cannot put that awful stuff on my daughter. It would ruin her gown, and it smells to high heaven."
Mrs. Whittaker unscrewed the lid. "Nonsense, Louise. Beth's uncomfortable, and this will ease her itching."
Beth held still while Mrs. Whittaker rubbed her exposed skin with a concoction whose fumes brought tears to her eyes. But the smelly goo cooled the burning and itching wherever it touched. "Thank you. It does feel better. I wish it were everywhere."
Happy Is The Bride Page 7
