The Cavendon Women

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Swallowing hard, he chastised himself for being so anxious. He reminded himself to stay calm. She was here. In this church. That was a relief.

  There was a sense of anticipation in the air all of a sudden. People had become aware that Dulcie was about to walk down the aisle, and they were looking around, trying to see her.

  The organ music started. It was Wagner’s famous wedding march; James recognized the melody of “Here Comes the Bride.” The organist was going all out, filling the church to the rafters with his music.

  Unexpectedly, there she was, standing at the top of the nave, her arm through her father’s, holding on to him tightly. And very slowly they began their walk to the altar.

  Taking a deep breath, James steadied himself. His legs felt so weak he thought they might give way, he was so nervous. His eyes remained on her, taking in her amazing beauty, thinking it was hardly possible that any woman could be this beautiful. But she was. And she was going to be his wife. His.

  She looked like some being from a fairy tale, he decided, and so glamorous it was almost unbearable. She wore a floor-length cape of white brocade, trimmed with white fox. This went around the neckline and down and around the entire hem. It sat on her shoulders, revealed a wedding gown of pure white satin, the skirt covered in tiny crystal beads which gleamed in the candlelight.

  His heart missed a beat when he saw the wide diamond choker he had given her for a wedding present, and the matching diamond earrings. They were the chandelier style, and dripped down from her ears. The jewelry appeared to illuminate her face, and he thought she shone like a bright star. My little minx, he thought. And when she finally arrived, and he stepped forward to take her hand from her father, his eyes filled with tears.

  James blinked, gave her a half smile, saw that she was crying too.

  He wanted to take her in his arms and hold on to her forever. To kiss her again and again. Later, that was later, he reminded himself.

  The ceremony started but all he heard was her voice saying, “I do.” And his own, uttering those same words. Thomas and Andrew were coming forward with their cushions, and gold rings went onto their fingers.

  They stared at each other. Their eyes were still moist.

  They were married.

  Forty-seven

  Church bells pealing. Villagers cheering. Cameras clicking. Confetti falling. That was the scene outside when James left Little Skell Church with Dulcie clinging to his arm, and looking up at him adoringly.

  The cheering stopped when the bridal couple came to a standstill in the middle of the path. Everyone fell silent, momentarily struck dumb. They were the most beautiful couple any of them had ever seen.

  Dulcie thanked them all for braving the cold weather to see her married. James thanked them for their best wishes, then ordered them back to the warm church hall where they should enjoy their own party, his mellifluous voice ringing out in the cold air, stunning them. It was a thrilling voice, like none they had ever heard before. But then he was England’s greatest actor, wasn’t he, they said to one another, nodding their heads.

  James and Dulcie walked down the path, their happiness shining in their eyes. When they got to the Rolls-Royce, DeLacy and Alicia were already there, and they helped Dulcie into the backseat, lifting up her gown and the long cape, arranging them carefully.

  Once the car was driving toward Cavendon Park, James turned to Dulcie, and touched her face lightly with his fingertips. “You’re my wife,” he said in a low voice. “Imagine that, my little torturer is now my wife.”

  Dulcie’s eyes opened wide. She stared back at him. “Torturer,” she repeated. “I would never torture my husband.”

  “No, you won’t,” he replied more emphatically, and grinned at her. “But you certainly made a good job of it when I was your fiancé.”

  She squeezed his hand, leaned against him, and whispered, “I know I was a temptress, and I’ll never stop being that, you know.”

  “I certainly hope not.”

  They fell silent after that, and several minutes later the car was pulling up outside Cavendon Hall. Miles and Cecily, who had been put in charge of the wedding weekend, were standing on the front steps waiting for them.

  After Hartley had helped Dulcie out of the car, Cecily took the small bouquet of white orchids from her, so that Dulcie could lift the cape and gown as she went up the steps.

  Once they were inside the entrance hall, Miles and Cecily hugged them both and congratulated them. Then Miles said, “I want us to get the usual formalities over as quickly as possible.” Glancing at his sister, he turned to James, winked, and said, “Dulcie wants things to move fast, so she can have you all to herself, I suspect.” He threw her a suggestive look, his eyes full of mischief.

  “Miles!” Dulcie exclaimed, and found herself actually blushing.

  James, amused by her reaction, said, “Well, Miles, I’ve discovered my wife usually has very good ideas indeed. So come, let’s start moving it along. What are we doing first?”

  “Here’s the drill,” Miles answered. “There are newspaper and magazine photographers waiting for you both in the yellow drawing room. Felix is looking after them for me, since he’s used to dealing with the press. They’re being served hot tea and coffee, and finger sandwiches. So in about fifteen minutes that room will be your first stop.”

  Cecily interjected, “The press already adore you, James, from what Felix says, and I’m sure they’ll feel the same way about your wife.”

  “How could they not?” James murmured, and blew a kiss to Dulcie, who laughed, her happiness spilling out of her.

  Miles took over, and said, “This is the right time to do it, if either of you want to freshen up. Then we’ll take you to meet the photographers, have your pictures taken. Half an hour maximum. After that you’ll join our families for the traditional family portrait. In the West Wing ballroom.”

  Dulcie, looking at Cecily, said, “Do I need to do anything?”

  “I don’t think so, you look wonderful to me.” As she spoke, Cecily went over to Dulcie and studied her face for a moment. She shook her head. “Perfection, even the lip rouge hasn’t smudged. And the little Juliet cap has held your hair in place very nicely.”

  “Thank you, Ceci. And thank you for everything you’ve done for me, and for my beautiful gown and cape.” She leaned forward and kissed Ceci’s cheek, and whispered against her hair, “It’ll be your turn to get married next, you’ll see.”

  Cecily smiled, but this suddenly faltered and she turned her head as her eyes filled.

  Only Dulcie noticed the unexpected tears. James was busy asking Miles a string of questions about the family portraits.

  * * *

  James was efficient and disciplined, and Dulcie used to traditional family weddings. And with Miles and Cecily in charge, guiding them, things moved along without a hitch, and at great speed. The Inghams and the Woods were patient, and allowed themselves to be moved around, and rearranged, and rearranged again by Miles and Cecily.

  * * *

  James and Dulcie were the last to leave the ballroom in the West Wing. It was mandatory that they had photographs of just the two of them together, and they had stayed behind to do the shots.

  Now they walked to the South Wing, where the wedding reception and dinner were being held. The reception was in full swing when they arrived in the pale green sitting room, where they were welcomed by members of their families and guests.

  They both took glasses of champagne and moved around together, greeting as many as they could. They then veered to their right, and went into the pink dining room. Earlier in the week this had been revamped by Hanson and Mrs. Thwaites, who had turned it into another sitting room as they had done in the past.

  The first person to greet them was Great-Aunt Gwendolyn, who had taken a fancy to James. “Like every other woman,” Dulcie had muttered when her aunt first met him. Great-Aunt Gwendolyn looked quite extraordinary in one of her royal-purple gowns and masses of diamonds
. Charlotte came over next, and DeLacy with Travers, and then the bridal couple moved on once again, not wanting to miss anyone.

  Dulcie, who had bonded with Ruby weeks ago, gravitated to her when James got caught up with Ralph Shore, an actor friend of long standing. Just after that James was surrounded by some of his other male cronies, and trapped for the moment.

  “We make quite a fantastic clan, don’t we, Ruby?” Dulcie said, and raised her glass to her sister-in-law. “Twenty-four of us in that photograph and we all looked marvelous.”

  Ruby raised her glass and clinked it against Dulcie’s. “The Inghams and the Woods, and not a bad match at that.” Ruby gave her a loving smile. No flibbertigibbet, this one. Dulcie was the real thing.

  There was a moment’s pause, and Ruby drew closer. “I’m so happy James found you, Dulcie. You’re good together. He’s always needed a woman like you.” Ruby meant every word. She had faith in Dulcie, knew that she was steady, practical, and had her feet on the ground. And there was a smart brain behind that gorgeous face.

  “I adore him, Ruby. You must never worry about him. I promise you I’ll take great care of your James. And mine.”

  Before Ruby could respond, Constance Lambert came to join them, her face full of smiles. She too was wearing purple, but her outfit was a Cecily Swann. It was chic, a long straight taffeta gown, enhanced by a shower of amethyst beads.

  “What a wonderful wedding, Dulcie. And so many flowers! Wherever did they come from in this harsh winter? The church and the house look unbelievable.”

  “We have several greenhouses at Cavendon, and our head gardener grows orchids. So some of them came from here. The rest are from Harte’s in London. They import flowers from the Scilly Isles the year round. They were driven up from London in a Harte’s van yesterday.”

  “How amazing,” Constance replied, and went on, “And so are you, Dulcie. You look breathtaking. Cecily has done you proud; your wedding dress is out of this world. And so is the cape.”

  “That’s also very warm,” Dulcie said with a laugh. “I was glad to take the cape off during the photography. And leave it off. Thank you, Constance, I love the dress too. But I asked Ceci to keep the bodice plain; that’s why there are only crystals on the satin skirt. I didn’t want anything competing with my diamonds from James.”

  “What has James done now?” James asked, coming to a stop next to Dulcie. “What are my three favorite women saying about me?”

  “Only that we love you to death,” Dulcie answered.

  James took hold of her hand, brought her closer to him, somewhat possessively. He said, “Hanson is about to announce dinner, and Daphne thinks we ought to slip out to the hall, disappear so that he can get everyone else to sit down. We’ll be the last to go into the blue ballroom, Dulcie. Hanson will come and get us.” He smiled at Constance and his sister. “We’re going to slip out now. See you in a few minutes.”

  James led Dulcie through the two rooms and into the entrance foyer of the South Wing. “We can wait here,” he murmured, kissing her on the cheek.

  She looked at him coquettishly, raised a brow, and said, “If we hurry maybe we can have a quickie. Upstairs in your suite. What about it?”

  “Dulcie Ingham, you’re incorrigible!” he exclaimed, laughing.

  “I’m Dulcie Brentwood now. Your missus, and don’t you forget it.”

  * * *

  When they entered the blue ballroom a short while later even Dulcie gasped along with James. It was really a large sitting room, but it had been transformed like the others. Furniture and carpets had disappeared. Eight tables of ten, to seat eighty people, had been arranged around the room; the center had become a dance floor. The room itself was decorated with flowering plants, banks of orchids, roses, and other species. There were white tapering candles everywhere, and little votive lights twinkled on window ledges, the mantel shelf, and the dinner tables.

  A five-piece band was situated in a corner, and as James and Dulcie walked in holding hands, they struck up “Here Comes the Bride.” And everyone clapped at the sight of them.

  The food was delicious, the wines superb, and the room buzzed. People were chatting and laughing. It was not only a lavish wedding but a joyous one.

  There were, over a period of time, many toasts and speeches. The latter were kept short, following Miles’s stern instructions. Some were very funny, others touching.

  At one moment, James and Dulcie went onto the dance floor. It was their first dance of the evening. Once they had been around twice, other couples followed, and it seemed to Dulcie that there had not been such gaiety and happiness at Cavendon for years. Not even at her father’s marriage to Charlotte last year. It pleased her that people were having a good time.

  After dessert had been served, Miles came to speak to James. “You should do your speech now, before the wedding cake is wheeled in. That’s quite a performance, cutting it, and all that. A bit of a fuss, actually.”

  James agreed with him. “Yes, it’s best to do it now,” he replied, at the same time wondering if he and Dulcie could escape after that.

  A few minutes later Miles and Cecily tapped their crystal goblets with their spoons and the room fell silent.

  Squeezing her hand, James stood. Everyone was staring at him, including his wife. But he was used to that after all these years on the stage, and he never minded an audience after-hours. It was part of his life, a given.

  “I will never forget my beautiful wedding in the snow,” he began. “Marrying my incredible Dulcie has made this the happiest day of my life. I could sing her praises to you, and tell you how unique she is, but I would prefer to say something to my wife instead.” He looked around the room, and added, “If you will permit me?”

  “Yes, yes, go ahead!” Ralph Shore cried, and all of James’s male friends started to clap. “Go ahead, say it to her, Jamie!” Ralph exclaimed. “We’d love to hear it, too.”

  “Since I’m an actor and not a writer, I’m used to speaking other people’s words. I would like to do that now, in order to express my feelings about my wife.”

  He looked down at Dulcie, sitting on his right, her bright blue eyes huge in her face.

  He stood there without speaking for a moment. And yet he was charismatic and compelling in his silence and stillness. The moment he began to speak again, in that memorable voice, the entire room went quiet. There was not a sound but his voice ringing out across the ballroom.

  “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight for the ends of being and the ideal grace.”

  He paused for a moment, his voice becoming slightly softer as he continued, “I love thee to the level of every day’s most quiet need … by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely as men strive for right. I love thee purely as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use in my old griefs and with my childhood’s faith…” There was another pause, and his cadence changed again. “I love thee with the love I seemed to lose with my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears of all my life…” He inclined his head. He had finished saying the words written so long ago by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

  James leaned down to Dulcie, took hold of her hands, and brought her to her feet. Looking into her face, he said, “Oh how I love you, my darling wife. So very, very much.”

  Tears glittered in Dulcie’s eyes and in his. And everyone else’s. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

  The two of them remained standing, gazing at each other, and then she put her arms around him and kissed him, holding on to him tightly, as he now held her.

  Everyone began to clap, and Dulcie walked him out to the dance floor. The band began to play a waltz and they danced around the floor, still gazing at each other. The guests were mesmerized and remained seated.

  A few moments later two footmen and Hanson came into the ballroom. Gordon Lane and Ian Melrose were pushing a rumbling trolley on which stoo
d an enormous three-tier wedding cake. A masterpiece of icing sugar and fantastical decorations.

  They positioned the trolley in the middle of the floor. Hanson beckoned to James and Dulcie. They joined him next to the cake, and Hanson handed Dulcie a large silver knife.

  “Put your hand on top of hers, sir,” Hanson said to James. “You must cut the cake together.”

  They did so. There was more applause from the guests, and laughter from the bride and groom.

  Hanson beamed at them, and motioned for the two footmen to wheel the cake to the other end of the room, where it would be cut into slices and served.

  The band began to play on cue from Miles. James took Dulcie into his arms and beckoned to their guests and family members. “Come and join us!” he called. “Dance with us! Celebrate with us!”

  Cecily and Miles came onto the floor first, followed by Daphne and Hugo, Ruby and Ted. Owen and Elaine followed. And so did Charles and Charlotte, with DeLacy and Travers hard on their heels. The floor was soon filled with couples enjoying every moment of this quite extraordinary wedding.

  “Let’s go,” Dulcie whispered after a few seconds.

  James nodded, and holding her firmly in his arms he danced her across the floor and out of the door of the ballroom. They ran down the corridor and into the hall, went up the main staircase to the East Wing. This was where the Inghams lived, and Dulcie had insisted James have a suite near her room.

  Dulcie stopped when she came to her bedroom. It was just three doors away from the Marmaduke Suite, where James was installed.

  He stared at her, asked worriedly, “Do you think I can get you out of this complicated dress?”

  “I doubt it,” Dulcie answered, and looked over her shoulder. “Cecily agreed to follow us when we left the ballroom. She’ll get me undressed. Go on, go to your suite. Oh look, here she comes. I won’t be a minute.”

  “After waiting four months, I think I can manage a minute,” he said, giving her a theatrical leer. “Hurry up though.”