“Who is ‘we all’?” Beck tugged at the ties and Emily barely winced.
“All the bridesmaids. There was me and Dayna’s cousins and a couple of friends from college and high school. There were six of us all together. Only two of us were white.”
Beck looked interested at that.
“No one cares if someone is black or white where you come from?”
Emily wanted to say that they didn’t, but it wasn’t entirely true, some people cared very much.
“Mostly people don’t,” she answered while Beck put the hoop in place. “Some do. I don’t.”
“You’re going to have to watch that if you want to get along in this house, especially without Sam to run interference. Blacks and whites, they mostly stay separate.” She finished attaching the hoop to the corset.
“But not you, you are around the family all the time.” She ducked so Beck could slip the petticoat over her head.
“I’m not their friend. Make no mistake about that.”
“You’re my friend, though, right?” She certainly thought of Beck as a friend, as a confidant, and in her relation to Dayna as a connection to home. Besides Sam, of course, Beck was the only person she really felt comfortable with here.
Beck shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”
Oh.
“It’s nothing against you,” Beck quickly pointed out. “But it doesn’t do me any good to be friends with the whites. They own me. I can’t be friends with them. It’s unequal, you understand?”
“I do.” She wished things were different. “And I’m sorry. I will help you, though. I have promised, and I keep my promises.”
“Someday, when I’m free, if we meet up again. Then we can be friends.” Beck held out the blue day dress.
“I’d like that.” With the promise of future friendship, she let Beck dress her.
She thought of the morning of Dayna’s wedding a few weeks ago. The appointment at the hair dressers, the manicures and pedicures, dropping their bags off at the inn, everyone getting dressed amid laughing and champagne drinking in the master bedroom at Dayna’s parents’ house. The photographer and the endless posed pictures. Finally the limousine ride to the church and the ceremony with the string quartet. It had been magical. Everything had been wonderful until she’d gotten drunk at the reception and fell in the fish pond.
And ended up here.
Life was strange.
The morning proceeded like any other morning, except for the jumpy feeling in her stomach as she thought that this afternoon she was actually going to get married, and tonight she would share a bed with Sam. She shivered a little in anticipation.
Shortly after lunch Sam took her out to the fish pond.
“Are you still sure?” He took her hand in hers and she squeezed, holding on tight. “You will be giving up so much if you stay.”
She stared into the murky water. It was true, she’d be giving up modern conveniences and her family and friends. At least for the time being. If he were to die she could go home, but for now, she would give up those things for him. And if he survived—please God let him survive—she would have him and the rest paled in comparison to that.
“But I’ll have you.” She looked into those gray eyes so full of love. “I’ve never been so sure. And you?”
“Very sure.” He pulled her close. “So very sure. In a few hours you will be Mrs. Samuel Marshall.”
“That sounds wonderful.” She remembered all the different boys’ names she’d scribbled on notebooks in middle school, with a ‘Mrs’ added as if that would make her crush fall in love with her. Mrs. Brad Conroy, Mrs. Juan Estes, Mrs. Justin Smith. And now her name was changing for real. Mrs. Samuel Marshall. She liked it.
Sam took her in his arms, but as soon as his lips touched hers, his sister’s voice interrupted them.
“Plenty of time for that later,” Elizabeth said, a hint of laughter in her voice. “It’s time to get the bride dressed. The groom should get dressed as well.”
“I’ll see you in church,” Sam said as she reluctantly let Elizabeth pull her away.
“Come, sister,” Elizabeth said, looking back over her shoulder as she led the way to the house. “May I call you sister?”
“I’d like that. I never had a sister. I only have a brother.”
“And he cannot be at your wedding? Did you try to contact him? Or”—she looked slightly horrified at the possibility of making a social faux pas—“Has he passed on, like your parents?”
Technically, she could say that her brother was not living, because like her parents, at this time he wasn’t alive, but it felt too terribly tragic to say that all of her family was dead. “He’s in school, but with the war traveling is so much more difficult.”
“Still, it is sad that you could not have your own family here with you.” But, Elizabeth was not one who could stay morose for long. “No matter, we are your family now. And I am your sister. I did always want a sister. Let’s get you ready for your wedding.”
Up in her room, Emily felt like a mannequin as Beck, Elizabeth, and Mrs. Marshall hovered around her and dressed her from head to toe. When they finished, they stepped back and positioned her in front of the mirror. The dress was amazing and surprisingly low cut. She tugged a little at the front, to cover a bit more of her breasts, but Elizabeth stopped her.
“It’s fine the way it is.”
“I feel so exposed! And I’ll be in church.”
“You’ll wear a shawl in church,” Mrs. Marshall said, producing a lovely lace shawl that she draped over her bare shoulders.
“Ooh, this is beautiful.” She looked like something out of a fairy tale.
“It was my grandmother’s,” Mrs. Marshall said, a misty look in her eye.
“I’m honored.” Emily swallowed the lump in her throat, once again reminding herself that if she couldn’t be with her own family, how lucky she was to have the Marshalls.
“Now.” Mrs. Marshall sat on the edge of the bed and suddenly sounded business like. “Since you don’t have a mother of your own, I feel I need to tell you what you might expect on the wedding night.”
Emily’s face flamed. This was bound to be incredibly awkward.
“Maybe I should leave.” Elizabeth inched toward the door.
“No.” Her mother waved her arm, indicating she should stay. “You’ll be getting married before long, stay.”
“I do know about the birds and the bees and all that,” Emily said quickly, lest she have to suffer through an awkward explanation of what sex was.
“Good, but understand that it might be uncomfortable at first, but you want to be sure to try to enjoy it to please your husband.”
Oh, this conversation couldn’t end quickly enough.
“I’ll do my best,” she said, trying hard not to picture herself in bed with Sam, while his mother sat right there.
“You don’t have any questions?” Mrs. Marshall asked anxiously.
“No, I think I have it under control.”
Mrs. Marshall looked a bit relieved at that, maybe even more relieved than she, to be able to end this conversation. Elizabeth would perhaps need a more detailed discussion later, but that wasn’t her concern.
Now that she was ready, both Elizabeth and Mrs. Marshall needed to get dressed. They hurried to their own rooms to get into their finery, and she was left alone to think.
She was getting married.
Today.
To a man who she’d only known a couple of weeks.
This was insane, yet felt so right.
She wished her mother could be here. And Dayna. Maybe not here. Dayna might not fare too well if she were here. What Emily really wished was that her wedding to this incredible man could take place in her own time. She stood in front of the mirror in her amazing rose ballgown and felt beautiful and exotic, but she had always dreamed of wearing a white wedding dress. She’d wanted to go to the bridal stores and try on a dozen dresses and feel like a queen.
&
nbsp; It didn’t matter though, she was marrying Sam. She had to focus on that.
There was a knock on her door and when she opened it, Dolly stood there. “Ooh, you look like a fairy princess!” Then remembering the reason she was there she quickly added, “The carriage is ready for you, miss.”
Emily thanked her and made her way downstairs. Servants helped her and Elizabeth and Mrs. Marshall into the shiny black carriage. Sam and his father had already left for the church.
The church in town was one Emily had been in before. And not just for Sunday Mass with the Marshall family. In her time, the church had been decommissioned, or whatever it was they did to a church to make it not a church anymore, and it was an Italian restaurant. She’d gone to dinner there once on a very memorable blind date.
Memorable because her date was already drunk when she met him there, and then he proceeded to accidentally spill both a glass of red wine and a plate of spaghetti in her lap. The food, what she’d tasted of it, had been good, but she hadn’t been eager to go back there again. Now of course, it was entirely different.
Now the church was still a church with light provided by what seemed like hundreds of candles, and sunlight streaming in through the stained-glass windows. There was not a huge crowd: family and close friends, some of whom she had met over the past couple of weeks, more were complete strangers to her. She should know the people at her wedding, shouldn’t she? She knew Sam, that was good enough.
Mr. Marshall met her at the back of the church. He had agreed to walk her down the aisle, since her own father couldn’t do it. “Are you ready, daughter?”
Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to overflow. She wished her own father could be here.
“I’m ready.” She blinked back the tears and smiled up at him. He took her by the arm and guided her down the aisle.
Sam stood at the front of the church, dressed in his brand new officer’s uniform. Her stomach did a funny flip when she saw it. He looked like something out of a living history museum, but this was real. He was not playing make believe. He was ready to go off and fight the Civil War.
Sam smiled at her and she smiled back and all the worries of the day disappeared.
She was marrying Sam.
The service moved quickly, in Latin, except for the exchange of vows, and she was never quite sure what was going on until Sam put a silver ring on her finger and she said “I do.”
They left the church arm in arm, husband and wife and Emily could hardly believe it was possible to feel as happy as she did.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sam
Sam didn’t remember ever being happier. He led Emily, radiant in her pink dress, to the carriage that awaited them. Someone had decorated the two-seater with streamers of flowers. That seemed like Elizabeth’s handiwork. He helped his wife into the carriage and then climbed up himself.
“Well, my wife.” He enjoyed the way that sounded. “Should we go home?”
“I’ll go anywhere with you, husband.” She beamed at him, holding tightly to his hand.
“There will be food at the house and later, dancing.” He knew he didn’t really have to coax her to go back to the house, and he rather liked the fact that if he wanted to turn the horse’s head in some other direction entirely she would go along with him simply because they were together. This was what happiness felt like.
“Oh, food and dancing.” There was laughter in her voice. “In that case, definitely let’s go home.”
He drove slowly, enjoying the time alone with his wife. He loved that, thinking of her as his wife. He looked forward to the ball, but he couldn’t help counting the hours until he could get her out of that dress and into his bed.
“Your mother wanted to make sure I knew what to expect on my wedding night.” Emily gave him a sly sideways glance.
“No!” He jerked on the reins nearly driving the horse off the road. A frantic second later he had the carriage traveling smoothly again. “I’m so sorry.” How could his mother embarrass him like that? But then again, she would have that talk with Elizabeth, and since Emily had no mother here, it was rather sweet of her to take on that position. “What did she tell you?”
“That it might be uncomfortable, but I should try to make you happy.”
He glanced at his wife and saw that her cheeks were a delightful shade of pink.
“I think we’ll make each other happy.” He found himself getting warm just thinking about it.
“I’m sure of it.” She rested her hand on his knee, and the touch of her, even through the cloth, made his heart beat faster.
Too many hours, that’s how many before he could have her all to himself.
He stopped in front of the house, and Tobias took the reins. Sam helped her out of the carriage. She was getting much better at doing that gracefully. Friends and relatives were already gathering on the porch, and everyone wanted to stop them and offer congratulations. He introduced her over and over, to his uncles, cousins, neighbors. Emily, looking slightly overwhelmed, greeted everyone with the same smile and repeated again and again how delighted she was to be a part of the family and how much she loved Sam.
When he noticed Anna’s parents he hesitated. What could he possibly say to them? But they approached him and there was no way to avoid them.
“Emily, I’d like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Payne, Anna’s parents.” He hoped she would catch the significance of that. He shouldn’t have worried.
Emily took Mrs. Payne’s hands in hers. “I’m delighted to meet you. Anna must have been a remarkable girl, judging by the way Sam’s face lights up when he speaks of her. I know this day must have been difficult for you, thinking that it should be Anna standing here next to Sam. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for your loss.”
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Payne said and Mr. Payne turned to Sam.
“You are a lucky young man. Make sure you keep this girl happy.”
“No worries there, sir,” Sam said, love and happiness once more threatening to bubble over inside him.
They successfully passed the gauntlet of well-wishers and made it to the parlor where his father poured champagne. It seemed everyone had a toast to make, and some people, like his father and George, made several. Emily gamely kept up, draining several glasses of champagne, but her cheeks were flushed and she clung to him tightly. Perhaps they ought to eat before she was too drunk to enjoy the rest of the evening.
Soon the doors to the dining room opened and he led Emily to the head of the table. He held out her chair for her and helped her get her voluminous skirt situated as she sat. The feast started with oyster soup and then the fish course of poached bass with walnut ketchup, followed by roast pheasant with asparagus and fresh peas and finally lamp chops with mint sauce and baby beets. Each course, naturally, had it’s own wine, and there seemed to be a never ending string of toasts to which he and Emily happily raised their glasses. If this continued for too much longer he was afraid Emily wouldn’t be the only one too drunk to make it through the evening.
Sam signaled to a servant and instructed him to bring both of them some water. He wanted to make it through the dance to what lay beyond. He was not going to be incapacitated on his wedding night.
“I’m going to burst if I eat another bite.” Emily murmured, putting down her knife and fork and rubbing her belly. “Or the corset will.”
“That would certainly provide unexpected entertainment.” His gaze lingered on her bosom as he spoke to her. The dress didn’t leave too much to the imagination, not that he was complaining.
As the last plates were cleared, he could hear carriages pulling up outside as the people who were invited to the ball and not the wedding dinner arrived. Soon the dancing would begin. He hoped Emily remembered the steps to the dances. He wanted them both to be able to enjoy the ball.
Emily leaned over and whispered in his ear. “It’s necessary that I…um use the necessary, before we continue.”
“Of course.” He signaled t
o Beck. “Will you accompany Mrs. Marshall and assist her if she needs it.”
Emily grinned. “She’s on potty duty,” she said mostly to herself. “Wait until I tell Dayna.”
Emily was back by his side as the orchestra warmed up, the strings and horns making a discordant sound, preliminary to filling the air with beautiful music.
“Do I need one of those little cards?” she asked, pointing to a dance card that Elizabeth was busy having filled by eligible bachelors in uniform.
“No, your dance card is already full. You will be dancing with me.” He placed a hand proprietorially on her waist. He could do that now without raising eyebrows. She was his wife.
“Is that fair to you?” She looked at him through earnest eyes. “I’m not very good. I want you to enjoy yourself.”
“Do you think for a minute I could enjoy myself dancing with anyone who is not you at our wedding ball?” It didn’t matter if she knew all the dances, what mattered was that she be in his arms.
“I suppose the answer to that is no.” She gave him a huge smile and straightened his tie.
“That’s right. The answer to that is no. Now, come, it’s time to line up for the grand promenade. We must lead.”
She held back. “But Sam, I don’t know how to do that.”
“You walk. On my arm, around the ballroom, in time to the music. Trust me, you can do it.”
He led his beautiful bride into the ballroom as the other couples lined up behind them. As the orchestra played a march they walked the perimeter of the room and down the middle and then around again, until everyone had entered and the band began playing a waltz. At that, Sam guided Emily to the middle of the dance floor. He put one hand on her waist and grasped her hand with his other. He looked into her eyes, that were looking up at him with such trust and love.
“Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” she answered and he began leading her in the dance. No, she didn’t dance as some of the other girls did who had spent years perfecting the steps, but her body moved with his, responded to his, and they glided around the ballroom, the center of everyone’s attention. Soon other couples felt it was proper to join in and the dance floor became crowded, but there was always room around Sam and Emily as if they were in their own little bubble. He had no objections.
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