Page 17 of A Marriage is Arranged
Louise and Rose returned home the next day. Louise was quiet in the carriage. In spite of the trip to London, her approaching marriage seemed unreal. She still didn’t know the man she was to marry. He said he was beginning to recognize her tendency to be provoking. What was she beginning to recognize in him? She had had an inkling of his softer feelings in his desire to keep his parents’ portraits and he certainly treated his grandmother with affection. But he treated her with as much formality as a mere acquaintance. After that one time, he’d never even kissed her cheek.
Rose was quiet too, but in her case it was because she was dwelling on the fine time she had enjoyed. She had loved London. The other staff members had treated her with kindness and even respect. She’d been seated just below the Countess’s dresser at the kitchen table. When her lady was married and at her own establishment, only the butler and the housekeeper would be higher than her. And then there was Freddy! He’d promised to show her around. She couldn’t wait to get back.
In the weeks before the wedding, Mrs. Grey suggested Louise have some new gowns made in preparation for her entry into London society.
“No,” said her daughter. “The Countess says we won’t receive any invitations for at least two weeks, so I shan’t need them. I’ll have time to order a wardrobe from Véronique. Apparently it’s the custom to leave newlyweds alone until they make the first move by sending out invitations of their own. Her ladyship is hosting a Ball at Shrewsbury House to present me, as I told you. You’re coming, aren’t you, Mama? Why don’t you order yourself a ballgown instead?”
This idea found so much favor with Mrs. Grey that no more was said about her daughter’s lack of wardrobe.
There was little for Louise to do, in fact. She rather inexpertly embroidered her initials on her handkerchiefs and underclothing so they would not get lost in what she was sure was the mountain of laundry at Shrewsbury House, and met with friends in the neighborhood to wish them goodbye. It was not the custom to travel far for a wedding, and they were not expected to make the trip.
She saw nothing of and heard nothing from her future husband. In fact, the next time Louise saw him was when he stood by her side in St. George’s Church. She and her mother had arrived back in London the day before and had stayed with the Dowager Countess overnight. Even now, she knew, her trunks were being transported to Shrewsbury House. Tonight she would lie in that pink silk bed. She tried not to think about it, but it had been the only thing on her mind as the wedding day drew closer. Last night she had not slept a wink. Now she was too tired, nervous, and overwrought to take in the details of her surroundings.
Her heart was pounding so loud in her ears as she walked down the aisle, she knew the organ was playing, but had no idea what the music was. She was alone: she had no father to accompany her and her mother was already sitting in the front pew. There were people there, but their faces were a blur. Her whole concentration was on putting one foot in front of the other.
The assembled company saw a young woman advancing down the aisle in an ivory silk gown. Only the most na?ve of the onlookers thought it a simple gown, however. The fit was one that could be achieved by only the most superior modiste, and the elegance of the whole ensemble was stunning. She carried a bouquet of lilies exactly the color of her gown and wore no veil. Her hair was wound into a simple arrangement on top of her head and around it a tiara sparkled with diamonds in the mid-morning light.
That morning, the Dowager and her dresser had come in as Louise sat at her dressing table in her stockings and petticoat, her mother watching with exasperation as Rose tried to arrange her curls on the top of her daughter’s head.
“It all just keeps falling down!” she wailed.
“You stupid girl!” cried Mrs. Grey, herself handsomely coiffed and dressed in a vivid green that admirably became her dark hair and eyes.
“Give it here,” said Booth, taking over.
In minutes, Louise’s abundant hair was tamed into submission, held on the top of her head with loose ringlets over her ears. Then the Countess produced a black box, which, when opened, revealed a pretty tiara. It was fashioned like a daisy chain a child might make in the meadows, except that the daisies’ petals were oval diamonds with a pearl in the center of each flower.
“I wore this when I was a young bride,” she said, “but I’m too old for it now.”
Before Louise could say a word, Booth took the crown and fastened it around her curls. Then she, the Dowager Countess and Louise’s mother stood back and looked at their handiwork.
“Perfect!” They all said together.
“But… but…,” stammered Louise. “I had no idea it would be anything so costly.”
“Tush!” said the Countess in a tone that brooked no disagreement. “I am delighted you should wear it at your wedding and I hope I shall live long enough to see your daughter do the same. Now, let Booth help you into your gown so we can all see the full effect.”
Booth laid a sheet on the carpet, arranged the wedding gown with all its buttons undone on top, and helped Louise to step into it. Then she pulled it up over her slim hips, helped her into the sleeves, and did up all the pearl buttons down the back. It fit perfectly. In front, the silk fell narrowly to her feet from beneath a bodice that revealed the swell of her breasts. The vee neckline and the elegant coiffure elongated her neck. As she turned to look at herself in the mirror, the other ladies could see that the long row of buttons from the back of the neck to the center of her back where the soft folds of the train began had the same lengthening effect. It was a triumph.
Their breath produced an “Oh!” of wonder. Louise walked forward to the mirror. She saw her own face, but there ended all resemblance to her usual self. An elegant lady stood before her, her hair gracefully swept up and sparkling with the diamonds in the morning light.
It was Rose who said it best.
“Ooh, Miss,” she breathed. “You do look a treat! That’s the loveliest gown I ever seen!”
Louise picked up the sheaf of lilies Véronique had sent her with the note :
Elegant flowers for an elegant bride.
With the compliments of Véronique Aigner.
She turned, holding the lilies with their long matching ribbon.
“Perfect!” sighed the assembled ladies, again.
In St. George’s Chapel, the Earl of Shrewsbury turned and beheld his betrothed walking towards him. At least, it was her same plain face, her wide grey eyes now filled with anxiety, but she seemed somehow taller and more shapely. His dark eyes flickered in appreciation and he bowed.
Then the service began.
Afterwards, Louise wouldn’t have been able to repeat what the rector said, what the Earl replied or what her words had been. She knew he had placed a ring on her finger, for there it was, and she knew she had signed a huge register where a finger had pointed. But suddenly, they were walking back up the aisle, man and wife, and the organ was playing something that sounded like trumpets.
Outside, she was dazzled by the brilliant summer sunshine. She was aware of people waving and shouting. The Earl took her elbow firmly and led her to a waiting carriage. He helped her in, then turned and, drawing handfuls of small silver coins from his pocket, threw them into the crowd. There was a mad scramble, and in the confusion, he gave an order to the coachman and climbed in. They were off, husband and wife.