The Roswell Legacy Frances Statham (mini ebook reader .txt) 📖

more. Poor Cassie. Who would have thought that Stanley was that kind of demanding husband?

CHAPTER

34

The leaves on the beeches had turned a glorious yellow, lining the Washington streets in a brilliantly strewn path for the wedding coach to follow.

It was the last week in October and the slight chill in the air indicated that winter was on its way. The absence of the mourning band on Charles’s arm also indicated a change of seasons. For it was not appropriate to call attention to family sadness on such a day of joy.

For the occasion, Barge was dressed in formal livery and a top hat. He sat proudly on the box and kept the horses in a steady, slow pace. He had reason to be proud, for the leather carriage had been given a thorough cleaning and polish. The metal on the wheels shone with the reflection of the afternoon sun. And he had seen to it that the horses had been given an immaculate grooming, with their tails braided and their harnesses decorated with flowers. The smaller phaeton, holding Clara and Nathan, followed at a discreet distance. It was no less splendid than the larger carriage in which Charles and his daughter Ginna rode on that brilliant, sun-swept afternoon.

“It’s taken a long time, Ginna, but the day is finally here,” Charles said. “Are you happy now, pet?”

“Oh, yes, Papa.”

He looked at his daughter, sitting so composed, with her cream peau de soie dress set off by the heirloom veil. He knew where it had come from and he tried not to think of the last time it had been worn. Instead, he said, “You’re quite a beautiful bride, Ginna.”

Ginna smiled. “I feel beautiful, Papa. So it really doesn’t matter whether I actually am or not. The important thing is that Jonathan loves me and I love him.”

“Yes. That’s what is important.”

Ginna wanted to reach out and touch her father’s hand to console him. But there was something that kept her from doing it. She would always love her father and treasure that time in her life when he was the most important being. But now a metamorphosis was taking place. It had begun in the walled garden at Morrow’s house. And although she had longed to tell her father of that secret wedding as soon as she had returned from Chicago, she had not. Her allegiance belonged to Jonathan first, not to her father.

But she would not take this special day from him.

They rode in comfortable silence until they reached the driveway of the magnificent Drake mansion on the hill. Then, in a low voice, Charles spoke again. “Ginna, I don’t know how much your mother spoke to you about married life. But I assume it was very little. If you have any questions, then now is the time to ask. We probably won’t have another opportunity.”

What could Ginna say? That she already knew? That Jonathan had been such a wonderful, sweet husband? No, that would not do at all. “I can’t seem to think of anything to ask you, Papa.”

“Then it’s just as well. But remember, Ginna: man and woman were created by God to be together, to love each other in a very special relationship. Love Jonathan with all your heart. And trust him, Ginna. I know he’ll be a good, kind husband to you.”

Now Ginna could not help but reach out to her father. She laid her hand on his and said, “I’m sorry that you and Mummy didn’t have that kind of love. But I understand, Papa. Really I do. And someday, I hope you’ll find someone else to share your life.”

“Let’s not talk about me. Today’s your day, Ginna. And it looks as if a large crowd has already gathered for the wedding.”

“I thought it was only going to be family.”

“Mrs. Drake probably considers the entire Congress as an extended family. Allison was afraid she might go overboard, but there’s nothing to do about it now but smile and see it through.”

Barge brought the carriage past the circular entrance and followed the directions of a white-coated runner, who was motioning the wedding coach and the phaeton on toward the back. It had been decided earlier that Ginna and her maid would not risk coming through the front entrance but would take the back stairs to the guest bedroom where her bridesmaid, Martha, would be waiting.

At the same time, Charles and Nathan would be relegated to an upstairs sitting room, to wait until it was time to walk down the winding stairs to the conservatory below.

With her usual flair, Allison’s best friend, Peggy Drake, had decorated her Washington mansion for the wedding and reception to follow. Baskets of white dahlias and birdcages of white doves filled the conservatory, while an altar of white camellias, flanked by tall, standing candelabra, waited for the exchange of marriage vows.

Later, in the upstairs bedroom, Ginna stood very still as Martha and Clara smoothed the few wrinkles from her gown and adjusted her wedding veil.

“Oh, Ginna, how lucky you are,” Martha said, “getting to wear such a beautiful heirloom.”

“Mr. Jonathan’s the lucky one,” Clara countered. “I’ll bet no other Meadors bride looked any prettier than Miss Ginna does today.”

“Enough about me,” Ginna said. “Just look at Martha. Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

Clara nodded. “Blue is her color, that’s for sure. Mr. Wells ought to see her now.”

Martha laughed. “Wouldn’t do a bit of good. And you know why?”

“Why?” Ginna asked. “Because he’s a confirmed bachelor?”

“No. Because I think he yearns for my mother instead.”

“What are you saying, Martha?”

“It’s true. I took your advice and sat with Mr. Hathaway on the porch the other night. Chaperoned, of course, by Mrs. Beauchamp and Miss Counts. And when I came inside, Mr. Wells and my mother were in a deep discussion. I only overheard a little of what he said, but it was enough. He wants to marry her.”

The faint sound of music wafted up the stairs.