When is it to be? Kate asked as they sat together in one of the smaller sitting-rooms, which was easier to keep warm than the huge drawing-room and had some comfortable upholstered chairs. She had some embroidery in her lap, but she had done no work on it since Margaret had joined her.
The twenty-first, four days before Christmas. Her ladyship wants no delay and his lorRoland agrees with her.
But thats less than a week away! How can you possibly be ready by then?
It is not difficult. I have no family except Great-Uncle Henry, and there will be no invitations issued, although Roland has said he will invite the villagers to attend the service. They will help to fill the church.
Dont you mind? A wedding should be a grand affair, a cause for celebration. It is almost as if you are ashamed to have it known.
No, not at all. You forget, I am in mourning.
Oh, yes, I am sorry, Margaret, how thoughtless of me. Does that mean there will be no wedding-trip either?
Margaret gave a light laugh and was surprised that it sounded so natural. Well go nowhere while this weather holds, but later, perhaps, we may go to London. Roland tells me he has business there.
Business! Kate gave a grimace of disgust. You know, he really is the dullest man.
Not at all, Margaret said, and meant it. Whatever she thought of Roland, she did not find him dull. If only he were not so tense, as if he was deliberately holding himself aloof, he would be an entertaining and charming man. She began to wonder if the fault was with her, but if he found her not to his liking, why had he asked her to marry him? We can combine business with pleasure, surely?
Yes. There will be routs and balls, and no doubt Roland will present you at court. Have you decided what you are going to wear?
To court?
No. Kate laughed. At your wedding.
Roland has insisted on buying me a gown. Is there anyone in Ely who could make me one? Nothing extravagant, of course.
There is a dressmaker, but I have rarely been to her. Kate sounded doubtful. I usually buy all I need when we are in London.
There is no time for that. I am a good needlewoman, so if it isnt to my liking I can alter it.
No wheeled vehicle could use the roads so they went into Ely by sled, drawn by a sturdy little pony, with one of the grooms at its head wearing huge flat snow-shoes and Roland and Charles riding alongside. Wrapped up in fur cloaks and muffs and with several sheepskins around their knees, the two girls enjoyed the ride. The sun sparkled on the snow and icicles hung from the hedges, and for a time Margaret forgot to be sad. It was good to be outside, to breathe the icy air; it made her tingle with new life. She looked up at Roland, riding so easily alongside, his hands loosely on the reins; there was no doubt he was a very handsome man and she had made quite a catch. If only they had met in different circumstances; if only He glanced towards her, almost as if he had read her thoughts, and their eyes met briefly, reminding her of the kiss that never was, before he turned back to negotiate an ice-covered pot-hole.
We should be able to skate tomorrow, Kate was saying. Not on the river, of coursethats too dangerousbut on the fen. There is a shallow stretch of water which is flooded every winter and is perfectly safe. Would you like that?
Margaret pulled herself together. I would certainly like to try, though whether I can stay upright remains to be seen.
Kate laughed. If the ice holds well go tomorrow, and then we shall see.
The Isle of Ely was a surprisingly small place, considering the size of the cathedral, and its roads were no more than muddy lanes, made slippery by frozen snow. Set on a small hill which had been an island in the days before the fens were drained, it had the usual quota of basket-makers, candle-makers, butchers, dairies, fish-sellers, blacksmiths, carriage-makers, coopers and the like, besides more than its fair share of inns and taverns. There was, as Kate had said, a dressmaker and, because it was a place of learning, a bookshop, tucked in the ancient walls close to the cathedral.
Once Margaret and Kate had been delivered at the door of the dressmakers tiny establishment, the two men went off on business of their own, promising to return in an hour. The dressmaker, a tiny little woman in a plain grey wool dress which did not fill Kate with confidence, dashed around laying out patterns and materials, talking the whole time to cover the fact that she was flustered to receive such illustrious customers. If only I had known you were coming, she said. I could have ordered more samples. Would you like me to send for some?
No, I am afraid there is no time, Margaret said, deciding not to tell the woman that the gown was intended for her wedding; she was not sure if the dressmaker was capable of anything elaborate. If her mother, who was a first-class seamstress, had been alive, she would have had a wedding-dress the envy of the world. She sighed. If her mother had been alive, she would not have been in Ely choosing a wedding-gown in the first place. I need something simple. She picked up a swatch of pale lilac taffeta. This, I think.
Margaret, its too plain! Kate exclaimed.
It can be trimmed with satin ribbon bows and lace in the neck and sleeves. I am in mourning, after all, and I dont want anything too bright.
Roland returned at that point to fetch them and Kate turned to appeal to him. Look at this, she said, holding the swatch out to him. Margaret wants to wear this.
She may have whatever she chooses, he said, barely glancing at the material. I am sure whatever she wears will look very well.
There was no more argument and, having been promised that the gown would be ready in time, they joined Charles for nuncheon at the White Hart.
Kate chatted happily to the men and no one seemed to notice that Margaret was very quiet. She was thinking of the last time she had been there. Was it only two days before? So much had happened since then and her life had been turned round in a way she could never have foreseen. Was it for the good? Or had she put her head in a snare of her own making? If she had been able to see into the future, would she have ever left London? It was a question she could not answer.
Kate was laughing and talking about her own wedding, fixed for early spring. I can hardly wait, she said, looking at Charles. Can you?
He reached across and put his hand on hers. No, and I see no reason why we should. Shall we bring it forward? Shall we have a double wedding?
Could we? Kates eyes were bright. What do you think, Roland? After all, I am in mourning for Papa.
Your father approved the match, Charles said. He would not have objected. He turned to Roland with a boyish grin. What do you say?
I dont see why not. Roland lifted an enquiring eyebrow in Margarets direction. Would you like that?
I think I should like it very much, she said, then to Kate, But are you sure? Were you not thinking of a grand occasion with a great many friends and a big banquet?
If you can go without that, then so can we. My gown is ready and has been hanging in my closet for weeks. It is red taffeta, embroidered with pearls and scarlet ribbons. She jumped up excitedly. Oh, lets go back and break the news to Grandmama.
Five minutes later, they were once again tucked up under the sheepskins on the sled and on their way back. Kates obvious happiness and the fact that she was known and liked locally would ensure that the dual wedding was a joyful occasion and might divert attention from Margaret herself who, try as she might, could not bring herself to rejoice. She was being thoroughly nonsensical, she told herself; she should not be sad. Many a young girl had gone to her wedding without being in love and it had turned out well in the end. Love was not a prerequisite for a successful marriage, never had been, never would be; what was important was to respect and admire the man you were to marry and know that you would be treated with courtesy and kindness. And it was not difficult to admire him, though she certainly did not understand him. He was riding alongside now, deep in thought, as if he were struggling with some weighty mathematical problem.
Five minutes later, they were once again tucked up under the sheepskins on the sled and on their way back. Kates obvious happiness and the fact that she was known and liked locally would ensure that the dual wedding was a joyful occasion and might divert attention from Margaret herself who, try as she might, could not bring herself to rejoice. She was being thoroughly nonsensical, she told herself; she should not be sad. Many a young girl had gone to her wedding without being in love and it had turned out well in the end. Love was not a prerequisite for a successful marriage, never had been, never would be; what was important was to respect and admire the man you were to marry and know that you would be treated with courtesy and kindness. And it was not difficult to admire him, though she certainly did not understand him. He was riding alongside now, deep in thought, as if he were struggling with some weighty mathematical problem.
When they arrived back at the Manor, they were told that a package had arrived for Mistress Donnington, which had been put in her room.
A package? Margaret queried. But no one knows Im here.
Someone evidently does, Kate said, hurrying upstairs, leaving Margaret to follow more sedately. She was puzzled. No one knew where she was except the people at the Manor and Great-Uncle Henry, and she could not imagine him taking the trouble to wrap anything and send it to her. She entered her chamber to find that Kate had flung off her heavy cloak and draped it across a chair and was standing by the bed gazing down at a rather large box, tied with ribbon.
Oh, do hurry and open it, she said. Is there a message?
Margaret suppressed her own curiosity in order to take off her coat and boots and put them tidily away as she always did; servants or no, it was a habit she would find hard to break. Then she carefully untied the ribbon, lifted the lid of the box and pulled aside its cotton lining. Oh! Carefully she drew out a magnificent open-skirted gown in a heavy ivory satin. The bodice was square-necked with three-quarter sleeves which ended in a froth of pleated lace. The hem and neckline and the stiffened stomacher were heavily beaded in a rose pattern. Oh, it is exquisite!
A wedding-gown, Kate whispered in awe, while Margaret delved into the box and drew out a piece of paper, half expecting a note from Roland saying he had decided against the gown she had chosen in Ely. It would explain his cursory glance at the material. But why had he not said anything at the time? And where could he have come by such a lavish creation? She found herself wondering if it had been meant for someone else, but she pushed the thought from her; she did not want to think about that.
What does it say? Kate asked eagerly.
It is from Great-Uncle Henry, Margaret said, stifling her disappointment that it had not come from her groom. He says my mother was to have worn it at her wedding, but there was no wedding, not in Winterford at any rate. I didnt know that; she never told me. Oh, poor Mama! He says it has been in a trunk in a box-room at Sedge House all these years. He sends it with his felicitations.
Oh, how romantical! Try it on, do! Does it have a petticoat?
Margaret looked in the box. There was a white silk petticoat and a bonnet of matching slipper-satin, trimmed with ribbon. She slipped out of her clothes and put them all on. They fitted perfectly, as she had known they would. She and her mother had been very alike, both in looks and figure. She stood before the long pier-glass, swaying this way and that, admiring the richness of the fabric and noticing the brightness of her eyes and the colour the cold air had put into her cheeks. Suddenly she felt happy. How could anyone clothed in such a wedding-dress not be happy?
Oh, lets go and find Roland and tell him, Kate said.
No! Margaret said suddenly. I want it to be a surprise.
Oh, what a lovely idea! I wont say a word, I promise.
Margaret took the finery off and hung it carefully in the mahogany wardrobe and dressed again in her simple blue merino; then they went downstairs to find that Roland had put the idea of a double wedding to Lady Pargeter and obtained her agreement. What he would not countenance was that Henry Capitain should be invited to the ceremony.
But he is my only relative, Margaret said, feeling that the least she could do was to allow her great-uncle to see her in the gown. Surely it cannot do any harm?
I am surprised you can suggest it, he said. You know what he is like.
I know he is a little ill-groomed, but I am sure he would dress suitably for such an occasion.
And bring his doxy with him, I dont doubt.
You could ask him not to.
No, Roland said, so firmly that Margaret knew further argument was useless. She said no more, but made up her mind to write a little thank-you note and have it sent to Sedge House.
She saw little of Roland in the next few days because he was busy directing the digging of a new drain and the building of a flood barrier, but he did return to accompany Charles and the girls skating.
The huge field was two or three miles away and the girls went in the sled, while the two men rode. The narrow roads were crowded as everyone from miles around converged on the area which had been set aside for the skating. Men with brooms had been out sweeping it free of debris and already there were people on the ice, young and old, competent and novice. There were friends of Rolands there, who came over to speak to him, asking him if he intended to enter for the championship.
Im a little rusty, he said, laughing. But why not? Then, turning to take Margarets hand, he asked, May I present you to Mistress Donnington, who is staying at the Manor with us and is shortly to become my wife?