‘I’ll get it,’ Elizabeth said, and went to the door. A young porter in a smart red uniform handed her a telegram, the eleventh that day. She was about to close the door when he said, ‘I was told to inform you, madam, that this one is important.’
Elizabeth’s first thought was to wonder who could possibly have cancelled at the last moment. She only hoped it wouldn’t mean reorganizing the top table at the reception. She tore open the telegram and read the contents.
‘Who’s it from?’ asked Emma, adjusting the angle of her hat by another inch and wondering if it was perhaps a little too risque.
Elizabeth handed her the telegram. Once Emma had read it, she burst into tears.
‘Many congratulations, darling,’ said her mother, taking a handkerchief out of her handbag and beginning to dry her daughter’s tears. ‘I’d hug you, but I don’t want to crease your dress.’
Once Elizabeth was satisfied that Emma was ready, she spent a moment checking her own outfit in the mirror. Madame Renee had pronounced, ‘You mustn’t outdo your daughter on her big day, but at the same time, you can’t afford to go unnoticed.’ Elizabeth particularly liked the Norman Hartnell hat, even if it was not what the young were calling ‘chic’.
‘Time to leave,’ she declared after one more look at her watch. Emma smiled as she glanced at the going-away outfit she would change into once the reception was over, when she and Harry would travel up to Scotland for their honeymoon. Lord Harvey had offered them Mulgelrie Castle for a fortnight, with the promise that no other member of the family would be allowed within ten miles of the estate during that time and, perhaps more important, Harry could ask for three portions of Highland broth every night, without a suggestion of grouse to follow.
Emma followed her mother out of the suite and along the corridor. By the time she reached the top of the staircase, she felt sure her legs were about to give way. As she descended the stairs, other guests stood aside so that nothing would impede her progress.
A porter held open the front door of the hotel for her, while Sir Walter’s chauffeur stood by the back door of the Rolls so the bride could join her grandfather. As Emma sat down beside him, carefully arranging her dress, Sir Walter placed his monocle in his right eye and declared, ‘You look quite beautiful, young lady. Harry is indeed a most fortunate man.’
‘Thank you, Grandpa,’ she said, kissing him on the cheek. She glanced out of the rear window to see her mother climbing into a second Rolls-Royce, and a moment later the two cars moved off to join the afternoon traffic as they began their sedate journey to the university church of St Mary’s.
‘Is Daddy at the church?’ asked Emma, trying not to sound anxious.
‘Among the first to arrive,’ said her grandfather. ‘I do believe he’s already regretting allowing me the privilege of giving you away.’
‘And Harry?’
‘Never seen him so nervous. But Giles seems to have everything under control, which must be a first. I know he’s spent the last month preparing his best man’s speech.’
‘We’re both lucky to have the same best friend,’ said Emma. ‘You know, Grandpa, I once read that every bride has second thoughts on the morning of her wedding.’
‘That’s natural enough, my dear.’
‘But I’ve never had a second thought about Harry,’ said Emma, as they came to a halt outside the university church. ‘I know we’ll spend the rest of our lives together.’
She waited for her grandfather to step out of the car before she gathered up her dress and joined him on the pavement.
Her mother rushed forward to check Emma’s outfit one last time before she would allow her to enter the church. Elizabeth handed her a small bouquet of pale pink roses as the two bridesmaids, Emma’s younger sister Grace and her school friend Jessica, gathered up the end of the train.
‘You next, Grace,’ said her mother, bending down to unruffle her bridesmaid’s dress.
‘I hope not,’ said Grace, loud enough for her mother to hear.
Elizabeth stepped back and nodded. Two sidesmen pulled open the heavy doors, the sign for the organist to strike up Mendelssohn’s
As Emma stepped into the church, she was taken by surprise to see how many people had travelled to Oxford to share in her happiness. She walked slowly down the aisle on her grandfather’s arm, the guests turning to smile at her as she made her way towards the altar.
She noticed Mr Frobisher sitting next to Mr Holcombe on the right-hand side of the aisle. Miss Tilly, who was wearing quite a daring hat, must have come all the way from Cornwall, while Dr Paget gave her the warmest of smiles. But nothing compared with the smile that appeared on her own face when she spotted Captain Tarrant, head bowed, wearing a morning suit that didn’t quite fit. Harry would be so pleased he had decided to come after all. In the front row sat Mrs Clifton, who had clearly spent some time selecting her outfit because she looked so fashionable. A smile crossed Emma’s lips, but she was surprised and disappointed that her future mother-in-law didn’t turn to look at her as she passed.
And then she saw Harry, standing on the altar steps next to her brother as they waited for the bride. Emma continued up the aisle on the arm of one grandfather, while the other stood bolt upright in the front row, next to her father, who she thought looked a little melancholy. Perhaps he really was regretting his decision not to give her away.
Sir Walter stood to one side as Emma climbed the four steps to join her future husband. She leaned over and whispered, ‘I nearly had a change of heart.’ Harry tried not to grin as he waited for the punch line. ‘After all, scholars of this university cannot be seen to marry beneath themselves.’
‘I’m so proud of you, my darling,’ he said. ‘Many congratulations.’
Giles bowed low in genuine respect, and Chinese whispers broke out among the congregation as the news spread from row to row.
The music stopped, and the college chaplain raised his hands and said, ‘
Emma suddenly felt nervous. She had learnt all the responses by heart but now she couldn’t recall one of them.
‘
Emma tried to concentrate on the chaplain’s words, but she couldn’t wait to escape and be alone with Harry. Perhaps they should have gone up to Scotland the night before and eloped at Gretna Green; so much more convenient for Mulgelrie Castle, she’d pointed out to Harry.
‘
The chaplain paused, to allow a diplomatic period of time to pass before he pronounced the words,
Emma and Harry both swung round to see who could possibly have uttered two such damning words.
The chaplain looked up in disbelief, wondering for a moment if he had misheard, but all over the church, heads were turning as the congregation tried to discover who had made the unexpected intervention. The chaplain had never experienced such a turn of events before, and tried desperately to recall what he was expected to do in the circumstances.
Emma buried her head in Harry’s shoulder, while he searched among the chattering congregation, trying to find out who it was who had caused such consternation. He assumed it must be Emma’s father, but when he looked down at the front row he saw Hugo Barrington, white as a sheet, was also trying to see who had brought the ceremony to a premature halt.
The Reverend Styler had to raise his voice to be heard above the growing clamour. ‘Would the gentleman who has objected to this marriage taking place please make himself known.’
A tall, upright figure stepped out into the aisle. Every eye remained fixed on Captain Jack Tarrant as he made his way up to the altar before coming to a halt in front of the chaplain. Emma clung on to Harry, fearful he was about to be prised away from her.
