duke but irritation. I do not think I have ever met any man who so annoyed me. That is not love. Even with my inexperience I am wise enough to know that. I don't know why I keep thinking of him, but I will not do it any longer.
Chapter 10
George Spencer-Kimberly and Miss Elizabeth Bowen were married on the thirtieth of October. It was a bright and crisp afternoon. The villagers had gathered outside St. Anne's to catch a glimpse of the bridal party. It was almost like family, for the Bowens had lived in Farminster for eleven generations, and there were several of those standing in the crowd who had not only seen Betsy Bowen grow up, but her father, Sir Ronald, as well.
It was a small affair with only close friends and nearby family invited. Almost everyone was known to the villagers. The bridegroom arrived on horseback with Mr. St. John and the duke. The ducal coach stopped directly before the church path to debark the old dowager, quite regal in burgundy velvet trimmed in beaver. Her snowy hair was piled high and had two fine plumes in it. Miss Spencer-Kimberly followed the dowager, quite pretty in dark green velvet, her ringlets bobbing. But then, to the onlookers' surprise, an open sedan chair was brought up to the coach and the young duchess was helped out and into the conveyance that was then carried into the church.
'She don't look good,' an anonymous voice in the crowd said.
The dowager's sharp eyes swept the crowd for the speaker, but suddenly all was quiet. Linking her arm into Aurora's, they proceeded into St. Anne's. Inside, the church was filled with an air of expectancy. The midafternoon sun streamed through the stained glass windows, casting multicolored shadows on the oaken pews and stone floors. Fine white linen and autumn flowers adorned the altar with its gold candlesticks containing pure beeswax tapers. The two women proceeded to the front ducal pew and settled themselves. Calandra's sedan chair had been set in front of the pew so she might see everything from the best possible vantage point. St. John joined them, a quick smile on his lips as he greeted Cally, the dowager, and Aurora. The duke was to act as George's best man.
Lady Elsie nodded to them from across the aisle. Her eyes were red from weeping, and she clutched a sodden handkerchief. Her look was so woeful that the dowager leaned over, whispering softly to Aurora, 'You would think her daughter were being forced into marriage with a monster, the silly woman!' Before Aurora might reply, however, the organ began to play a stately anthem, and the congregation arose to watch as the wedding ceremony began.
From the sacristy the bridegroom and the duke came forth to await the bride. Down the aisle tripped Misses Isabelle, Suzanne, Caroline, and Maryanne Bowen in yellow and white striped gowns, wreaths of late yellow roses in their hair. Now came Master William Bowen, aged ten, escorting the bride, who was radiant in her creamy taffeta gown with painted blue forget-me-nots, her hair piled atop her head, dressed with silk flowers and strings of pearls and lightly powdered. And awaiting them before the altar with George and the duke was the bride's father, who would marry the couple.
The ceremony was elegant yet simple. It was only the second wedding she had ever attended, Aurora thought as she watched her brother and his glowing bride. The church was peaceful, and it all seemed so right. How different it was from Cally's wedding in the hallway of the plantation house on that long-ago early spring day. Perhaps with God's blessing George's marriage would be a happier one than Cally's. Aurora hoped so with all her heart, but then, she knew Betsy and her brother would be happy. They already were, and it could only get better between them as the years went by because they were so well suited.
The newlyweds came down the aisle, smiling, the service over, their union formalized. They walked from the church to the cheers and good wishes of the villagers, the rest of the wedding party, and the guests following behind them to the vicarage, which was located on the other side of the churchyard. Aurora walked next to her sister, who despite her sedan chair looked exceedingly uncomfortable.
Are you all right?' Aurora asked.
'How could I be all right with this creature inside me?' Cally grumbled irritably. 'Having to sit like this is horrible, and I can only imagine that I look a fright!'
'You can recline on a settee at the vicarage,' Aurora said soothingly. 'George and Betsy are so happy that you made the effort to come to the wedding, Cally.'
'Why does George have to leave us?' Cally whined. 'I don't want him to go, Aurora. I am afraid without George.'
'That is so much nonsense, Cally,' her sister chided her. 'You were without George all those months before we arrived in England. And you know why George is going. He must run the plantation. Besides, do you want Mama left alone forever on St. Timothy?'
'I wish I could go with him,' Cally whispered. 'I wish it were two years ago, that Papa were alive, and we had never heard of Valerian Hawkesworth! If I had only known, Aurora, I would not have agreed to marry him. What if this creature I carry is not the son he wants? Then it will begin all over again, and I do not believe I could bear it!' Her voice had begun to have a hysterical edge to it.
'Calm yourself, Cally,' Aurora said sternly. 'This is our brother's wedding day. It is a happy time, and I will not have you spoiling it with an attack of the vapors! You will put a smile on your face, and you will speak politely with all who greet you. If you do not, I shall convince St. John, and believe me it will take little effort, to elope immediately, and I will leave you! You will not enjoy being alone with your dark thoughts and bad temper, I promise you!'
Calandra's defiance crumbled in the face of her sister's threat. She forced a wan smile onto her face. 'You are hard,' she murmured.
The front and rear drawing rooms of the vicarage were decorated with autumn flowers and branches of colored leaves and evergreens. Here the bride and groom received their guests and the many congratulations offered them. In the dining room the table was set with antique Irish linen and lace, silver candelabra, a silver bowl of late roses, and the bride's cake in the center of the table. There was champagne served from the duke's own cellars. Sir Ronald, a man of modest means, was extremely grateful for the Hawkesworths' generosity. A usually reserved man, he was expansive today in his delight over his daughter's excellent marriage. Betsy's union now joined his family in a tenuous marital connection with the Hawkesworths. This meant that he might seek just a bit higher for his other girls.
The wedding cake was cut, served, and eaten. The toasts were drunk to the couple's good fortune and happiness. Betsy discreetly hurried upstairs to remove her bridal finery and get into her traveling costume, aided by her sisters and her still-weepy mother. George was also nowhere to be seen, having gone to change from his satin breeches into something more practical for the road. The young couple would spend the next few days upon the road, making their way to London, and the vessel that would take them to St. Timothy.
Again Valerian Hawkesworth had shown an openhanded munificence. George and his bride would travel in the duke's large traveling coach. A baggage wagon would follow, overseen by Wickham and Betsy's maid. The newlyweds would spend three days in London at Farminster House before boarding the
Dressed for travel, George Spencer-Kimberly came to bid his two sisters farewell. Cally could not help weeping. 'I feel that I will never see you again,' she sobbed piteously, but he reassured her fear as he always had since they were children.
