A Fateful Wind (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

The day of the wedding dawned with the sun streaming across a blue cloudless sky, painting the moorland in a myriad of golden amber hues. The Penworthy cottage escalated into a state of frenzied commotion when Tamzin and her brood of children, followed rather begrudgingly by her thin faced hen-pecked husband, entered at the first cock’s crow.

“Everyone up!” Tamzin ordered bossily. “We’ve a lot to do.”

Jenna rolled over in her small bedroom. She felt as though she hadn’t slept a wink, tossing and turning until at last she fell into an uneasy slumber. She lay back against the pillow, listening to the sound of her sister’s voice down below and looked around her small bedroom. Sadly, it occurred to her this would be the last time she slept here in this little room. Tonight she would share a bed, for the first time, with Trystan in the little cottage that would now be her marital home. She felt pensive at the thought of making love to him. How could she call it making love when she felt no love toward him? Optimistically, she replayed Karenza’s story of how she came to love Billy over time in her mind. Maybe that would happen to her. Over time she would come to love Trystan as much as her sister loved Billy.

Tamzin knocked on the door and barged in, handing Jenna a cup of hot tea.

“I could do with something a little stronger.” Jenna sat up in the bed and taking the hot cup of tea in her hands.

“Dutch courage I suppose,” Tamzin chided.

“How is father this morning?”

“He is still tired, but feeling much better. He will be well enough to walk you down the aisle, but we must make sure he doesn’t stay too late at the reception and tire himself out unduly.”

Jenna nodded, drinking the strong sweet tea. It felt good as its warmth filled her body. “It’s a beautiful day.”

Tamzin smiled and seated herself on the bed next to her sister. “It’s your wedding day!” She smiled, pride brimming from her eyes. “And you are feeling better about everything…?”

“I am. This is the right thing to do. I have been foolish about everything.”

“Did you hear from Sir Jack?” Tamzin ventured.

Jenna nodded and pulled the locket out from under her nightshirt. With a sigh, she showed it to her older sister, looking for any signs of guilt or embarrassment. “He returned the locket. This sorry episode is over and I don’t wish to be reminded of it.”

Tamzin’s face burned crimson. “Just as well. That locket is an expensive item. Better on your neck than his. Well, just as you like, I won’t mention his name again, only I think you did the right thing and made the best decision.”

Jenna looked away. She may well be making the right decision, but why didn’t it feel right. Why did everything feel so wrong and rushed?

As the hour of noon approached, the hour when the small parish church would be filled with friends and relatives of both the Penworthy and Trezies families, Jenna hesitated outside the cottage, ready to make the short walk to the chapel with her father and sisters.

“You know, father” Tamzin noted. “I wanted a bridesmaid at my wedding. Do you not remember? Only to be told it couldn’t be afforded! Then comes Jenna, the youngest and most spoiled, and lo and behold she is allowed one. Life can be so unfair!” She looked over at Karenza and winked.

Mr. Penworthy smiled at his youngest daughter. The color returned to his cheeks and the cough subsiding, at least for the time being. “Are we ready ladies?” He linked Jenna’s arm through his waiting for Karenza to lift up the hem of Jenna’s ivory silk brocade dress.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Jenna answered, her stomach a blaze with nerves.

Her father patted her hand. “Pay attention, Jenna, for this day will fly by.”

Jenna nodded apprehensively as they began to make their way up toward the chapel, the sunlight beaming down warm and strong. They stood outside the wooden doors of the church. Jenna reflected on the last time she came here, the day she first felt Jack’s lips upon hers. She placed her hand on the grainy wood, remembering how he blocked her from leaving, the closeness of his body filling her with a desire she never felt before. She tried in vain to swallow the lump forming in her throat. She stiffened as she heard the organist strike the keys, indicating time for them to proceed down the aisle.

Karenza lifted her veil and kissed her sympathetically on the cheek, squeezing her hand “Everything will be fine, dearest sister,” she whispered, replacing the veil and handing Jenna her small bridal bouquet.

“I’m ready.” Jenna wrapped her arm tighter through her father’s. As they entered the small church filled to the brim with happy well wishers, she saw Trystan standing next to the altar. Tears threatened to overwhelm her as her eyes played tricks on her and Trystan’s face momentarily replaced with Jack’s. She walked down the aisle, smiling to the onlookers as though she were an actress merely playing a part. She passed the pew where Jack had knelt, watching her as she prayed tearfully to her mother. Slowly, they moved closer and closer toward the altar. She fought the urge every step of the way to turn and run far away from everything that was happening in her life.

After what seemed like an eternity they reached the altar, her father unhooking her arm from his and placing it through Trystan’s. In a dreamlike daze, she handed her bouquet to Karenza and listened intently as the priest began the sermon.

The words rolled over her like waves. She neither listened, nor dared to breathe. She heard herself answer, "I do," like a robot, amazed she knew when or where to say the words. She swallowed hard as she felt the coldness of the brass ring placed upon her finger. She felt the lace veil being lifted from her face, felt Trystan’s face close to hers, his lips touching hers. She felt herself kissing him back, her hand mechanically reaching up to smooth his cheek. She heard the noise of the parishioners clapping and cheering like a dull roar in the background as the priest pronounced them man and wife. She saw herself walking out of the church into the bright sunlight once more, this time as a married woman, where crowds of well wishers threw rice over them. It all seemed as though she were in a daze, playing a role.

But this was it. It happened. She was married. Mrs. Trystan Trezies, Not Mrs. Jack Bartholomew as she once wished.

* * * *

After the ceremony, the wedding guests enthusiastically walked over to the village hall where a fine spread had been laid on by Tamzin and Mr. Penworthy. There were many pleased comments over what a fine wedding Mr. Penworthy gave his youngest, a wedding far too lavish for a tin miner’s daughter. “Still…” several of the old village women mused, “I suppose it is to make up for her mother not being here.”

Trystan and Jenna stayed behind at the chapel to sign the parish registry in the vestry office with Karenza and Mr. Penworthy as witnesses to the marriage. Trystan picked up the pen ready to sign an ‘x’ above his name and watched as Mr. Penworthy witnessed. “This should have been a job for my brother to do. This day has been perfect so far. The only sad thing is the absence of my dear brother to see me on the happiest day of my life.”

Mr. Penworthy patted him on the back. “Australia is far away. I would not give up hope of hearing news from him. I am sure it takes any form of communication a long time to reach our shores.”

Trystan shook his head. “It has been over a year and a half Mr. Penworthy. We should have received news by now.”

Jenna took his hand in hers, thinking it a particularly wife like thing to do. “Don’t let it ruin your happiness on this day, Trystan. I am sure no matter where he is, he is thinking of you.”

Trystan gazed at her fondly. She looked the very epitome of beauty. Her dark hair styled in a French curl, tendrils waving around her face, accentuating her long shapely neck. The waistline of the silk brocade dress was adorned in small mother of pearl buttons, Lady Emmeline’s small blue brooch secured at the base of the curving neckline. Her dainty hands were encased in fine lace gloves, the brass wedding ring visible through the fragile material. He felt a surge of pride as he gazed at his new wife, excitement of their first night together filling his stomach with nervous butterflies.

After the signing ceremony took place, the small group made their way to the village hall where Tamzin’s eldest son greeted them. Dramatically and with great flourish, he announced their arrival to the guests, who cheered as the new couple entered the hall. Jenna stood aghast as she surveyed the decorations lining the small stone building. Tamzin had covered every corner with fresh flowers. Each table held a magnificent centerpiece of white roses, accented with yellow daisies. The subtle contrast of the two added a feeling of casual elegance. Karenza and Tamzin, with the help of several family friends, threw together a banquet feast of different cold meats, cheeses, pies, pasties, roast beef and a roasted suckling pig. The middle of the banquet table held the most amazing wedding cake Jenna ever saw in her life. Made up of four tiers and covered with ivory silken royal icing there were delicate pink rose petals scattered across. Atop the cake, Tamzin iced a replica of the Cornish flag, the white cross on the black background standing out proudly. “Just a little bit of humor.” Tamzin laughed, as Jenna blinked back the overwhelming tears of gratitude.

“Thank you for this.” She beamed. “How did you manage to do it all?”

“It was nothing.”

Jenna wiped a tear from her eye. “I will never forget this.”

Tamzin sniffed uncomfortably. “Go on and enjoy yourself. It’s your day to shine!”

Jenna was interrupted by several guests offering their congratulations, words of wisdom for a happy marriage and tokens of good will. She looked to where her father sat, tiredness crossing his face. She walked to him and seated herself on a nearby chair.

“Are you well, father?”

“I’m fine. Just tired…tired and sad.”

“Sad?”

“Aye. My youngest daughter, the last to flee the nest. I’m sad to see you go, but happy at the same time. 'Tis an odd mixture of emotion.”

“But, papa,” she laughed. “I’m only a few doors away. It’s not like I’m moving to the other side of the world.”

Her father nodded. “I know, but it won’t be the same. Oh, listen to me, I sound like a spoilt child! What I mean to say is, I’m proud of you, Jenna, and I’m sorry to see you go.”

Jenna wrapped her arms around her father “I love you. Now, you be sure to let us know when you’re tired and need to go home. I don’t want you overdoing it. You’re still not over this cold, remember?”

“I will. Now, I think we have much eating to do.”

* * * *

The drink flowed as the food platters were cleaned off, people rubbing their swollen bellies and groaning at having eaten so much. Strong ale and cider filled everyone’s tankards. There was much revelry and laughter as the local band took to the stage, their fiddles ringing out country dancing reels so that everyone took to the makeshift dance floor in front of the stage, old and young alike. Mr. Penworthy kept up the harried pace until, feeling as if he could not go a second longer, he hushed the band. Taking to the stage, he offered up a toast to his daughter and new son in law. There was not a dry eye in the room as he spoke of his love for Jenna and the sorrow he felt that her mother could not be here to see the fine and beautiful woman she had grown into. The well wishers launched in a hearty round of applause as he left the stage, Billy offering to walk him home to his bed. He stayed long enough to dance one reel with his daughter and, after watching Trystan whirl her around the dance floor for the traditional bridal dance, left for the solitude of his home.

The wedding party lasted until the wee hours of the night, until every barrel was drunk dry. As the clock struck midnight, the wedding party launched into a loud song of cheers, as a very tired and very drunk Trystan led his wife up to the stage.

“Thank you all for coming and helping us celebrate,” he slurred, his voice thick with ale. “And now it is time for me to take my wife home.”

The crowd cheered, several of Trystan’s mining peers reveling in the saucy undertones. He turned to kiss Jenna. Her stomach retched at the strong smell of alcohol on his breath. As they made their way to the door, pushing through the throng of merry partiers, she stepped aside, pulling Karenza in close.

“Is it normal for a man to drink so much?” she asked, wide eyed and feeling very shocked.

Karenza fell into fits of laughter “It’s his wedding day, Jenna, although I don’t think he’ll be much use to you tonight.”

Jenna raised her eyebrows quizzically, having no idea what on earth her sister was talking about. It seemed to her as though everyone drank too much. She looked around to find Tamzin. Surely she would still be sober, but much to her chagrin she saw her sister emptying the remains of a large tankard of cider into her mouth.
Good God, has everyone lost their minds
? she thought as she left the village halls, Trystan’s arm drooping over her shoulder. A sudden clap of thunder loomed across the night sky. Trystan leaned in, slurring something inaudible in her ear and leaned heavily into her. Jenna had to use all her strength to make him stand up straight.

“Trystan, you’re drunk,” she admonished.

“Yes, drunk, my dear wife! Is that so terrible that a man should drink on his wedding day? Don’t be such a prude, Jenna. If a man can’t get drunk on his wedding night, when can he?” Trysan began to sing a song, his slurred voice ringing out through the balmy night air, sending him into fits of laughter. “We’re in for a storm?” He stopped abruptly in the country lane, as a second clap of thunder roared overhead. He squeezed her waist and planted a huge sloppy kiss on her cheek. “Best get you home to bed before the rain sets in.”