Begun by Time (16 page)

Like a wedding ring.

…

They had Rob Roy cocktails at the American Bar in the Savoy and then were seated for supper at the hotel’s River Restaurant, their table at a window overlooking the Thames.

Catherine delighted in her diamond ring, and Arthur laughed as she flashed it toward the
maître d’,
waiters, busboys, and nearby customers. After two servings of Oysters Rockefeller, they passed on supper and shared a bottle of Winston Churchill’s famous Pol Roger champagne instead. Arthur said it was high time he tasted it, and besides, the occasion warranted the expense. Catherine found it quite delicious, while Arthur gave her a wink and quipped that
Moët & Chandon
would continue to be his preferred beverage. They laughed at his jest, remembering their simple childhoods in Exeter and Stratford, so far from the trappings of high society.

The cab ride back to his flat was filled with sensual expectation. He’d held her hand the entire ride, his touch unleashing an intense heat each time his fingers made the slightest move. Occasionally, he would lift her hand and feather-kiss the inside of her wrist, giving her delicious shivers of desire. By the time they arrived at his doorstep, Catherine’s body throbbed with yearning.

He kissed her upon reaching the front door. “Darling,” he whispered. “I have something I must discuss with you.”

She drew back and frowned, suddenly aware of how serious he looked.

“What is it, Arthur? Is something wrong?”

“No, love. There’s nothing wrong
—
far from it
—
but we do need to talk.” He opened the door, took her by the hand, and led her to the sofa. “Please, sit down.”

She felt a sense of calm as she gazed into his loving eyes. She could tell he wanted to take care of her. That was what this was about.

He sat beside her and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “You are so beautiful,” he began, then hesitated, clearly at odds about what to say. “You see… We were quite, er, distracted last night. It’s my fault. I did not protect you. Do you understand what I mean?”

Condoms, he’s talking about condoms!
Catherine thought. Poppy had whispered a few details of married life to her. Catherine’s own mum had been silent about such things, having retained a Victorian sensibility on the subject of birth control.

“I understand what you mean,” she said.

“We shall be married soon, but if I… If last night… Well, let me say I should very much like a baby.”

She blushed.

He kissed her lips. “If it didn’t happen last night, then the timing shall be wholly up to you. We’ll try when you are ready to become a mother.”

She nodded. “I think I should like to wait at least a year,” she said. “My friend Poppy says it’s quite nice to be a couple at first, to enjoy life together without babies.”

“Yes, she has a point. Whilst a child would be a joy, it will be wonderful to have you all to myself.”

He rose and held out his hand to her. She took it and stood, melting before his passionate gaze.

With a kiss, he swept her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom.

…

Arthur sat with Catherine in his kitchen, eating scrambled eggs and toast at midnight. She looked adorable, her hair mussed up, an impish grin on her face as she wolfed down her food.

I love her
, he thought.
I don’t want to ruin her mood.
How in bloody hell am I going to broach the subject of Brandon again?

He knew he must inform her about James Findley and his ghost theory. With everything that had happened in the past few days, with all the wonderful distractions, he hadn’t discussed anything about his meeting with Findley, and she’d not asked about it, either.

Well, pluck up your courage, old chap,
he told himself.
There’s no time like the present.

“Catherine,” he said.

She looked up, smiling.

“As you know, I met with a man who had information about Jonnie.”

Her face fell. “Yes.” She hesitated, then said in a small voice, “I quite pushed it out of my mind. Please, tell me what happened.”

He reached for her hand. “Are you certain, love? We could talk about this some other time.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s all right. I want to know.”

He kissed her hand, then told her everything Findley had revealed to him that night at Ely Court. At the end, he said, “If you don’t mind, I would like to continue investigating this.”

“I don’t mind.” She sighed. “I keep remembering Jonnie’s father, Nigel Brandon, and how grief-stricken he was after the vanishing. He died never knowing what happened to his son. And I believe it was the not knowing that truly broke his heart.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Arthur, do you believe Jonnie is dead?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “How can anyone possibly know without proof?” He rose and came around to her, then bent down and kissed her brow. She stood and nestled into his arms.

He whispered into her hair, “Who’s to say what Tom Lloyd and James Findley saw? There’s no real evidence as to exactly what happened to Jonathan, and no body, yet I do believe something untoward occurred, else he would have stayed with you. I can’t believe he abandoned you. How could anyone willingly leave you?”

She hugged him. “Thank you, Arthur. I’ve no idea what happened to Jonnie, but I know he didn’t walk away from me, or his father. It would be so unlike him. It’s just not possible he could be so cruel. He was a good man.”

He held her close until she drew back and looked into his eyes. “Arthur, what would I have done, had you not found me?”

“It’s the same for me, darling,” he answered. “I can’t imagine life without you. That day at the palace gates… I fell for you instantly. I was yours from the moment I saw you.”

“Yes, dear heart,” she softly said. “And you are the love of my life.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

10 January 1948, St. Bride
’
s Church, Fleet Street, London

The weeks had flown by, the publication of the wedding banns done, the Christmas season come and gone. Ah, the new year was well begun!

Catherine stood before the altar in the chapel of the crypt in St. Bride’s Church, about to take her vows in an evening ceremony. The church had suffered extensive damage during the Blitz, but this lower level was intact. The whitewashed, candlelit walls glowed with an aura of romance.

She wore an elegant suit of ivory satin and Chantilly lace, a matching hat with a delicate face veil perfectly complementing her outfit. She held a wedding bouquet of white roses, the scent delicate and mingling with the powdery fragrance of her Shalimar.

Arthur stood at her side, handsome in a new dark gray suit, his eyes shining with happiness.

I love you!
she thought with a smile.

Catherine handed her bouquet to Poppy, her matron of honor, and then glanced back at their seated guests. She smiled at her mum and dad, at Aunt Vivi and Arthur’s Uncle Herbert and Aunt Eleanor. Poppy’s husband was there, too, along with Mirin and Susan and their families. To Catherine’s delight, dear Angus McDuff had journeyed all the way from Scotland to attend. Arthur’s friends attended as well, chief among them Clive Wakefield, who stood beside him as best man. Catherine made a mental picture of the moment, vowing to remember this always, everyone joyful and content.

“Shall we begin?” the vicar asked, but then he surprised Catherine by giving her a big wink. He looked beyond her, toward the entrance of the chapel.

What in the world
…
?
As if on cue, Arthur and everyone else joined him by facing the doors.

What
’
s going on?
Puzzled, Catherine looked to Arthur for an answer, but he merely gave her a mysterious smile.

Suddenly, the doors opened, revealing three men. One wore a dark suit, while the others had red jackets. The men in red came inside and held open the doors, waiting for someone who stood just beyond Catherine’s line of sight.

She glanced back at Arthur. “I don’t understand—”

“Just wait.” His gaze sparkled. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy, love. It is a wonderful surprise, just for you.”

Heart racing in expectation, Catherine got the surprise of her life as a beaming Princess Elizabeth and Prince Philip walked into the chapel, followed by Princess Margaret and two ladies-in-waiting!

As everyone bowed and curtsied to the royals, Arthur took Catherine’s trembling hand and led her away from the altar. Elizabeth and Philip came forward to greet them, along with Princess Margaret.

Elizabeth wore a suit of shimmering blue silk, which matched the color of her striking eyes. Catherine felt at a loss of what to do or say, but then remembered herself and curtsied to the crown princess, her husband, and sister.

Elizabeth smiled. “You are such a beautiful bride.”

“Thank you, Your…Your Royal Highness,” Catherine sputtered. “But how…?” She glanced back and forth between Elizabeth and Arthur. “I can’t imagine how—”

“I saw you at the gates of Buckingham Palace,” Elizabeth said. “I watched the proposal. Despite what you may think, we don’t often have such wonderful events happening at the gates. It took some doing, but my people eventually tracked you down. You see, Arthur Howard,” she glanced at him with a twinkle in her eye, “has a few well-placed friends, one of whom is an elderly gentleman I’m rather fond of…”

Who
—
?
Catherine’s eyes suddenly widened in disbelief. “Churchill? Gosh, will he be attending, too?”

Everyone laughed, and Elizabeth merrily said, “No, but he and Lady Spencer-Churchill did ask that I convey their fondest felicitations, along with a present for the bride and groom on the occasion of their wedding.” She glanced at her husband and sister. “Speaking of which, shall we take our places so that the ceremony can commence?”

Arthur led the still-trembling Catherine back to the altar, while the royals seated themselves in the front row, near George and Lily. The other guests took this as their cue and sat with a rustling of silk, satin, and organdy.

The vicar cleared his throat and began his welcoming speech to the congregation, followed by the opening prayer and declarations.

“Catherine Ellen Hastings, will you take Arthur Bertrand Howard to be your husband?”

The air was charged with excitement, the wedding vows a happy whirl of sparkle, color, and sound, until Arthur placed a simple gold wedding band on Catherine’s finger. At that instant, the world stilled in crystalline perfection, the moment captured by her heart, never to be forgotten. The circle was complete, their love eternal.

“I therefore proclaim that they are husband and wife…”

Catherine thrilled at the vicar’s words. It was done!

Arthur lifted her veil. “Catherine Howard, you’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”

Her married name, used for the first time by her handsome husband.

Arthur kissed her, his lips touching hers gently at first, swiftly changing to wild abandon, his joy apparent as he swept her back and dipped her low.

He righted her and grinned. “Shall we?” he said, tucking her arm in his. They faced the royals and made obeisance. After Catherine and Arthur signed the marriage register, they happily proceeded toward the doors, acknowledging their family and guests, who showered them with white and pink rose petals as they left the chapel.

…

Catherine and Arthur stood together in their honeymoon suite at the Savoy, about to open the wedding gifts from Elizabeth and Philip and the Churchills. They had saved these for a private unveiling, the other gifts awaiting them at her parents’ home in Stratford. While Arthur unwrapped the present from the former prime minister and his wife, Catherine ran her finger along a red satin ribbon on the royal gift box, which was wrapped in gorgeous golden paper emblazoned with the princess’s crest.

“Beautiful,” she said. “Seems a shame to tamper with it.”

“Well, see here!” Arthur exclaimed as he removed tissue paper from the inside of the Churchill box. “Cigars! The PM’s own brand!” He removed the cigar box and added, “Ah, there’s a bit more. Something for you.” Grinning, he held forth a boxed bottle of Pol Roger champagne.

“Smashing! I should like some of that tonight,” Catherine said as she opened the royal gift and gasped at a large, sterling silver loving cup, nestled in a bed of red velvet. The cup had been etched with an elaborate A&C.
Beautiful, fit for a queen!
She lifted it from the velvet cushioning
—
heavy!
—
and admired it. The silver work on the handles was particularly stunning, an intricate depiction of flowering vines. Turning the cup around, she saw Elizabeth’s royal crest had been placed on the side opposite their initials.

Arthur whistled. “That looks old,” he said. “Perhaps Georgian?” He took it and hefted it, then gave her a wicked grin. “What in God’s name is one supposed to do with this? A doorstop, perhaps? Or, shall I fill it with champagne? We could get quite a bender on if we dared drink that much!”

“Oh, you!” Laughing, she fell into his arms and kissed him with passion.

After a long moment, he drew back and pretended to gasp for air. “Mrs. Howard, I do believe I shan’t need to get you drunk tonight.”

She gave a giggle. “Indeed, no, Mr. Howard,” she replied, glancing at the bed. “I am more than willing.”

He pulled her close, his expression grown serious. “Catherine, I will cherish my days with you, now and forever.”

Her mood shifted, and she grew sober as she reflected on how lucky she had been that day at Buckingham Palace. She remembered the grief and turmoil she’d experienced before that point in time, and all the subsequent anguish she’d felt until she finally realized her future lay with Arthur. The past was behind her, most certainly, but she would allow herself one last moment of reflection as a way of saying good-bye.

She closed her eyes and saw a man with blue-black hair and dark-blue eyes, her memories of him filled with gentle warmth and a single, fervent wish.

Wherever you are
, she thought,
I pray you will also find love. True love
.

Catherine opened her eyes, then raised herself on tiptoe and kissed Arthur tenderly, before whispering, “Yes, my darling husband. I will also cherish my days with you, now and forever.”