Kate (32 page)

The congregation had been gathering since 8:45
A.M
., and every one of the guests had to go through rigorous security checks. As well as being scanned by metal detectors, they had been asked not to take photographs in the church and to arrive in plenty of time so that they could be seated before the VIPs arrived. Given that this was a royal wedding, there was a hierarchy among the guests, and celebrities were at the bottom of the pecking order.

Surprisingly, there was no seating plan in the nave, where most of the congregation was assigned pews. Among the sea of brightly colored outfits and designer hats were a number of familiar faces. David Beckham, who had worked with William
on England's unsuccessful bid for the soccer World Cup, was proudly sporting his Order of the British Empire, and his heavily pregnant wife, Victoria Beckham, showcased a navy dress from her latest collection. The film director Guy Ritchie, who, the week before the wedding, had been revealed as a distant cousin of Kate's, arrived with his wife. Kate and William had also invited Joss Stone, whom they had gotten to know after she sang at the Diana memorial concert. Sir Elton John, who seemed to be struggling with the heat from the overhead lights, was accompanied by his husband. Tara Palmer-Tomkinson, an old family friend, caused a stir by dressing head to toe in electric blue. There was much pointing and waving, greeting and air kissing while everyone kept an eye on the great west door to see who would arrive next.

The Prime Minister and senior cabinet ministers had been instructed to take their pews ahead of the visiting heads of state and foreign royals, and they were seated in the stalls behind the choir. Whereas Prime Minister David Cameron was appropriately attired in his morning suit, his wife, Samantha, attracted some criticism from television commentators for choosing not to wear a hat. She was an anomaly, as most of the well-turned-out guests had heeded the formal dress code and opted for hats.

Certainly the visiting royals and the extended members of the British royal family did not disappoint in the hat department. They knew what was expected of a royal wedding, and as they piled out of the minibuses, which had escorted them from Buckingham Palace, there was an explosion of color, feathers, and netting. William's cousin Zara Phillips, who arrived with her fiancé, rugby player Mike Tindall, had opted for an oversized black hat that she struggled with as she
stepped out of the rather unglamorous coach. Princess Beatrice, who was driven in a car with her sister, at the insistence of their father, Prince Andrew, had taken a risk with an extraordinary creation by milliner Philip Treacy, which was picked to pieces by the fashion brigade watching with eagle eyes and commenting live on the arrivals. With its bizarre and complex loops and tentacle-like flourishes, it was compared to an octopus and a giant pretzel.

The sight of kings and queens descending en masse from silver buses was something to behold, but they didn't appear to mind, and as they took their seats in the north and south stalls, they, together with crown princes and princesses, earls and countesses, sheiks and sultans of countries around the world, found themselves seated with many young guests. Over 1,000 of the 1,900-strong congregation were William and Kate's friends, and they had been seated in prime pews. These were friends from all aspects of their past and present, including childhood friends, school friends, university friends, and colleagues from work. There were girlfriends and boyfriends from their past, among them William's first love, Rose Farquhar; Arabella Musgrave and Jecca Craig, as well as Kate's ex-boyfriend from St. Andrews, Rupert Finch, and Harry Blakelock, the boy who had broken her heart when she was a schoolgirl. Kate had invited a significant contingent from Marlborough, including Emilia and Alice and their old headmaster, Edward Gould. Clearly fond of some of her former teachers, she had also included David Gee, her favorite mathematics teacher at St. Andrews Prep, as well as her former headmasters, Robert Acheson and Jeremy Snow, who were all surprised to be seated alongside royals, representatives of the church, and members of the cabinet.

The mother of the bride arrived with James shortly after the crowned heads of state and, as protocol required, before Charles and Camilla, and Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip. Dressed in a pale sky-blue Catherine Walker dress suit, Carole looked youthful and elegant as she smiled at some of the faces she recognized in the congregation. On the arm of her only son, she made her way to the high altar, followed at a discreet distance by the family's bodyguard, Bond-Gunning.

The Middletons' guests were seated in the north lantern and had clear views of the sacrarium, where the couple would exchange their vows. This was a wedding in which everyone was to be treated as equals, so seated immediately opposite the royal family were Michael's brothers, nieces, and nephews, along with some cousins and Carole's elderly cousin Jean. “I was the only member of Carole's side of the family to be invited,” said Mrs. Harrison. “It was one of the most special days of my life and quite an incredible experience to be sitting in the Abbey with so many people. I felt truly honored.”

Carole and Michael's guest list included trusted and loyal friends who had touched their lives over the years. There were also more recent friends from Mustique, among them their yoga teacher, Gregory Allen, and his partner, Elizabeth Saint; the island's tennis coach, Richard Schaffer; and Basil Charles, the owner of Basil's Bar. Carole's brother, Gary, had a second-row seat with his eight-year-old daughter, Tallulah, and his ex-wife, Luan. Dressed in top hat and tails, he was the model of discretion and generously swapped seats with Camilla's daughter, Laura, so that she could have a better view of her daughter walking in the bridal procession. Carole and Michael had not forgotten the loyalty of the residents and shopkeepers in Bucklebury who had protected them from the
media and respected their privacy during Kate and William's courtship. The local pub landlord along with the postman and the village butcher, Martin Fiddler, were all seated. “It was amazing to be invited. My wife and I have known Carole since she was a young single woman,” said Mr. Fiddler. “We have seen her married and watched the children grow up, and to see Catherine walk up the aisle was so very special. We had a good position in the abbey, which made us feel even more touched. We had amazing views and could see everything. The earlier you got there, the better seats you got, because there wasn't a seating plan. Carole and Michael coped brilliantly with the pressure—they all did. Mike looked like the proudest man in the world walking up the aisle, and Carole looked stunning, and I remember thinking how composed she was. I imagine there were lots of nerves and possibly a stiff drink before the service.”

Charles and Camilla, dressed in a pretty pale-blue dress, were the last members of the royal family to arrive, ahead of the Queen and Prince Philip. Pristine in his Royal Navy Number One dress outfit, Charles was greeted by the Dean of Westminster and made sure that everything was in place ahead of the bride's arrival.

The crowds roared their approval as the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh pulled up at the abbey and a trumpet fanfare sounded. The Queen, who had just celebrated her eighty-fifth birthday, was dressed in a dazzling primrose-yellow dress that reflected the spirit of the nation and the unexpected spring sunshine. According to courtiers, she had been in a joyful mood for days. She is known to love weddings and was delighted that her grandson was now settling down
with the woman he loved. The courtiers said she was “practically skipping with joy” before she departed the Palace.

To the rousing march from
The Birds
by Charles Hastings Parry, the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh made their stately walk down the red carpet and up to the high altar, led by Charles and Camilla. It was quite a moment in history, Charles walking with the woman he had always loved, in the very same place where Diana's funeral had taken place. It was a scene that many, Charles included, believed might never happen. As Prince Philip walked alongside the Queen, it must have brought back memories of their own wedding day sixty-four years earlier in this, the most holy and sacred abbey in the kingdom. The congregation fell silent as the Queen took her place in the front pew.

At exactly 10:50
A.M
., Kate and her father stepped out of the Goring Hotel. The awning over the threshold made it impossible to see the wedding dress in full. There was a glimpse of lace and plenty of train—6.5 feet, in fact—which had to be carefully piled into the waiting Rolls Royce Phantom. At one point, Michael seemed to be buried in tulle, causing Kate to giggle. She wanted some pictures of this special moment and asked her friend Millie Pilkington, a professional photographer who has known the family for years, to climb into the front seat and take some photographs. As father and daughter passed Buckingham Palace and headed down the Mall to Horse Guards Parade, they waved at the crowds, a sea of red, white, and blue that stretched as far as they could see. Michael took his daughter's hand and turned to smile at her. The eyes of the world were upon them, but in the backseat of the glass-roofed Rolls Royce, it was just Kate and her father sharing a
very special moment. Like any other proud father, this was a moment of huge significance in his life, the first of his children's weddings.

The car pulled up in front of the great west door and Kate stepped out onto the red carpet, her train unfolding like a flower behind her. The collective cheer prompted a smile from the radiant bride. Some of the spectators had camped out for several nights to secure their front-row positions, and this was the moment they had been waiting for. In her glittering tiara and ivory-and-white satin gown, she looked every inch a princess. The train was regal, modest, and incredibly beautiful. The antique Chantilly and English lace bodice that was nipped in at the waist was exquisite, and the dipped neckline a touch daring, but entirely elegant. Commentators compared the gown to Grace Kelly's wedding dress, and only at that moment was it revealed by the Palace that the designer was Sarah Burton. The news was met with much excitement; Burton was one of Britain's most exciting designers at one of the country's most famous fashion houses, and it was seen as a poignant tribute to Alexander McQueen, who had committed suicide a year earlier. Kate had scored an ace; her dress was traditional yet contemporary, timeless but fashion-forward. Fashion editors commended the design as inspired and perfect.

Kate smiled at Pippa, who told her she looked beautiful. So did Pippa. Kate had wanted her younger sister to dress in white, and the fitted bias-cut gown, also designed by Sarah Burton, with its scooped neckline, suggestion of cleavage, and tease of buttons down the back to her bottom, was almost as sensational as Kate's wedding dress. It was typical of Kate's generosity and her self-confidence not only to dress her sister
in white but also to want her to wear such a stunning gown. While Pippa tended to the train, Kate turned around to face the crowds. One day the British people would be her subjects. It was the same thought that had struck Diana, who had paused and waved to the nation, as was expected of royal brides, before she climbed the stairs of St. Paul's Cathedral. But while Diana had seemed full of trepidation, Kate, who was older and more experienced in her role as a royal consort, exuded an amazing sense of confidence and purpose. They were both royal brides, but Kate and Diana, for all the comparisons, were two very different women.

As Pippa made sure every pleat was in place, the little flower girls checked their floral headdresses and held on to their white-rose bouquets. The pages, grinning proudly, took their positions at the back of the bridal procession. Inside the abbey, Sarah Burton and James Pryce were on hand to make any final adjustments. Finally, the church bells that had been tolling since the bridegroom's arrival ceased, and the London Chamber Orchestra played the first chords of Charles Parry's “I Was Glad.” The music filled the great church with the spirit of the occasion. “There was a collective gasp as Kate entered the abbey. I looked up and saw this beautiful silhouette—it was the most special moment,” recalled James Pryce. “Watching her walk up the abbey was just magical. She glided and was breathtakingly beautiful.” William kept his eyes fixed firmly on the altar, but Prince Harry couldn't resist turning around. “She's here. Just wait till you see her!” he said, grinning.

Walking slowly past the avenue of English maple trees and exquisite displays of her favorite lily of the valley, Kate breathed in the sweet scent, remembering to stay calm and focused on the moment. Arms linked with her father, they both
kept their gazes fixed ahead as they walked the 318 feet to the high altar. This was Kate's final journey as a middle-class girl—she would leave the abbey a future Queen. When she reached the altar, William finally turned to face his bride. His eyes widened. “You look beautiful,” he exclaimed. Sensing Michael's nervousness, he cracked a joke. “We're supposed to have just a small family affair,” he whispered to his soon-to-be father-in-law.

With everyone in place, the organ ceased and the congregation fell silent as the service began. It was traditional and beautiful, in keeping with the Anglican faith, and punctuated with the couple's chosen hymns, including “Jerusalem,” one of Princess Diana's favorites. There were nods of encouragement and grins of sheer pleasure between William and Kate, the gentle brushing of hands, and at one point a wink of encouragement.

William had opted not to wear a wedding ring, and as he presented Kate with hers—a simple band made from a piece of Welsh gold that the Queen had given them as an engagement present—he appeared to struggle to get it on, prompting nervous glances from the congregation and a reassuring smile from Kate. When she spoke, her voice was clear and audible. Nerves had gotten the better of Diana, who had muddled Charles's names, but Kate managed “William Arthur Philip Louis” in crystal-clear tones. As they exchanged their vows, their eyes locked. There at the high altar, it really was just the two of them. Amid all the preparations, pomp, and pageantry here, in the House of Kings where thirty-seven kings and queens had been invested since William the Conqueror was crowned on Christmas Day, the union of the future King and Queen of England was taking place. This was living history,
and the wedding, which would be replayed many, many times over the years, was a reminder of the power of the monarchy and the love the country felt for its great and unique establishment. This was a landmark within the century—a marriage that would secure the thousand-year-old lineage of the House of Windsor and move it forward. History was being made, and the future of the monarchy seemed destined to succeed with William and Kate, a perfectly suited bride and groom, pledging their love and commitment to one another in the presence of God.