Authors: Lisa Valdez

Patience (52 page)

BOOK: Patience

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But enough about Lord and Lady Danforth. The exciting couple of the moment continues to be Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Morgan Hawkmore. I told you I would procure the details of their very private wedding, and so I have—and from none other than the aunt of the bride! Yes, Henrietta, I met her entirely by chance when I happened to run into Lord Rivers and her at the tea parlor in St. James. So here you are, my dear, practically a firsthand account ~

The couple was married in the tiny chapel of their new home at Gwyn Hall. The day was gray and cold, and only family and close friends were in attendance.

As with the Earl of Langley’s wedding, the father of the bride performed the ceremony under special dispensation. The younger sister of the bride sang (yes, apparently there is one more of these Dare sisters), and the Earl and Countess of Langley stood in attendance to their respective siblings.

The bride (who is a great beauty, I can tell you) wore a simple gown of cream-colored silk faille. Over it, she wore a fitted jacket with long sleeves and a deep hood, which she wore in place of a veil. She carried a bouquet of leaves and pomegranate flowers that, apparently, look something like peonies and were the very color of the bride’s bright red hair. The groom, as you know, is darkly handsome and by all accounts could not take his eyes from his bride as she recited her vows—to love, cherish, and obey.

After the ceremony, a light snow fell on the couple and their guests as they walked to the house (isn’t that romantic?). Oh, and the bride removed her jacket for the wedding feast and displayed an elegant off-the-shoulder bodice. It had a pointed waist and pleated layer of lace shot with gold threads and pearls around the neckline. Her only other adornment was a cream-colored ribbon round her neck and diamond combs in her hair.

The wedding feast was made up of hearty winter fare, and served in the dining room with all being seated around the table. The wedding cake was flavored with spices and Madeira (I’m trying to procure the recipe).

Finally, the bride and groom danced, along with some of the other family and guests, to the accompaniment of Lord Fitz Roy on the piano. Apparently he is very good, yet no one I ask has ever heard him play. And then the evening finished with everyone singing Christmas carols.

Doesn’t that sound like the loveliest wedding, Henrietta? Everyone who hears of it thinks so. Certainly it’s a very stark contrast to the grand and sumptuous nuptials of Lord and Lady Danforth, which you and I were privileged to attend. But do you know, Henrietta, despite the magnificence of that occasion, I think I would rather have attended the little wedding in the woods.

Ah, well . . .

Some are saying the Hawkmore wedding will start a new trend. Indeed, it seems the Hawkmores may influence many new trends, including a renewed interest in reform, and the notion of good works being good business. I tell you, Henrietta, no one can believe that Matthew Hawkmore walked away from GWR and sold practically everything he owned in order to save the Gwenellyn Mine.

But even those who don’t understand or agree with his decision admire him for it. And he already seems to be making progress with the venture. A temporary shaft is being dug, and he has taken on investors. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hawkmore is seeing to the improvement of the town, and even reinstated a church there. She’s also succeeded in raising money for the establishment of musical and educational scholarships for the children of the village. Truly, Henrietta, they have thrown all their efforts and personal resources toward the salvation and betterment of this seemingly small, inconsequential village—when all common sense dictated they walk away. I, for one, hope they will be rewarded both financially and otherwise. And I’m not the only one who is for them.

Mr. and Mrs. Hawkmore had already been put on several important guest lists—and, now, since Benchley’s arrest, the social tide has turned completely in their favor. Everyone wants them. The only problem is that the new couple decline more invitations then they accept, and they seem to be very selective about their friends—which is only making them even more sought after.

And then there are the dinner parties they hold, which are said to be lively and informal affairs. Henrietta, the Queen and the Prince have been guests in their home! It was completely impromptu, and they came with Lord Fitz Roy. But word has it that they had such a lovely time, that they have decided to purchase an out-of-the-way house in the woods as well—Balmoral, which they have oft visited.

So, there you have it all, my dear. Who could have guessed, just months ago, that things would end so well for Matthew Morgan Hawkmore? Then, he seemed doomed to a dark world.

But now . . .

Well . . . Now, you’re considered fortunate if you’re invited to tea or to dinner at the old Tudor house in the forest. The party will be small, but the friends are close. And, most importantly of all, the host and hostess are people of the noblest quality and character. . . .

Yours,
Augusta