Sons and Daughters (42 page)

She was silent for a moment before she suggested, ‘What about Ben being your best man?’

Miles stared at her for a moment. ‘I – I hadn’t thought of Ben. I’d considered him too young.’

Charlotte smiled. ‘Your quiet son has more maturity than some young men twice his age. If you’d like one of your sons by your side, then I think you should ask Ben. Of course, Georgie . . .’ She broke off as they both began to smile at the mere thought of the boy. That was what Georgie did to people; he made them smile just thinking about him.

‘Georgie would do it like a shot, but I
do
think he is a little young at seven, don’t you?’

‘I suppose so,’ she said fondly. ‘But he’d certainly liven up the proceedings as your best man.’

‘Mind you, I’d forget to be nervous if I had him to worry about.’

‘Nervous? You’re not going to be nervous, are you?’

Miles laughed. ‘I don’t think so. I shall just worry you might have changed your mind and won’t turn up.’

‘Oh, I’ll not change my mind,’ she said firmly and then asked softly, ‘Will you?’

‘Never!’ he said and gently raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.

The wedding was fixed for the Saturday after Easter, so that Miles’s sons would be still at home for the holidays.

Charlotte enjoyed a few days in Lincoln with her aunt and uncle and – more importantly – with her mother. Euphemia was nothing if not generous with Percy’s money but he only smiled benignly and admired all their purchases. Euphemia swept Charlotte and her mother into the city’s largest store, leading them from department to department and demanding the attention of the head saleswoman in each. Her aunt suggested the very latest fashion for the wedding dress, but Charlotte was adamant.

‘I don’t like the modern shorter dresses, Aunt. I’d like a traditional Edwardian style and a hat trimmed with yards of tulle rather than a veil.’

Euphemia beamed. ‘Of course, my dear, you shall have exactly what you want. And have you decided on a bridesmaid?’

‘Ah, now, that caused me a bit of a problem. I don’t have any close friends of my own age.’ Euphemia and Alice glanced at each other, realizing what a lonely life Charlotte had led. ‘Mary and Peggy felt they were too old, so I’ve asked Lily to be my matron of honour.’ She smiled. ‘She was thrilled and our local dressmaker is making her a dress in pastel blue.’

Euphemia gave an exaggerated sigh but, for once, said nothing.

Once the wedding dress, hat, shoes, gloves and underwear had been bought, Euphemia led the way to the hairdresser. ‘And this time, my dear, I really think you should have your hair cut into a fashionable bob.’

‘No, Aunt.’ Once again, Charlotte gently stood up to her aunt. ‘I think my hairstyle should match the style of my dress. I’ve become quite adept at putting my hair up now, though I would like the hairdresser to show me a style befitting a bride.’

‘I agree,’ Alice put in quietly.

This time Euphemia capitulated gracefully. ‘I’m no match for both of you.’

But when the hairdresser had shown Charlotte how to put her long dark hair up in a profusion of curls and waves, even Euphemia had to admit that it suited her to perfection.

‘Darling, you look absolutely beautiful,’ Alice said with joyful tears. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to do it on your wedding day?’

‘I’ll get Peggy to help me. We can have a few practice sessions beforehand.’

They returned home tired but elated. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Uncle . . .’ Charlotte began, but Percy waved her aside, smiling benevolently. ‘Think nothing of it, dear girl. It’s our pleasure. And to see you mother so happy too . . .’

‘Ah, now, that’s another thing,’ her aunt said. ‘We intend to come to your wedding, Charlotte.
All
of us.’

‘Euphemia, dear, I don’t think—’ Alice began, but her sister-in-law was adamant. ‘You have been denied access to your only child all these years, Alice. But you are going to be there on her wedding day.’

‘Everyone thinks she’s – she’s dead. Just like I did. I told you, there’s a grave in the churchyard with her name on the headstone.’

‘Well, we’re coming and, whatever happens, your father will deserve whatever’s coming to him.’

‘I would love to go,’ Alice said, and suddenly there was a surprising note of firmness in her tone, ‘but I will only go if I can be incognito. I will wear a hat with a veil and no one will know who I am. Now you’re to promise me, Euphemia.’

Euphemia wriggled her shoulders but, for once, was obliged to say, ‘Oh very well, then.’

‘Miles, I don’t know what to do. It could cause my father another serious stroke. If my mother turns up the whole village will know of his deception. I fully intend to put matters right about the gravestone once he’s – he’s gone. It won’t matter then. It can’t hurt him, but for her to come back now . . .’

Miles chewed his lip thoughtfully. ‘It is a bit of a dilemma. But you say your mother’s going to wear a veil. Will anyone recognize her?’

‘I don’t know,’ Charlotte wailed. Her joy in her wedding day was already being spoiled.

Miles put his arms round her. ‘Have you told your mother and aunt about the gravestone?’

She nodded and told him of Euphemia’s response.

‘Your aunt’s certainly vicious towards your father, isn’t she?’

‘Yes – it goes back to their youth. Her father was against her marrying Percy and I think my father fuelled the quarrel. My grandfather evidently cast her off when she defied him. But my father’s as bad – worse, if anything, than she is. He – he calls her the most dreadful names.’ Colour rose in her cheeks as she recalled the distressing scenes she’d witnessed between her father and his sister.

‘Do you want your mother to be at your wedding?’

‘Oh yes, yes. She’s the innocent in all this. She’s gentle and doesn’t want to cause trouble. It’s Aunt Euphemia who’s so vitriolic against my father.’

He put his arms round her and she leaned against his shoulder, revelling in his strength and his support. No longer was she so alone. She’d always had Mary and Edward, of course, and they’d been wonderful, but they’d never been able to help her with important decisions. Even if she’d asked their advice, they’d always said primly, ‘It’s not our place to say, Miss Charlotte.’

But now she had Miles.

‘Why don’t you sound your father out on his plans for the day? Is he to give you away?’

She raised her head to look up at him. ‘I don’t know. I’d never really thought about it. I’d just presumed he would.’

‘Talk to him.’

‘I will.’

Charlotte was trembling as she stood before Osbert.

‘Father – you will give me away on my wedding day, won’t you?’

He frowned. ‘It depends,’ he growled.

‘On what?’

‘On how you’re going to be dressed. If you’re going to deck yourself out like some trollop, then I have no intention of being disgraced. I shall not be there.’

Charlotte lifted her chin defiantly. ‘I’ve already bought my wedding dress.’

He glowered at her. ‘And I suppose
she
went with you? Helped you choose?’

‘If you mean my aunt, then yes. She did.’

He glared at her, and she could read the question in his eyes. Did he guess that her mother had been there too? But the words remained unspoken.

‘So,’ she said at last. ‘What am I to do? Do you wish me to show you what I shall be wearing and then you can make up your mind?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re getting very uppity, miss. Just because Thornton’s come to his senses and decided to protect his son’s inheritance, there’s no need to forget your duty to your father.’

‘I won’t. I’ll always make sure you’re cared for. I promise you that.’ Then, boldly she added, ‘Philip’s afraid that if I do have a child – a boy – you will change your will.’

Osbert’s eyes gleamed. ‘I might. We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘So – he doesn’t want you to have a son – and I do. What about Thornton? Does he want another boy?’

‘Oh no,’ Charlotte threw back over her shoulder as she left the room with, for probably the first time in the whole of her life, the last word. ‘He wants a daughter.’

‘You are not wearing
that
!’

Her father thumped his stick on the floor with his good hand. Then he lunged out at the dress she was holding up for his inspection, trying to hook it out of her grasp and throw it towards the fire. Charlotte stepped backwards just in time.

‘You hussy – you whore! Just like your – your aunt.’

For a moment she thought he’d been going to say ‘mother’. With an outward calm she was not feeling inside, she said, ‘This is the dress I shall be wearing on my wedding day, Father. So – do I take it that you will not be attending?’

He glared at her. ‘You dishonour me. You bring shame to my name.’

‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ she said with a quiet dignity. ‘But very soon I’ll no longer bear the name of Crawford, will I?’

He glared at her and was silent for several moments whilst she waited, her heart pounding nervously. Then he raised his head and said slowly, ‘But I’ll be there. I won’t let folks say
I
didn’t do my duty. But you’ll make a laughing stock of yourself.’

‘So, he’s coming to the wedding, is he?’ Miles said when she told him what had passed between her and her father.

‘He says so. But I wouldn’t put it past him to cry off at the last minute. And then who would I get to give me away?’

‘There’s your uncle or Edward – or even Felix. He’d step in if he was needed, I know, now that Ben’s agreed to be my best man.’ He paused and then, smiling mischievously, added, ‘So – what is so dreadful about this dress?’

Charlotte laughed and tapped him playfully on the nose. ‘Now, now, you know I’m not going to tell you anything about my dress. It’s unlucky.’

‘What does Mary think of it?’

Charlotte’s eyes were suddenly dreamy. ‘She thinks it’s lovely.’

‘And your aunt and mother helped you choose it – so what are you worrying about?’ He put his arms round her. ‘I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.’

‘I’ll have to write and tell them that Father’s going to be at the wedding.’

‘By all means warn them, but let your mother make up her own mind. From what you’ve told me about her, I’m sure she’ll do nothing that would embarrass you or spoil your day.’

Charlotte looked up at him with troubled eyes. ‘Yes – but what might my aunt do?’

Charlotte’s wedding day dawned fine and sunny, with a light breeze. She was incredibly nervous and Mary could do nothing to calm her anxieties. But it had nothing to do with her future husband or even his family. For once, not even Philip’s spite could overshadow her happiness. Her only anxiety was her own relatives and what they might – or might not – do.

Mary went ahead, whilst Edward drove Charlotte and her father to the church in a flower-bedecked carriage that Miles had hired especially.

‘Such nonsense,’ Osbert growled as Edward almost lifted him into the vehicle. ‘A waste of money. I hope you’re not expecting me to pay for all this.’

‘No, Father. Miles is paying for everything. The reception is in a marquee in the garden at the manor.’

‘And your fripperies?’ he sneered. ‘Am I expected to pay for you to dress like a whore? And where are your spectacles?’

‘No, Father. You’re not paying for anything.’ She bit back the words to tell him that her uncle had paid for her wedding finery and her going-away outfit; indeed, all her trousseau, even down to the half-dozen fine lace handkerchiefs. As for the question about her spectacles, she chose to ignore it.

As the carriage jerked and they set off towards the church, he grumbled, ‘And I suppose you are going away on
honeymoon
for weeks on end.’

‘Just one week, Father. We’re only going to London.’

‘That den of iniquity. What is the man thinking of? I’m beginning to have doubts about letting you marry him. It’s not too late, we can still turn back.’ He raised his voice. ‘Edward—’

‘I have no intention of turning back, Father. Drive on, Edward,’ she commanded and her heart was singing as Edward slapped the reins to quicken the pace towards a new beginning with the love of her life.

The church was full to overflowing. Several people couldn’t even get into the body of the church and crowded into the porch, jostling each other to hear the couple make their vows. Smiling and nodding, they made way for the bride, her father and Edward.

A gasp rippled amongst them as Charlotte lifted her head and smiled at them.

‘Miss Charlotte, you look lovely,’ someone called out.

The same surprise ran through the whole of the congregation, when Charlotte and her father made their slow progress up the aisle.

She caught some of the whispers. ‘Why, she’s lovely.’ ‘Just look at her.’ ‘Who’d have thought it?’

And when Miles turned to watch his bride coming towards him, she saw a brief look of amazement in his eyes, which he was unable to hide. He held out his hand and she took it, in that moment placing all her trust and her future happiness in his hands.