The House in Grosvenor Square (48 page)

M
r. Frederick waited until Mr. Timmons was out of sight. With a furtive look back, he hurried toward the staircase. Of course he didn't believe for a second that his master was not at home. Preposterous suggestion! But it wouldn't hurt to take a peek at him either. He headed for the master's bedchamber.

Ariana was trying to contain her excitement. She had taken only tea at breakfast, as her fluttering stomach would allow naught else. She thought she might burst from all the happiness she felt inside. It was too wonderful. Her wedding day, after an
age,
had finally arrived! The idea of how long she'd been betrothed to Mr. Mornay seemed absurdly long.

Harrietta moved more slowly than usual, doing her preparations. “What is it, Harrietta?”

She seemed rather cast down, in stark contrast to Ariana's joy.

“It's jus' that I'll miss ye when you're married, Miss.”

“Miss me? But aren't you coming with me?”

Harrietta looked startled. “The mistress 'asn't said a word to me about it.”

“Oh, dear. I am sure I spoke to her of it. I suppose we each thought the other would tell you. You are to come with me, Harrietta, until we both decide if we suit.”

“Oh, bless me, Miss Forsythe, do we suit? I'd be 'appy to stay with you forever!”

Ariana remembered that Harrietta had not been a lady's maid before her arrival, but Mrs. Bentley had promoted her with the help of some quick
training in hair dressing and the proper handling of expensive fabrics. Harrietta's old duties were much more laborious, not to mention that the position of lady's maid gave her precedence over all other female servants, save Mrs. Ruskin, the housekeeper. Ariana's coming had lifted her from a life of drudgery, and she had no wish to return to it.

“Well, then,” Ariana replied with a little smile. “As I assuredly
need
you, then 'tis settled.” She was silent for a moment, while Harrietta expertly used her fingers to twist and turn the little curls about Ariana's face to hang
just so
.

“Oh, thank you, miss! I must write to my sister and tell her the good news!”

“Afterward pack your things directly,” Ariana said. “You must come along with the other servants we will be bringing when we leave following the ceremony.”

“Yes, miss! Thank'ee miss!” There were tears in her eyes.

When Freddie arrived at the master's bedchamber, he found a sleeping Fotch inside, on a wing chair. So far, so good. But the bed, when he pulled aside the curtain enough to peek, was empty! The bed hadn't been slept in.

“Mr. Fotch! Where is the master?”

“Hum? What? Where is he?”

“Wake up, sir! Where is Mr. Mornay!”

Fotch came to, sat up, looked at the bed, and scratched his head. “I never saw him! Is he not in the house?”

“Oh, dear.” Frederick's face creased into a frown. “There is a Mr. Timmons here. A rector! He's looking for Mr. Mornay!” His eyes widened with a terrible thought. “Could this be the man who will perform the ceremony?”

“Not Mr. Hodgson? He presides at St. George's!”

“This may be Miss Forsythe's man!”

Fotch frowned and thought quickly. “It must be him, right and tight! What'll we do?”

“Well, he seems awfully suspicious for some reason. And now the master is gone! I say, it does have an appearance of ill-boding! Mr. Mornay would certainly not miss his own wedding! He's never been pigeon-headed in his life! What do you make of it?”

Fotch looked pensive. He quickly went to the wardrobe and had a look
about, but he shook his head. “His church clothes are here.” He looked at Freddie. “I don't like it, Mr. Frederick.”

“Nor do I, Mr. Fotch.” The two men stood there helplessly for a few minutes.

“We'd best do something about
him.
” Fotch said, referring to the rector.

“Indubitably. If he thinks the master hasn't been here, he may run back to Hanover Square and give the wrong impression.” Their eyes met. “He may
cancel
the wedding!” It was an admission attended with all due respect, and the men hung their heads in sorrow.

“That mustn't happen!”

“The master would not intentionally miss his wedding.”

“Never!”

“He's been too happy about it. Have you noted the change in him?”

“That I have!” Fotch remembered the way he'd seen his master with Miss Forsythe on more than one occasion—the softness of his manner toward her, the loosening up of his own bearing. Something was evidently amiss today, but whatever it was, he knew—he just
knew
—the master was not at fault.

Mr. Frederick took a breath. “Stay here in case
our rector
comes.”

“Perhaps the master's at Hanover Square!” the other said. “Send and ask!”

“But how can we? If he is not there, it will give away that we, who should know precisely where he is, do not know! No, sir, that won't answer.” They were both still frowning. “I'll go see to that rector. And then perhaps I'll make some inquiries of Mr. Mornay's acquaintances. They may know something of this.”

“I dread to think you are right, Mr. Frederick, but you may be.”

“Indeed.”

They parted, and Fotch sat down, bewildered and at a loss.

Mr. Frederick suddenly appeared again at the doorway and stuck his head into the room. “Whatever you do, do not allow Mr. Timmons to know that Mr. Mornay is not at home! If he tries to enter this room, you cannot allow it!”

“Right. Send John up here, eh?” John was one of the larger footmen on staff.

“Right. Let's to it!” Mr. Frederick answered, even as he made his way from the room.

Mr. Timmons was enjoying his breakfast and the attention of servants, who had no one else to help save himself. He still felt a nagging concern about Mr. Mornay and hoped that there would be enough time for them to talk before the man had to rush off to his wedding. He looked at his watch. Eleven o'clock. A sense of real concern assailed him, and he frowned. Wait—he would pray. Troubling thoughts were always best when offered up as prayer. He bowed his head right there and then at the table and prayed.
Let there be time for a talk with Mornay. Let me see that the man has indeed made a clean break from his former besetting sins. Oh, if the man has a real religion, let it be evident today!

Mr. Frederick entered the room and bowed slightly. “Mr. Mornay is still abed, sir. He begs your patience, asking that you excuse him as he rarely takes breakfast. He will be happy to meet with you afterward.”

Mr. Timmons felt better at once. “Ah, splendid! Splendid, my good man! Thank you.”

Ariana turned slowly, letting all her family admire the satin and silk gown with its matching veil of white lace. It was a fairly simple but elegant design, draping beautifully on the tall girl as Mrs. Bentley's excellent modiste had intended. Her bouquet had arrived and was also elegant. At home, girls used country wildflowers for their poseys, but here she had received the benefit of Mrs. Bentley's largesse as usual. The bouquet was made up of deliciously scented petals of tightly curled roses and fresh greens. It was lovely and soft and Ariana was enchanted.

Now Mrs. Bentley appeared in the parlour and all of the subsequent “oohs” and “aahs” that must accompany a bride's entrance, even an older bride, were made and smilingly accepted. Mrs. Bentley did indeed look lovely.

Ariana's aunt wore a veiled headdress over her face, a light covering of cobweb lace, and a gown of shot silk and satin that sparkled wherever light fell upon it. The gown's colour was a light blue-grey, and it reflected the jewels in her necklace and bracelets as though they were fashioned to accompany just that gown.

She and Ariana exchanged a smiling embrace. Ariana almost gave way to tears while it lasted. How had this crochety old woman become so dear to her heart? She was nearly as happy on account of Mrs. Bentley's wedding
as she was for her own. Who would ever have dreamed that she and her aunt would both be tying the knot on the same day?

The Forsythes were dressed and ready. Little Lucy followed Ariana everywhere, wanting to carry the train that Ariana had securely fastened by a button on the side of her dress, which existed for just that purpose. Lucy's childish intuition told her she would soon be missing this sister yet again. Mrs. Bentley's fine coach was at the curb, ready to take them to the church. There would be no walking there today.