The Birthday Present (23 page)

‘I wish Marie could have been here.’

‘She’s better off with Mother and Gerard. We could both go over there if you wish, after the wedding. Mother would love to see you.’

Before Steven could make an argument out of that suggestion, Marcus hurried out and went in search of Rose, wondering if life for the Bennley family would ever go smoothly.

Nine

As close friends and family, Rose, Marcus and Steven sat in the front pew. On the opposite side of the aisle were the groom’s family which included the uncle and aunt. As Marcus and Rose walked to their seats, he whispered to Rose that Carlotta and her parents, Simon and Nora Todd, were close friends of the da Silvas.

The rest of the small church was filled with invited friends and at the far end, a group of local well-wishers had gathered. Outside they had passed a large group of villagers enjoying the spectacle of a wealthy wedding.

Rose was determined to enjoy the day and was wearing the clothes that Marcus had bought her to wear to France. She had pushed aside the sad thoughts about Connie, believing that she owed it to Marcus’s family to prove herself a perfect guest at the wedding.

As she glanced at the polished guests in their beautiful clothes, she decided that she would not marry until she was wealthy as well as famous and could do things in a similar style. Determined to enjoy herself, she refused to think about Clarice and Gerard miles away on the other side of the Channel, who were missing such a wonderful day  . . . or about Marie, who would have loved to be present.

An abrupt change of music heralded the arrival of Letitia, who was being given away by her godfather, and although Rose had seen and admired Letitia earlier while she was helping with her dress, the sight of her walking down the aisle brought a glow of happiness to her face. Rose glanced up at Marcus, who was also smiling. Steven, having turned down the invitation to be an usher, was busy arranging his hassock and only looked up when his sister had passed.

The service began in earnest as they all knelt to pray and then resumed their seats for the actual service. Rose thought that Bernard da Silva looked suitably dignified and very handsome in his dark suit, and wondered who she herself would marry. Maybe another successful performer – an opera singer might be suitably dignified and sought after, she thought wistfully – but then he might outshine her and that would be a pity.

The vicar, small and thin, was somewhat swamped by his black and white vestments, but he made his way through the familiar phrases of the marriage service with a comforting air of assurance, never missing a word and speaking clearly so that no one had to strain to hear him. Steven, paying little attention, was now riffling through his book to find the appropriate hymn and Rose, forgetting her intention to be the perfect guest, nudged him with her elbow and frowned at him.

‘What is it?’ he demanded irritably in a loud whisper.

At that moment the vicar was heard asking if anyone knew of any reason why the couple should not be joined in Holy Matrimony. There was an anxious moment as his enquiring glance roved over the congregation and then a sudden gasp and a turning of heads.

Hearing this, Letitia turned and so did Bernard. Startled, Marcus and Rose also turned and saw a young woman standing two rows back.

‘My God!’ hissed Marcus. ‘It’s Carlotta Todd!’

Carlotta’s voice rang out. ‘I know just cause. Bernard da Silva is not in love with her! Ask him!’

Her parents, white-faced with shock, tried to pull her back down in her seat but she fought them off.

The vicar, taken by surprise, began to stammer and lost his poise. Letitia was staring, ashen-faced, at the cause of the interruption and Bernard, Rose saw, had sunk down on to the pew and had hidden his face in his hands.

‘Marcus! Do something!’ Rose urged. ‘Say something to her!’

‘Such as what?’

‘Just stop her!’

Carlotta continued. ‘Ask Bernard if he truly loves his bride-to-be. His answer, here under God’s roof, will be “No!”’

The vicar took a few tentative steps forward as though to confront her. Carlotta still stood, defiantly ignoring the protests that came from all directions. Her mother swayed and almost fell. Her father, now red-faced and furious, was shaking her by the arm, begging her to sit down.

Letitia clung to her godfather who supported her as well as he could.

Suddenly Steven decided to become a player in the drama. He shook Bernard and said, ‘Stand up, for God’s sake, and say something!’

Letitia cried, ‘Bernard! Answer her!’

‘Yes, yes!’ said the vicar gathering his wits. ‘You will have to answer the claim or the service cannot go ahead.’

Urged on by Steven, Bernard stared at Carlotta who had now pushed her way into the aisle. ‘Carlotta  . . .’ he stammered. ‘You can’t  . . . This isn’t  . . .’

The congregation fell silent as Carlotta walked slowly towards him. ‘Who do you love, Bernard?’ she asked, her voice low. ‘Her or me? In God’s name, tell the truth.’

Time seemed to stand still and a hush fell over the congregation as all eyes focused on Bernard. When the moment lengthened and still he did not speak a low, shocked murmur ran through the congregation.

Marcus said, ‘Bernard! What’s the matter with you? Don’t you see what the vicar is saying – that you have to answer Carlotta’s question? You have to say that you love Letitia or the marriage won’t go ahead!’

He stared at Marcus, the picture of misery. ‘I do love her!’ he said.

Steven said, ‘You do love
who
? That is, which one?’

Marcus groaned. ‘This is farcical!’

Around them the murmur of disapproval grew to a grumble of discontent.

Rose could stand it no longer. She stepped forward and glared at Carlotta. ‘You wicked little troublemaker!’ she snapped. ‘Why don’t you just get out of here? You’ve caused enough trouble already!’

Someone in the congregation called ‘Hear, hear!’ And there were mutterings of support.

Carlotta was not to be distracted from her purpose. She said, ‘Mind your own business!’ and pushed Rose so that she fell backwards.

The push took Rose by surprise and she rocked back on her heels with the force of the blow and fell against the pew behind her.

Letitia, appalled by the way her wedding day plans were disintegrating, hitched up her skirts and ran, sobbing, past them, up the aisle, past Carlotta and out of the church. While everyone stared at her departing back, Marcus helped Rose to her feet while Steven and the vicar huddled together with Letitia’s godfather, wondering what to do next.

Bernard’s mother joined them, pale with shock, a trembling hand pressed to her heart. She spoke to the vicar. ‘I’m so sorry, vicar. What on earth possessed that wretched Carlotta? This is quite unbelievable  . . . My heart won’t stop racing! Dear Lord!’

They guided her to a pew and she sat down heavily. ‘What on earth can I say? What shall we do?’ She looked at Marcus. ‘Your poor sister. Shouldn’t somebody be with her?’

Rose said, ‘I’ll go,’ and hurried along the aisle which was already filled with people who had left their seats in confusion. She avoided eye contact with Carlotta, still smarting emotionally, as well as physically, from the push she had received. To Rose it appeared that nothing could now go ahead as planned, except perhaps the wedding breakfast. People had travelled long distances and would need to be fed at some time. She imagined the ballroom and the waiting caterers who as yet had no idea the wedding had descended into chaos.

Once in the churchyard she caught sight of Letitia running down the path towards the lychgate. ‘Letitia! Please wait!’

The crowd outside were staring in astonishment at the runaway bride who seemed unaware of their startled expressions. Rose caught up with her and took hold of her hand. ‘Please stop, Letitia!’ she begged, trying to stop the headlong flight. ‘Where are you going?’

Abruptly Letitia stopped, clutching her side and breathing heavily. ‘I’m going home! What else can I do? Bernard  . . . he didn’t deny it! Oh God. I hate him! How could he let her do that? How, Rose? In front of all those people – it was so cruel of him not to defend us  . . . to let her humiliate me like that.’ Clinging to the corner post of the gate, she tried to control her tears while the watching villagers drew back a little, murmuring to each other in shocked tones.

An elderly woman looked at Rose. ‘What’s happening, miss? Ain’t there going to be no wedding?’

Before Rose could decide how to answer Letitia raised her head. ‘There may be a wedding but I won’t be part of it,’ she cried. She waved her hand for the carriage that had brought her smiling and full of hope, to the church gate, and the puzzled driver hopped down and walked back to them.

Rose told him, ‘There’s been a change of plan. Letitia and I would like to go straight back to Victoria House.’

From beneath his black top hat he looked from Rose to Letitia. ‘Is that right? I mean  . . . where’s the bridegroom? Shouldn’t we wait?’

Letitia recovered her breath. ‘Miss Paton is quite right. We are returning alone to Victoria House. Mr da Silva will not be coming with me  . . . ever!’

Rose eyed her with a mixture of admiration and astonishment. There was no hesitation in Letitia’s voice and it left no room for a change of mind. It flashed into Rose’s mind that Letitia did not seem as surprised as she should have been at the unfortunate turn of events, and she wondered whether somewhere deep in Letitia’s subconscious there had been a premonition of such a disaster. If so she had certainly not shown any signs of anxiety – at least, not in Rose’s presence.

The driver looked bleak. ‘So I’m not to go to Longley Manor?’ He had imagined the wonderful spectacle they would make and the admiring glances he would receive as he drew up at the door with the smiling couple. ‘The lady who made the booking said I was to pick up the bride at Victoria House but take them both to Longley Manor after the wedding.’

Rose said, ‘It’s been changed. Do please get a move on.’ She glanced nervously over her shoulder but there was no sign of a pursuit.

After a futile glance around him in search of further enlightenment, the driver agreed and assisted both women into the carriage and whipped up the two beautiful chestnut horses. They set off in the opposite direction, his expression grim, his stiff back an indication of his disapproval.

Inside the church, the vicar had retired to the room which served as a registry to sit and stare blankly at the page on which the unhappy couple would not be placing their signatures. In all his days as a vicar he had never before been faced with such a disastrous turn of events and he blamed himself for not having taken control of the situation. Was there something he ought to have done? Was there a way he could have saved the day? He was plagued by the idea that he had failed in his duties. It would be all over the village by morning and he would go down in everyone’s estimation.

He thought fleetingly of the loving attention given in the previous days by the two ladies who prepared the church – polishing the woodwork, cleaning the brass and the silver plate, and arranging small posies of flowers at the end of each pew along the centre aisle. How heartbroken the ladies would be, he thought. All that hard work for nothing. No one to appreciate their efforts – and all because of that dreadful young woman  . . .

He recalled the feelings of anger he had experienced when she stood up to challenge him in the middle of his duties as a man of the church. She must have been sitting there, waiting for the right moment to ruin everything. He could willingly have strangled her, he thought guiltily and sighed. ‘Not very Christian,’ he told himself and wished his wife were still alive. She was more down to earth and might have come up with a solution.

Meanwhile Carlotta was standing face to face with Bernard, demanding an honest answer. ‘You don’t love her. You as good as told me so. Perhaps you would like to forget what you said that day. Well, I won’t. You said you would marry me if you could but that matters had gone too far.’

Nora Todd glared at her daughter. ‘You didn’t tell us that! You let us go on thinking  . . . all that time we were preparing for the wedding  . . . oh, you wicked girl!’

Bernard finally glanced up and said, ‘Don’t blame her – blame me! It’s all my fault.’

Simon Todd glared at him. ‘Oh, we do blame you! Don’t fret on that score. You’ve been leading them both on and now you’ve broken that poor young woman’s heart! I hope to God you’re thoroughly ashamed of yourself!’

Alicia da Silva suddenly stood up, her expression wild. ‘We can’t sit here raking over the coals. We have all the guests to think about! Some of them have come from miles away  . . . and there’s the reception waiting at Henry’s place. We can’t just waste it!’ She looked round desperately for someone to advise her.

All around people were discussing the predicament and some had already drifted out of the church and were standing in groups in the small churchyard.

Marcus nodded. ‘I think we should announce that the reception at Longley Manor will go ahead and we will make explanations and apologies then.’ He glanced at the da Silvas who nodded eagerly, relieved to have had someone else make the decision.

Marcus cleared his throat and made the announcement and then went outside to repeat it. The wedding breakfast would go ahead, but without the bride and groom.

Half an hour later, in Wissant, Clarice, Gerard and Marie were sitting round the large kitchen table, raising their glasses to the happy couple on the other side of the water. Although he made plenty of good wine for the family’s use, Gerard had bought a bottle of champagne to celebrate Letitia’s wedding.

Marie said, ‘I hope Bernard makes her happy. It’s a shame we couldn’t all be there but  . . .’ She shrugged.

Clarice said quickly, ‘We can’t change the way things are but I’m sure Bernard will take care of our lovely daughter.’ She smiled at her husband.

He nodded. ‘She will look like a princess!’ he boasted. ‘One day per’aps they will visit us – or we shall be invited to visit them. We must be patient  . . . But if Bernard does not make her ’appy, he will ’ave me to deal with!’