The Youngest Bridesmaid (3 page)

BOOK: The Youngest Bridesmaid
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There had b
e
en a small burst of applause when the music sto
pp
ed, and she had become aware of Cousin Blanc e

s look of displeasure and Melissa

s amused exp
ress
ion of surprise. How had she known, then, that
P
iers

island was important to him, that it was a refuge, an escape from the life society had
thrust upon him? But she had known, without a word on the subject exchanged.


He hardly notices me,

she had answered her cousin, and, of course, it was true; neither had he in his subsequent visits to the house, interrupting for a brief time the bustle and nervous tension of preparations for a big society wedding, neither did he, if it came to that, evince much impatience at his disturbed
tete-a-tetes
with his bride. Only Cousin Blanche, as the busy days flew by, seemed to become more on edge, snapping at Melissa whose absences on shopping expeditions, growing longer, seemed to worry her, snapping, too, at Lou who might be considered fair game, for a display of temperament usually associated with the bride.


Am I exceptionally stupid?

Lou asked of Jill,
or Jane or Caroline, the other bridesmaids, who all looked much alike to her, and had clearly thought her of no account from the very beginning.


No, darling, you

re just a natural butt,

Jill or Jane or Caroline answered, renewing her make-up with a practised hand.

Why do you run when you

re whistled for? The bridesmaids are only a decorative appendage to the bride.

Yes, in your case, Lou thought without rancour, but she was the poor relation, raised to the status of decorative appendage, it was true, but expected to work for the privilege.


Cousin Blanche seems edgy—it

s difficult to please,

she said aloud.


Your Cousin Blanche is just plain
scared that there

ll be a hitch at the last minute, darling. Melissa is causing anxiety.


Melissa?

But she seems calmer than anyone.


Very likely she has her reasons. All the same, dea
r
Cousin Blanche would be nicely in the soup, from all accounts, if anything went wrong. Piers made a very handsome settlement, you know, and that

s already gone down the drain.


Well,

said Lou prosaically, firmly crushing
down her own distaste for such blatant speculations,

what should go wrong? In a week they

ll be
married, and Melissa is scarcely likely to throw away a brilliant match at the last moment.


No, I don

t think so, either, but they say history repeats itself.


Cousin Blanche throwing over Piers

father, you mean?


Well, yes, but that was quite different, of course.
Piers

father was a comparatively poor man then, and
dear Blanche thought she knew which side her bread was buttered. I

m sure Melissa does, too.


Yes
...
yes, I expect so,

Lou replied absently, chiding herself for a sense of disappointment which she had learnt by now was old-fashioned and impracticable. The world was no longer well lost for love, and if one could know on which side one

s bread was buttered, so much the better for all concerned.


Darling, are you a little bit impressed with the gossip writers

dark hints about Piers?

Jill or Jane or Caroline enquired with idle curiosity.


I don

t read the gossip columns,

Lou replied, fearing she sounded prim, and added with innocent enquiry,

What dark hints?


Oh, the usual. A
modern
rake, a young man given to extravagant whims, a young man who has lived his life and been pursued unavailingly—not that Piers is so young at that—he must be well on in the thirties. That wouldn

t worry me, though he

s quite a dish, don

t you think? And imagine all that gorgeous lolly!


A dish?

Lou knew, of course, what that meant, but the social insincerities of the age jarred her.
God bless,
they said, without stopping to think.
Take care of yourself,
they said, not really minding. A blessing came, perhaps, as no harm to anyone, but who would take care of you if you didn

t do that for yourself? It was all so glib.

The bridesmaid whose name she, could never remember was looking at her with resignation.


An attraction, a prize, a feather worth having in one

s cap,

she said.

Things do have to be explained to you in words of one syllable, don

t they, sweetie?
We

ve all thought he made your girlish heart flutter a little.


Have you? Then that was rather foolish,

Lou replied coldly.

Because I haven

t had the same chances in life as the rest of you there

s no reason—no reason at all why—


For crying out loud!

exclaimed the first or sec
o
nd or third bridesmaid in amazement, as Lou rushed suddenly from the room.

III

T
he last week drew to its hectic close, and Lou, despite the endless chores which fell to her lot and the increasing hysteria which seemed to be mounting in the people surrounding her, knew sharp regret that these brief weeks of extravagance were coming to an end. They had been a glimpse of storybook existence, a period of color, and excitement that would be remembered with gratitude when her own humdrum life was resumed and the office and the digs she shared with more ordinary mortals would bring her down to earth again. No matter that the house and servants were hired for the occasion, that Cousin Blanche

s extravagant mode of living was no more than a whistling in the dark, no matter, again, that Melissa

s romance, such a nine days

wonder, was no more than a union of mutual convenience with, from Blanche Chailey

s point of view, a great deal of money at stake. It was still all a
modern
fairy tale, a dream-like, insubstantial snippet of life only gleaned at second hand, a life, when all was said and done, that would be very hard for the humble to live up to.

Here they were at last on the eve of
the wedding, with rain pouring down unkindly from the November sky with no promise of relenting for the morrow. The bridesmaids were all assembled for a final fitting of their dresses, the
doorbell
rang incessantly, also the telephone, the vast double drawing room was already cleared for the reception and in the hands of the caterers, and Blanche moved restlessly from one
room to another, countermanding orders, snapping irritably at all and sundry, bewailing the weather and her daughter

s unaccountable absence alike.


Where is Melissa?

she demanded for the twentieth time.

She knows there

s a final rehearsal this afternoon, and anyway she should be resting.


She went out early. I think she was going to church,

Lou said, trying to sound soothing, but her cousin merely laughed derisively.


If she told you that, Lou, then she thinks you

re a bigger fool than I took you for,

she retorted, but Lou

s widely spaced eyes simply grew wider in genuine puzzlement.


I don

t understand. It seemed to me very natural that Melissa should wish to go to church alone,

she said gently, but Cousin Blanche favored her with a look of impatience which bordered on dislike.


I daresay it does,

she snapped.

But to my knowledge Melissa has never before shown desire to beg a blessing on any of her projects. Why should she now?


Marriage is a little different. One would want to ask a blessing for that, I think,

Lou replied gravely, then looked round quickly for the familiar expressions of surprise or ridicule on the faces of the bridesmaids, but they were all too busy admiring themselves to pay her attention, even if they had heard her. Fitters on their knees, adjusting hemlines and nipping in here and letting out there, were being harried by impractical suggestions and scoldings, tempers were running high and one little apprentice was already in tears.

Cousin Blanche had already turned away to restore order with a few pungent sentences, and Lou crossed to one of the mirrors to study her own reflection in comparative peace. The dresses were charming, she thought, discovering with faint wonder what the cunningly cut moss green velvet sheath did for herself. She was the youngest, and by far the most slender of all the bridesmaids, and the dress seemed fashioned, she thought, with herself in
mind. The image in the mirror seemed for a moment that of a stranger. The color was complementary to her own muted tones, and the soft, slender lines kind to her sharp young bones. I look almost pretty, she thought with pleasure, then her cousin

s voice observed behind her:


For heaven

s sake, Lou,
why won

t you let them do something about your hair: You

ll be the only one with a head not properly dressed.
I can
still get an appointment for you.

Blanche, accustomed to the beehives, back-combings and lacquered elegance of current fashion, found Lou

s smooth, adolescent head an affront. Those little wreaths, so carefully chosen, so very cute and clever, would look nothing without the proper build-up. Really, the child was too tiresome!


No, no, madame, mademoiselle is quite right!

The head fitter

s voice broke in, and she began giving deft twitches to the shoulders and, long tight sleeves, smiling over Lou

s head as she did so.

The simplicity is right for the gown, that straight, soft fall of hair, the little fringe—it is right and charming. A wood nymph, perhaps, would you say?


I would say you

re putting a lot of silly nonsense into the child

s head,

Blanche replied tartly
.

Wood nymph, indeed! Well, she

ll scarcely be noticed amongst the others, so I don

t suppose it matters.

When she was out of hearing the fitter whispered angrily:


Do not heed her, mademoiselle. She is annoyed because she knows that you alone can wear this gown with grace.


Oh, I don

t think so,

Lou replied with honest surprise.

Anyway, I shall never wear it again, I don

t suppose. It would be too grand for the sort of life I lead.


What a pity,

the woman remarked, but the look she gave Lou was suddenly curious and faintly ironic, and Lou realized in a moment of embarrassment that Cousin Blanche had not fooled her at all. The cost of the wedding and the fabulous trousseau
might impress the credulous, but it was evidently common knowledge that the wealthy bridegroom would have to meet the bills.


Thank you,

Lou said, moving quickly away, feeling suddenly ashamed. Cousin Blanche, if she could not afford it, did not have to put on such a reckless display of extravagance, nor did her daughter have to acquiesce so complacently, and where, indeed,
was
Melissa on a rainy afternoon when she
should have been fitting her wedding dress? The final rehearsal was to be a full dress affair at home, so that trains and unfamiliar trappings could be
manoeuvred without disaster on the day and the
p
icture as a whole scrutinized and made perfect. Very soon the bridegroom would arrive; neither he nor Melissa or her mother apparently attached any importance to the old superstition that it was unlucky for the groom to see the wedding dress before the ceremony.

Cousin Blanche was beginning to panic, and even the waiting bridesmaids started whispering and giggling among themselves. The head fitter was complaining with rising indignation that there would not be enough time to dress the bride and be ready for the rehearsal and her apprentices could not spend all the afternoon in idleness when there might be last-minute alterations to be made.


Be quiet!

snapped Blanche, and a maid came into the room at that moment and handed her a letter.


Come by hand,

she vouchsafed laconically.

There

s no answer.

There was nothing in the trivial interruption to cause alarm, but Lou watched while her cousin slit the envelope and felt suddenly afraid. Even the chattering bridesmaids fell silent as if disquiet had
touched them, too, and Blanche herself froze into rigidity as she read the contents of the note.


Madame ...

the
head fitter murmured, sensing disaster, but when Blanche spoke her voice was like ice, and her face looked suddenly old.


Will you all go, please? You won

t be required here any longer,

she said.


But the wedding gown?


The wedding dress will have to wait. My daughter

s been—delayed.


Cousin Blanche
...

Lou said as the door closed softly behind the fitter and her assistants, then Blanche suddenly went to pieces.


She

s gone!

she screamed
o
n a rising note of hysteria.

Melissa
has done this to me
...
run off with that good-for-nothing young charmer I

d thought safely forgotten, just because of a tiff with Piers
...
love is all that
counts, she says. Love! As if such nonsense mattered with the world at your feet and a fortune already spent in advance. Don

t stand there like a lot
of
gaping dummies—there

ll be no wedding, so you might as well all go home.


Cousin Blanche!

Lou

s young voice was sharp with distress and she made an instinctive movement towards the older woman, then drew back, embarrassed and dismayed. It was terrible to witness such a cracking of that hitherto hard, cold facade; it was hurtful to interpret the avid expressions on the pretty faces of the girls enjoying her humiliation.

Jane—or perhaps it was Caroline—said in an audible whisper:


History repeating itself with a vengeance! Who

s going to tell the high and mighty bridegroom he

s been left at the altar?

Who, indeed? thought Lo
u
distractedly, and as if on cue, Piers walked unannounced into the room.

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