Silk and Shadows by Mary Jo Putney

Author:Mary Jo Putney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ePublishing Works!
Published: 2013-11-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Sara returned to Haddonfield a week before the ceremony, profoundly grateful to be back in the country. She and her betrothed had gone into society several times in the previous fortnight and the occasions had been stressful. While no one had been overtly rude, she had been aware of the whispers and curiosity, of people studying both her and her betrothed with fascinated, avid eyes.

But the effort had been successful. The talk had not blossomed into a scandal and the St. James's name was still unsullied.

Because of the circumstances surrounding Sara's broken betrothal, she had decided to marry from her family home rather than in London. After a week of frenzied preparations, her wedding day dawned, having arrived both too quickly and too slowly. Afterward, Sara remembered her wedding as a collection of kaleidoscopic fragments. She knew she must have acted normally, for no one said otherwise, but most of the day was a blank, punctuated by occasional moments of sharp clarity.

She had been awakened by Aunt Marguerite, who came in with a tray of tea and toast. As Sara stirred milk into her cup, the duchess had said briskly, "Since Maria is no longer with us, I suppose I should do all the things mothers are supposed to do. You are not a child and are both levelheaded and well-informed, but still, there is a shocking amount of ignorance about what takes place in the marriage bed."

She cocked her head to one side. "Need I explain what happens? Though I warn you, the description is quite ludicrous and far less appealing than the reality. Or if you feel that you have an adequate grasp of the basics, are there any special questions you would like to ask? You needn't be shy with me."

Sara had choked on her tea and gone into a coughing fit. After recovering, she said, "That isn't necessary, Aunt."

The duchess studied her niece's burning face, then said with distinct approval, "I see. Very good, my dear."

Knowing that her aunt undoubtedly did see, Sara had hastily risen and rung for her bath.

The next memory was of Jenny Miller. Sara had canceled the order for the elaborate dress she would have worn to marry Charles, choosing instead a simpler gown of ivory-colored silk. Privately, she made the ironic reflection that she was not entitled to pure white.

Jenny had dressed her mistress with loving skill, making sure that every glossy fold of fabric, every fall of delicate lace, was perfect. At the end, after pinning the chaplet of silk flowers in place and adjusting the veil that fell almost to Sara's heels, the girl had unashamedly wept. "You're the most beautiful bride there ever was, my lady," she whispered. "And you'll be happy. I know it."

Sara had wished she shared her maid's optimism.

During the carriage ride to the church, her father had been resigned, neither glad nor disapproving. As he assisted her out at the end, he had said softly, "Ultimately we must all work out our own fate.

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