The Vicar's Daughter by Betty Neels

Author:Betty Neels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter SIX

THE DAYS UNTIL the wedding flashed by in a dream. Sometimes Margo woke in the night convinced that she was making a dreadful mistake, that she must have been out of her mind to agree to marry Gijs. In the small hours the future loomed, fraught with pitfalls: his family, his friends—and he had many, he had told her—the prospect of entertaining them, of buying the right clothes, and that lovely little house which he expected her to furnish. She would fall asleep again eventually, and when she woke it would be morning and all that mattered was that she loved him...

* * *

THEY WERE TO be married at eleven o’clock. Gijs came to fetch them just before nine o’clock.

‘This is most unorthodox,’ observed Aunt Florence, majestic in a new hat. ‘The bridegroom should never see his bride before she comes to him in church.’

‘In Holland,’ the professor told her placidly, ‘the bridegroom goes to fetch his bride with a bouquet and they go to be married together. Where is Margo?’

‘I’m here.’ She came quietly downstairs, feeling shy, anxious that he should like her outfit.

He crossed the small hall and bent to kiss her. ‘What a charming outfit, and I do like the hat.’

She smiled up at him, reflecting sadly that he might have been a brother or a cousin, even an old friend from his manner—certainly not a man in love. Sitting beside him in the Rolls presently, she reminded herself that he wasn’t in love with anyone, so why shouldn’t he fall in love with her? First she must attract his attention—the right clothes, an elegant house, entertaining his friends, a good hairdresser and the discreet application of the beauty aids recommended in the glossy magazines. All this must be done slowly; first she must get to know his family and something of his life. It would probably take years, she reflected, but it would be worth it.

Gijs kept up a flow of small talk as he drove, with Aunt Florence chipping in from time to time, but presently he said, ‘You’re very quiet, Margo—cold feet?’

‘No.’ She turned to smile at him. ‘What about you?’

‘Certainly not. I have always understood that bridegrooms dread getting married—dozens of guests, satin and wedding veil, bridesmaids, wedding cakes and getting showered with confetti—but since none of these will bother us I’m looking forward to being married.’

‘When I married your uncle,’ said Aunt Flo from the back seat, ‘he shook like a leaf throughout the service and he trod on my train.’

At the church, Gijs parked the car, handed Margo over to Sir William and went with Aunt Flo. Two minutes later they followed them, and as the church door was opened Margo was surprised to hear the organ. It would be old Miss Twittchitt playing: Margo could hear the wrong notes. She had played for years and no one would have dreamt of suggesting a successor. The verger was just inside the door, beaming at her, handing her a small bouquet as Sir William began to march down the aisle, sweeping her along with him.

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