The Widow and the Rogue by Beverly Adam

Author:Beverly Adam
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Lachesis Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

They left Dublin the following week. The wedding of Lady Fitzpatrick’s niece, Lady Beatrice O’Brien to Captain James Huntington, the new Earl of Drennan, was approaching. Lady Agnes was on tenterhooks in her eagerness to return to Urlingford. She wanted to ensure her niece was wed to the dashing earl in the grandest manner.

No repeat of the gunman incident had occurred since that foggy day on Saint Stephen’s Green. The precautions were lifted, and Kathleen once again experienced the freedom of being able to take her rambling, solitary walks.

Tim, no longer tied to a leash, thrived in the countryside. He exuberantly ran across the green hills. In no time he doubled in both weight and size, removing any remaining fears she held concerning his health.

The wedding day of Lady Beatrice O’Brien to the Earl of Drennan was everything one could hope for. The sun hung like a bright yellow rose in the clear blue sky, and although it was early spring, a thin layer of white frost covered the ground.

The Drennan Chapel’s pews were filled to capacity. The aristocrats were seated in a segregated part of the church nearest the altar. Many of the castle’s tenant farmers stood in back, observing the sacred rite between their master and his soon to be new wife.

The paths leading to the chapel were decorated by the villagers with arching branches of evergreen and wildflowers. Inside the sanctuary itself green ivy tendrils decorated the end of the pews and the altar. Bouquets of Burnet Rose, a wild white rose that grew in abundance nearby, festooned the green centers.

Bagpipes echoed across the nearby hills as Lord Patrick O’Brien, the father of the bride, greeted the invited at the door with, “Peace be with ye . . . come in friend . . . aye, ’tis a grand day for a wedding.

The very rich, as well as the poorest of the poor, attended. Peasants who lived in roadside mud and straw huts known as scalpeens, stood humbly outside.

These impoverished peasants hoped to catch coins the newlyweds would toss after the service for good-luck. Later they would be invited to eat at the long trestle tables set outside. It did not carry any weight with Lord Patrick how rich or poor they were. He intended to share the joyous event of the marriage of his only child with the entire village.

Upon seeing the beautiful bride walk up the stone steps of the chapel, men took off their hats in respect, and ladies curtsied. The bride was about to become the new mistress of Drennan Castle. She was a powerful landed lady, one of the few remaining Irish gentry. They owed their living and the well-being of their families to her and the Earl of Drennan. Their good fortune was the villagers’, as well.

Lady Beatrice O’Brien’s wedding gown rivaled Princess Caroline of Brunswick’s in embroidery, but instead of silver over silk, the Irish bride wore white lace over the rich fabric. The wedding gown had been crocheted by cloistered nuns from the local convent.

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