Page 65 of Mirrors of the Past

Chapter Twenty-Four

1911

The day of Elsie and Louis’ wedding — the twenty-second of December, the winter solstice — finally dawned. It was one of those beautiful winter days where the snow blanketed the ground, but the sky was blue, and everyone woke up in a cheerful mood.

Laurie and his entire family — including the Wheal Mount contingent — were in the Pencradoc London house and although it was a reasonably large property, they were practically falling over one another to get ready, or to take their turn with the seamstress, or to have their hair done, or to grumble about the arrangements for walking down the aisle.

Elsie had given them all very specific instructions. Zennor had a list with everyone’s names on and she was going to take it with her, but Laurie had committed it all to memory anyway. Words were his thing and it wasn’t hard for him to retain the information.

He recited it in his mind once more.

Isolde would precede the bridal party, along with Louis’ brother, Drew. As maid of honour and best man, it was only correct.

They would be followed by him, Laurie, with Viola and Marigold.

Then would come Medora and Biscuit. Oh, yes — Biscuit had travelled to London as well and was as excited as a puppy, exploring the house and garden and getting under everyone’s feet, his long tail wagging constantly. Medora and Biscuit would be accompanied by Fabian. And Biscuit was also the ring-bearer.

Coming after Medora, Fabian and Biscuit, were Clem and Evie.

They would be followed by Clara, and Lily’s eldest son, Albert. Then it would be Enyon and Lucy, Arthur and Nancy, and Mabel and Edward — Lily’s youngest son.

The bridal attendants, Laurie feared, would fill the aisle before the bridal party actually entered the place.

However.

The day before, on the twenty-first, they’d all arrived at the church for a wedding rehearsal, and Laurie preferred not to think of the jumble of excited girls and dour boys trying to find their places and step over dogs and toddlers — both of whom had also been over-excited — and argue over who had the best view and when could they expect to eat the wedding cake, please.

Louis had just looked worried — he’d admitted later that he could just imagine chaos descending over the place — and Elsie had beamed at everyone, wrapped up in a loosely fitted black walking coat she’d refused to take off.

Laurie had to wonder why. Everyone had guessed the reason for the speedy wedding, and, to be honest, nobody cared. And surely, the situation couldn’t be that obvious yet, but he had to allow his sister her foibles, the cross words between them a couple of weeks ago long forgotten.

More importantly, he had seen Viola there, for the first time since their snowy afternoon in Russell Square. They had nodded politely at one another and walked down the aisle as instructed, and not a bad word or argument had happened between them.

It was a Christmas miracle.

He wondered whether that time they’d spent together had shifted something in the atmosphere between them and he had been pleased he’d waited in the snow for her — he really had been. But he wasn’t sure whether she knew the reason for that pleasure or not.

All he knew, was that he felt a whole lot better in her company now and he was actually looking forward to the wedding and sharing the aisle with her.

Which made him feel a little odd and wonder whether, in some ways, it was something they were destined to do again at some point . . .

But no. He shuddered. It was the magic of Christmas and the idea he’d built up of her after that last meeting in Russell Square.

He found that he certainly did not dislike her at all now.

He found that, perhaps, he might even like her.

A lot.

Perhaps even love her.

Just a little.

Then he shook his head to clear it of such ridiculous thoughts and headed downstairs to the predicted chaos, as the bridesmaids and canine contingent got ready to clamber into a carriage and be delivered wholesale to Brunswick Square to meet the other bridesmaids — including Viola — and carry out their duties, and the male attendants waited, sullenly or otherwise, for the carriage that would take them to St George’s Church, Bloomsbury, to meet everyone there.

* * *

The wedding had been — perfect. Absolutely perfect.