Page 68 of A Fierce Wind

When the excitement settled, the adults took their places at the dining room table laden with a multitude of flowers. Filled with light, the room needed no candles.

In the center of the table beneath the crystal chandelier stood a fruited bride cake on a silver pedestal. Soaked in brandy, Freddie had witnessed the cook covering it with white sugar frosting. Surrounding the cake were platters of eggs, ham and asparagus served in the French style, set upon the table for the guests to partake as they would.

Ormer casserole, a specialty of Guernsey, was placed at both ends of the table. The shellfish, called abalone in the rest of Europe, was considered a delicacy.

Oranges, berries and brioches accompanied the meal as well as chocolate and tea.

Richard got to his feet, looking every inch the British earl. “A toast to the bride and groom,” he said, raising his glass of champagne.

The guests lifted their glasses into the air and drank of the sparkling wine.

Donet was next to rise from his seat. “The champagne is the drink of the Bourbons, appropriate for this celebration, I think. And this particular wine comes from my cellar in Saintonge, which my quartermaster and friend, M’sieur Bequel, retrieved at the outset of the revolution. I am glad I saved it for such an occasion as this.” He lifted his glass. “Let us drink to the happy couple and to peace between England and France when champagne will again flow freely.”

“Hear, hear!” said Philippe d’Auvergne. He had come from Jersey to be with them and had been engaged in an intense conversation with Giles about the situation in Brittany.

From across the table, Émile Bequel saluted Freddie. “Ye’ve done well, Mr. West. And now ye’re well spliced to the very end.”

“So we are,” said Freddie. He turned to Zoé and, with champagne in hand, said in a quiet voice, “To my beautiful bride, my wife, my love.”

“À mon héros,” said Zoé, tapping her glass to his. “You will always be my hero.”

She had given him a gold band for his wedding ring that he would proudly wear the rest of his life. “I’m glad you like the lavender stone of your ring, Pigeon.”

“Oh, I do. How did you know I love that color? It’s not as if I have worn it much since the revolution began.”

“I have my sources,” he said with a wry smile. “Not to be revealed.”

In one corner of the room, the children had their own table but frequently jumped up to seek out an adult. Once they had chocolate, however, Jack began giving his own toasts. “To your new parents, Pax!”

“Well,” whispered Freddie to Zoé, “since Pax is smiling and I hear no objection, perhaps he has decided.”

“Possibly,” she replied, “but Pax has grown close to Jack and Isabeau and he doesn’t yet know we will be making our home on the other side of the island.”

“Where are you to honeymoon?” asked Annie sitting on Freddie’s other side.

He smiled at the thought of their destination. “Our own private oasis on the west side of Guernsey.”

“You shall have to see our new home before you return to England,” offered Zoé.

“I expect we’ll be here for at least a week,” Annie said, glancing at Richard, who was absorbed in a conversation with Donet.

“We might be ready for guests by then,” Freddie said. He had told his sister of the home he’d acquired with Zoé’s dowry but, as yet, he’d not invited anyone to see it, save for Zoé, of course. Even he had yet to sleep in the house. He wanted to share his first night there with his bride.

Once the food had been eaten and the cake cut, Freddie nudged his bride. “Are you ready to leave, Pigeon?”

At her nod, he stood and thanked the guests for coming. “We’ll see you all in a week!”

Pax rushed forward to hug Freddie and, with wide eyes, looked up at him. “You promise to return?”

“Aye, I promise.”

It took them nearly an hour to reach St Saviour’s but they had not been in a hurry. Zoé was glad for the time with him away from everyone else. So often others surrounded them in France, on the ship and even in Guernsey.

Like the first time he had brought her to see the house, Freddie drove a one-horse chaise he called a cabriolet.

“The buggy is the only vehicle that fits these narrow country roads,” he told her. “’Sides, I can drive the cabriolet myself so we can be alone.”

Freddie had kept her entertained with stories of his smuggling days with Joanna that had ended when they’d encountered the fierce Captain Jean Donet one night off the West Sussex coast.