AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It is more than alright, it is perfect,” Eleanor reassured her, reaching out to grasp her friend’s hand. “Darling Marion, are you not excited to be marrying him?”
“I - I am, I suppose,” Marion stuttered. She was unsure if what she felt was excitement or dread. When she thought about Simon seeing her in this beautiful gown, looking so regal and ladylike, it was like her stomach was turning inside out. She was both eager and terrified.
“But you - you do harbour some affection for him, do you not?” Eleanor pressed.
Marion looked out of the carriage window, wondering how far away they were from the church. On the one hand, she was dreading their arrival, but on the other hand she felt as if she could not bear to wait another second. That if she lingered a moment longer the opportunity to be Simon’s wife would be snatched from her grasp. Still, she did not feel like she could even let her best friend know the true depth of her feeling.
“I … I am attracted to him, a little, yes,” Marion confessed, fixing her eyes on the stunning posy of pink and white peonies that made up her wedding bouquet. “And … and he is undoubtedly a kind and generous man.”
“That’s wonderful!” Eleanor gushed, smiling up at Marion from her beautiful face. She looked exquisite on this day, acting as matron of honour for her best friend and wearing a truly lovely pink gown. When Marion looked at her, she caught some of the fevered excitement that was etched onto her face, but her words did not encourage her.
“Is it?” Marion sighed wistfully, staring out the window at the passing trees. “He can never return my feelings, so I fear they will only lead me to certain heartbreak.”
Eleanor watched her best friend carefully, frustrated by her attitude. Marion truly had no idea how beautiful she was. She had not a clue how eligible she seemed and how thoroughly she must have caught the affections and attentions of Simon if he had been prepared to marry her to protect her reputation.
“Why?” Eleanor tried to keep her voice neutral, hoping to draw out the feelings of her closest friend. “A man can change. It is possible.”
“If he ever were to love again after his wife, it certainly wouldn’t be me.” Marion sighed again. “He deserves someone so much better.”
“Better than you?” Eleanor snorted derisively. “There is no one better!”
“You say that because you love me and do not see social status as important, but he is a nobleman, Ellie. I am only a governess.”
Eleanor held her friend’s hand tightly, wishing she could imbue her with some of the faith in her abilities and charm that Eleanor had. Marion had never been able to see herself truthfully. Eleanor hoped that in marrying Simon, she might finally find someone who could love her as she deserved. But it would only happen if Marion was open to it.
“If you guard your heart, then you miss the joy of letting someone in,” Eleanor said quietly. “Please, think about it.”
Marion looked at Eleanor carefully, and then nodded slowly.
“I shall. But I shall not risk getting hurt, Ellie. I could not stand it.” Marion squared her shoulders. “This is a marriage of convenience, not of hearts.”
Eleanor nodded dismally and climbed down out of the carriage, holding the door open for the bride. She only hoped that being married would soften the hearts of both her stubborn, guarded friends.
* * *
Marion stood outside of the church, waiting for her cue in the music to enter. For the first time in a long time, she felt the pang of her absent father, who had abandoned both her and her mother when she was only three years old. The last time she had felt this sense of abandonment had been when Eleanor had come out in society, and her father had arranged her first ball. Marion had watched the father and daughter dance together and felt a stab of sadness that this was one experience she would never have. Now, with her mother dead and her father gone, she must walk down the aisle alone.
“Mon Dieu, Maman,”she whispered, tweaking the veil in front of her face and making sure she wouldn’t trip on it. “How I wish you were alive to see this. Watch over me. Don’t let me trip!”
Crossing herself quickly as she finished her prayer, the doors to the church swung open and a hundred faces turned to look at her. Marion felt as if a bucket of ice had been plunged over her head, but she could not freeze up. Focusing on the stone flags of the steps, she climbed them slowly and entered the chapel, walking down the tiled aisle with careful, deliberate steps.
She tried not to look left or right as she walked, afraid as she was of seeing people’s sneering faces or hearing the snide comments, but she was aware of a low hush of awe and surprise as she walked through. Eleanor’s choice of gown was doing the trick. The assembled gentry were shocked into silence at how beautiful and suitable she looked. She even caught the grudging glare of Lady Henrietta, who seemed unable to sneer at such a perfect wedding ensemble.
Finally, after what seemed to be an age, she reached the altar. Simon turned to look at her, and she was surprised to see a shock of admiration on his face, followed by a slow, dazzling smile. It unnerved her, but also made her blush happily. She had done it. She had presented herself as a suitable bride! She hadn’t embarrassed him.
As they stood side by side during the first hymn, Simon whispered quietly under the loud voices of the congregation,“Are you alright?”
It was so kind of him to ask, but Marion was overwhelmed with possible answers. Was she alright? Really? She felt perhaps the least alright she had ever felt in her life, and there was nothing to be done about it but to keep going! The only way out was through.
“Yes,” she whispered back. “Are you?”
“Holding up,” he whispered, giving her a slow, sardonic smile.
He was nervous too, she realised suddenly. He was anxious to be standing up in front of everyone as well. It wasn’t just her. The thought that they were both in it together was so relieving she could have laughed, but instead she just rewarded Simon with a sly smile and a quick wink, with which he looked very pleased and seemed more comfortable.
Just this little interaction was enough to make her relax, take a deep breath, and get through the service. It flew by her, words and responses and vows and prayers and hymns and Holy Communion, all of it required her only to stand when she was told, kneel when she was told, and speak when she was told. She followed the instructions automatically, grateful at least that someone was guiding her through this bewildering process. Then, before she knew it, it was done.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the vicar smiled between the two of them. “You may kiss the bride.”
