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“I think that will quite do,” her mother said with a smile.
“I see I am out maneuvered,” The Dowager Wentwell said, pouting.
“And The Keegain Manor is not far from Bath either. I am sure The Earl of Keegain’s sisters will want to stay there,” Lady Shalace added.
“You do plan to invite them, do you not?” Neville asked.
“Of course,” Lady Charity said, thinking of all of her friends and how she wanted them to share her special day, even though quite often weddings were only family affairs. “And Julia is my dear friend. I was going to ask her to stand up with me.”
“Of course you will have all the Ladies of Bath surrounding you,” Charity’s mother intoned. “I am sure it will be a beautiful day.”
~.~
As it turned out, the day was not beautiful. It was windy and threatened rain, but nothing could dampen the joy in Charity’s heart. She was marrying her true love. Her friends were all here, and her mother stood teary-eyed and told her how beautiful she was, before she hurried to her seat in the parish church. Charity felt beautiful in a gown of blue silk, with a blue silk hat, trimmed with flowers. The neckline was decorated with Brussels lace, so that it was not too revealing, and a fine silk Spenser jacket was used for church, along with wristlet gloves. Afterwards at the wedding breakfast, she could shed the jacket if she became too warm.
Her father stood beside her at the back of the church, while she peeked at her handsome husband who awaited her at the front.
Lord Wentwell was splendid in his shirt of white linen and white silk cravat. His black cutaway jacket was open to show his white silk waistcoat embroidered with blue and green leaves. He wore black trousers, in his customary skin tight mode which was all the fashion, black stockings and black pumps. Charity thought he looked marvelous. She could still not quite believe that this man would be entirely hers by the end of the day. The thought brought a blush to her cheeks.
“You look so like your mother,” Lord Shalace said. “Beautiful and glowing with love.” He patted her hand on his. “Are you nervous, Charity,” he asked.
She smiled at him, exceedingly grateful that he was lucid today of all days.
“Not at all, Father,” She cleared her throat. “Well, perhaps a little,” she admitted. There is so much that could go wrong, she thought. It could pour down rain any minute. Thunder could crash, and Neville’s brother could go into a frenzy. Her father could forget who she was and leave her alone in the back of the church. She had much to be nervous about, but not about the man she was going to marry. About Neville Collington, she had no doubts. He may be a rogue, but he was her rogue.
Her father, misunderstanding her nerves, said, “Do not be so, Charity. Wentwell is a fine man, like his father before him, honest and generous to fault. Stern, when needed, but at his core, kind. I venture he will make a good husband, and a good father for your children.”
“Father!” Charity said aghast, but the thought warmed her heart. She thought of her children with those startling green eyes. She would have beautiful children if they all looked like her husband, and she admitted to herself, she too would offer them something in beauty and in wit.
“I hope you give him an heir,” Father said, “and many daughters, as beautiful as their mother.”
“Are you sorry Mother never gave you a son?” Charity asked suddenly.
“Only because you cannot inherit and I wished to give you the world,” her father said. “But no, Charity. Not really. No one could have been more of a joy to me, no matter your sex.” He patted her hand and asked, “Now, are you ready to meet your bridegroom?”
“I am,” she said, as the thunder rumbled outside, and her Father took a step forward. She held her breath as the storm crashed, but Edmund stood tall and straight by his brother, and did not seem to be bothered by the loud noises. Perhaps, she thought, there may, one day be a cure for him. On this of all days, she wanted to believe in miracles, for the fact that she was marrying her true love was the greatest miracle of all.
~.~
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The Duke’s Daughter~ LadyAmelia Atherton
by Isabella Thorne
The Duke’s Daughter
