Rebecca Page 27

  John Middleton had put aside his foolish love for Lady Foxbridge. Thinking back over the month he had pined for her, he knew that he had forced the facts to be what he wished. Since the confrontation in the church, both the lord and his lady had continued to be pleasant. It had shown him that he had misjudged the intentions of both of them. Not once had they mentioned the incident, and he knew that, as far as Lord Foxbridge was concerned, if he continued to work well for the parish, his living was guaranteed.

  He was willing to do almost anything to repay them for their kindness. This fanciful wedding appealed to him, for he had heard the nasty rumors about Lord Foxbridge’s family being unhappy with his bride. He had taken the stories as the sign of ignorance that they were. Anyone familiar with Rebecca Wythe knew she was a lady through and through.

  There was a problem over the guest list. Eliza wanted to throw the doors of Foxbridge Cloister open to everyone, but Rebecca limited those invited to the ceremony to twenty-five, for the chapel would hold no more than that comfortably. At the reception on the lawn afterward, everyone at the Cloister and in the village of Foxbridge would be invited as well as the gentry.

  While she was writing out the invitations, Eliza hesitated on the one to the mistress of Beckwith Grange. She had never liked her brother’s ex-mistress, for Clarisse had delighted in parading her beauty in front of a gawky teenager. With a wicked grin reminiscent of her brother’s, she addressed it. Clarisse deserved the humiliation of watching the wedding.

  With all the work that needed to be done, Saturday arrived very quickly. On the day of the wedding, the chapel was decorated with flowers from the gardens. The staff had outdone themselves in the effort to show their pleasure with the ceremony which could bring only happiness to Foxbridge Cloister.

  The chapel was in the oldest part of the original monastery. Unlike the newer section, it had no stained glass in its windows. The plain windows complemented the simple lines of the altar. Where the statues of the saint that the order had been dedicated to had stood, the niches were filled with vases brimming with seasonal flowers. Ribbons of light green were draped along the side of the half-dozen pairs of stone pews. The room had been opened and aired earlier in the week so it would remind no one that the last rite performed there had been the funeral services of Lord Foxbridge, Bradford Wythe.

  Slowly the small room filled as the guests arrived. Curtis greeted each one solemnly. He knew Eliza was upstairs helping Rebecca dress in a style which would reflect the wealth and honor of Foxbridge Cloister. He smiled. While everyone was thinking of weddings, it might be a good time to ask Eliza to announce their own plans. He had asked her to marry him the week before the ball at Sir Alec Carrollton’s house. Because of all the excitement happening since, she had not had a chance to speak to her brother about Curtis’ proposal. Without his permission, she could not be wed.

  “Good morning, Miss Beckwith,” he said, cordially. He was shocked that Clarisse intended to watch her ex-lover reenact his marriage to her detested rival. If he guessed right, she had some mischief planned to ruin the day. It would be amusing to see what she would attempt this time. He wondered if she would ever learn that she could not destroy the devotion between the Wythes by trying to seduce Nicholas from his wife.

  “Hello, Mr. Langston.” She glanced about the room. As usual, she was dressed elegantly. Her gown was a gold which set off the highlights of her hair. It dipped deeply across her magnificent figure. Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she saw every eye on her. That was what she wanted. She placed her fingers seductively against Curtis’ sleeve. In a soft voice, she asked, “Where do you suggest I sit?”

  Curtis wondered whether she was offering him an invitation or whether she was unable to behave any other way with a man. “Mr. Carter had mentioned that he would save you a seat. He’s in the second row on the right.”

  She grinned like a cat who has sighted a bowl of cream. “That will be wonderful. Would you escort me there?”

  “It would be my pleasure to go anywhere with you, dear lady.” As he held out his arm, he admired her lovely form. She was not as petite as Rebecca, but her curves were fuller and he suspected she possessed the skills of a courtesan. If he did not want to be faithful to Eliza during their courtship, he might have considered a late-night visit to Beckwith Grange. He would be welcomed. His friend Jackson had told him of his enjoyable night with Clarisse after the picnic.

  When he had seated her next to Carter, who was immediately captivated by her charm, Curtis went back to stand by the door. He held out his arm when he saw the elder Mrs. Wythe approach. “Good morning, Lady Margaret.”

  She sniffed angrily. “If you say so. I shall be happy when this travesty is completed. Whoever heard of such a thing? A couple remarrying on their fifth wedding anniversary. Just an excuse for Nicholas to show off for that chit he married.”

  Curtis wisely said nothing to agree or disagree. Lady Margaret did not know that she was the only one in Foxbridge Cloister who thought this was foolish. Everyone else had joined in with the strange idea as if it were the newest fad. He chuckled to himself. It might be soon. The Wythes were the center of much gossip throughout the aristocracy. This odd wedding might be just the first of many. Of course, few were as devoted to each other as Nicholas and Rebecca.

  Eliza appeared at the door. She smiled as he bent to kiss her swiftly. “Everyone is here?”

  “All but Nicholas and Rebecca. Is she ready?”

  “She told me to come down. She’s on her way. Will you inform Nicholas and the minister?”

  After he had escorted her to the front pew to sit next to her mother, he went to the small door behind the altar and knocked. “All is set, Lord Foxbridge,” he said formally. Sitting beside Eliza, he squeezed her hand with a smile that told her they would be the next ones married in this lovely chapel at the far end of Foxbridge Cloister.

  A gasp of shock rippled through the guests as the door opened. Behind the pastor in his black robes came Nicholas. He was dressed in the uniform he had worn when he served with the British expeditionary forces in the New World. His bandoliers were pure white to match his new breeches beneath his scarlet jacket. The shine of his black boots reflected the candles burning on the altar. Although he could not help noting the whispered comments that rustled in the high-ceilinged room, he pretended to be oblivious to them. He hid his smile. The guests had more shocks ahead of them.

  Music came from the gallery as the doors at the back of the chapel were opened by Brody. The guests turned to view the bride. Again astonishment filled the room. Instead of the silvery confection she had ordered from Mademoiselle Pacquette, Rebecca was dressed in a frock of the plainest homespun. In her hands was a bouquet of wild-flowers instead of the roses in the garden. Her hair was braided simply and hung down her back, and her feet were bare.

  In a flash of comprehension, everyone understood that Lord and Lady Foxbridge had meant the invitations literally. It would be a reenactment of their original wedding vows five years ago. Although the child had matured into a woman and the man had lived through hell since that time, their devotion had grown into love.

  As Rebecca walked past them, the guests realized she was still one of the most beautiful brides they had ever seen. Her eyes did not leave the smiling features of the man who waited for her at the front of the chapel. He held out his hand to help her step up to the altar.

  “You look so pretty, sweetheart,” he said quietly.

  “I never saw you dressed like this, you know. It is quite impressive.” She laughed as her eyes roved along the uniform which accented his firm body. “We used to call men dressed in these red coats ‘lobsterbacks’ and other things far less complimentary.”

  His smile broadened. “I hoped to impress you. Most women like to see a man in uniform.”

  Her laugh rang out through the chapel, but nobody could hear her words as she whispered, “I would have preferred it to be Continental blue. You must admit it would have made things
much more simple.”

  “Can you love me anyway?” he teased.

  Her answer glowed on her face as they turned to the pastor who had been waiting patiently. Reverend Middleton had had some trouble getting this unusual ceremony sanctioned. His superiors had not been sure whether they approved of such an unconventional rite, but they did not want to do anything to alienate the man who had been so generous lately to the local church.

  The ceremony proceeded well until the point the minister asked for anyone to step forward if they knew of any reason for these two not to be wed. Being forewarned by the glitter of amusement in the bride’s eyes, John paused dramatically and looked at the groom with a smile.

  Clearly, Rebecca asked, “Well, Nicholas?”

  “I have no problems with this one, my love. Perhaps Reverend Middleton should hurry before someone leaps out of your past to stop this.”

  Eliza began to laugh as did the servants who were watching from the back of the room. Many of the other guests who had not heard how Nicholas had returned to Rebecca’s life so dramatically could not understand either their words or the amusement. Lady Margaret’s scowl only deepened.

  All amusement ceased as the smiling reverend led them through the exchanging of the vows. As if they were taking the promises for the first time, they stood hand in hand and gazed into each other’s eyes while speaking the words of their hearts. When Nicholas placed an ornate gold band on the bare, fourth finger of her left hand, she glanced at it in surprise. Two hands of gold held a heart-shaped emerald. Slowly her eyes rose to his.

  “With this ring, I thee wed, Rebecca Wythe,” he said. More quietly, he added, “This is the ring of the lady of Foxbridge Cloister. It has been off your hand for too long. Now you are, as I once promised you, my Lady Foxbridge.”

  He did not wait for the completion of the benediction as he swept her into his arms and kissed her with all his desire for her that increased with each passing day. Charmed by their obvious love, the minister hurriedly finished and stepped back.

  Slowly, Nicholas raised his head and said, “I love you, dear wife. It’s official, I’m afraid. It will be nigh to impossible to get an annulment now that we have been married twice.”

  Taking his arm, she grinned. “That was the whole idea. Did you think I would let you get away from me?”

  “Me away from you?” He chuckled as he led her up the aisle. At the back doorway, he turned and spoke to their guests, who were overwhelmed by the whole performance. “Dear friends and family, thank you for attending our wedding. As our first one was in a barn hiding behind animal feed, we thought it would be nice to celebrate our fifth anniversary this way. Please go outside to the garden. We will be with you as soon as we change into something a little more conventional.”

  Leaving their startled guests with that announcement, they ran up the back stairs to their suite to turn from Rebecca and Nicholas Wythe to Lord and Lady Foxbridge. The sound of their laughter lingered in the hallway after them.

  The servants rushed away to prepare the wedding feast for the many anticipated guests. As those in the chapel rose slowly from the pews, many of them turned to Eliza to demand an explanation of the odd behavior of her brother and his wife.

  Clarisse listened with no comment to how Rebecca had thought Nicholas dead and had been set to marry another man. The redhead’s envy doubled. Rebecca had two men who wanted to marry her, while Clarisse had none. She did not want to think that the bridegroom had asked her to marry him many years ago, but she had not thought him serious. Then she had not wanted to be married. Now … More than ever, she longed to see her rival gone from Foxbridge Cloister. It was too bad Nicholas had arrived to stop the other wedding. She would have preferred to see Rebecca shamed as a bigamist.

  When she saw the glower on Lady Margaret’s face, she realized Nicholas’s mother was no more pleased with this ridiculous ceremony or the whole marriage than she was. She would have to remember that. It might come in very handy when she had devised a way to repay Rebecca for stealing Nicholas.

  Married in a barn, indeed! Probably because he had tumbled her in the haymow above, and she had feared she was with child. She need not have worried. They had been together for months, and there was no sign of the long-awaited heir.

  Richard Carter offered to escort her out to the garden. Pasting on a false smile, she accepted. He was a fine-looking man, but beside Nicholas all others paled. She would let him charm her, and perhaps he would help her forget that Rebecca would be sleeping wrapped in Nicholas’ love. Richard was one man she had never been able to convince to share her bed on a whim. He wanted a long-term relationship with her, but she was not interested in being Mrs. Richard Carter. She wanted to be Lady Foxbridge.

  Upstairs, the newlyweds were laughing as they entered the suite. Collette and Gilmore met them with happy smiles. They chuckled together about the guests’ shock over their choice of clothes. Only these two loyal friends had known their plans. The maid took her lady’s arm and led her into the second bedroom, where she would prepare Lady Foxbridge to prove she could be both a backwoods lass and a fine court lady.

  Nicholas was pacing impatiently in his tan wool breeches and green brocade coat when Rebecca finally emerged. His eyes widened. Her dress was made of spun moonlight. Swaths of material fell along the front of the skirt in tiers. At each side they were held up by white velvet ribbons decorated with pearls and glitter. The bodice was cut in a heart shape to accent her lovely figure and was completely without decoration. On the sleeves which ended at her elbows were wide bands of silver-edged lace dropping halfway to her wrists. In her upswept hair were laced silver ribbons and pearls to match those on her gown.

  When she twirled around, he saw the layers of stiff petticoats had been decorated with the same silver ribbons. Even her slippers were silver. “Well?” she asked.

  “My dear Rebecca,” he said, “I am overwhelmed.” He reached out and pulled her to him. Bending, he whispered in her ear, “I would say I have only seen you lovelier on one other occasion.”

  “When?”

  “When you lie in my arms in the other room, sweet one,” he said softly, before he captured her mouth with his. He did not worry about crushing the dress as he explored the contours of her inviting mouth.

  Regretfully she pulled away and said, “Remember out guests downstairs? They are waiting for us.”

  “Let them wait!” he retorted.

  She laughed and twirled out of his arms. “This party was your idea. You must play host.”

  “Only if we can have our honeymoon later.” With a roguish grin, he took her hand and walked sedately by her side down the stairs.

  On the lawn most of the shire was present. The tables of food were the center of attention until someone noticed the bride and groom approaching. Immediately a cheer went up from the staff and the villagers. Like an unstoppable wave upon the beach, the smallest village children ran forward to greet their beloved Lady Foxbridge. As one, they stopped to stare at the fancy lady dressed in what looked like fairy wings. When Lady Foxbridge visited them, she had worn a work dress not so different than what their mothers wore. They were unsure how to treat this fine lady.

  Seeing the confusion on their young faces, Rebecca bent down. “Hello, children. What’s wrong? Aren’t you enjoying yourself at our party?”

  “Is that you, Lady Foxbridge?”

  She smiled. “Yes, Timmy. I’m Lady Foxbridge. Aren’t you dressed in your best clothes today?” She pointed to his breeches that, for once, were not patched at the knees. “Well, so am I. This is how I look when I dress up fancy.” She stood and turned about slowly for their inspection. “What do you think?”

  Instantly they all were complimenting her beautiful gown. Nicholas laughed aloud when a little girl wondered rather wistfully if it was made of sugar. When one asked if they could touch it, Rebecca agreed. A dozen sets of eager fingers caressed the material they would never wear.

  “Go and play,” she urged them. �
�I have to talk to the adults, too. Maybe later, you can sing for us again.”

  Delighted, the children ran among the flower beds. Rebecca looked at her gown that was not so silver-white as it had been. Along the full skirt, small finger marks were visible in colors matching the food being served. It did not upset her.

  Nicholas said softly, “Perhaps it’s time to think about that heir who interests everyone, sweetheart. You have a magic with children.”

  “In time.” She looked at the house. “There is room for many children. I have been thinking that one of the unused monk’s cells might make an excellent schoolroom for the village children.”

  “School? Here?” The idea was astounding. “Who would teach it?”

  “I would, Nicholas. I taught when I lived in Connecticut. If these children learn to read and write, they will be more able to make good lives for themselves when they are adults. You have mentioned over and over that it is hard to find educated employees out here. If you are willing to wait a few years, I can guarantee you that you will have many to choose from, for these children are hungry to learn.” She smiled coyly. “Also it will give our little ones playmates when they are old enough to attend the school.”

  He saw she was serious. Although he had never given such an idea a thought in the past, he knew soon there would be a school at Foxbridge Cloister for the village children. Once Rebecca got this determined glitter in her eyes, no one could stop her. “We will make the plans for it later. Today is our wedding.” He led her over to where their guests were waiting.