Chapter Fourteen
Tristan leaned against the rough stone wall, reflecting on the past few days’ events as he watched Clara Waterhouse direct an army of servants finish the final preparations for his wedding later that day. Saturday morning, just as the sun was peaking, over the horizon, Marcus and Patrick had left for Lawton. After breakfast, Tristan and Arabella had ridden into Wilton to speak to reverend Clarkson to confirm their personal details so that he could post the bans the following day.
Tristan had then penned letters to his sister Penelope, Buttons, and Mr. Solomon about his upcoming nuptials. He’d asked Penelope to tell their mother that he would be bringing Arabella home as the new Lady Rawlings and to warn their mother that if she tried anything at all, he would send her to stay with his sister Rebecca. While he’d not spoken to Rebecca in some fifteen years, he knew she was well off and had the funds to take care of their mother. In Tristan’s letter to Buttons, he had asked that Rebecca’s room across the hall from his bedroom be prepared for Arabella. He’d examined Rebecca’s room while he’d been looking for furniture to sell, and it had been relatively clean with a large white dressing table, matching nightstands, and a huge white armoire with flowers painted on it. It also had a large walk-in closet and an updated bathing chamber. It was a good room that he hoped would suit Arabella’s tastes.
Sunday, Tristan and Arabella had gone to church earlier, so that Tristan could pay his respects to his uncle, aunt, and cousins. Then, as they began to make their way into the church, they had encountered the Waterhouses. Mr. and Mrs. Waterhouse had wanted to meet their youngest children’s new friends. Mr. Waterhouse was a big bear of a man with grey sprinkled dark auburn hair, while Mrs. Waterhouse was a tall, elegant woman with light blonde hair. Victor Waterhouse, the eldest of the Waterhouse children, was a large, powerful man with his mother’s coloring and a ready smile. The Waterhouses had invited Arabella and Tristan to their home for luncheon after the service. While Tristan had been reluctant to go, he knew Arabella enjoyed Clara’s company, and Tristan had wanted to ask Mr. Waterhouse for his advice on investing his limited free funds.
The Waterhouses were a large, loving, and noisy family, the kind of family that Tristan had longed to have. Upon hearing that Tristan and Arabella had planned to marry on Wednesday, they had volunteered to help. Mrs. Waterhouse had insisted that she be allowed to make the wedding cake as well as other sweets for the festivities. Edgar had volunteered to supply musicians, Victor had offered to post notices of their wedding in all the papers while Mr. Waterhouse had volunteered to supply the food. Clara had asked to be allowed to plan and arrange everything. After some hesitation, Tristan and Arabella had agreed, what they thought would be a small affair was now growing into something much more lavish. Tristan had told Arabella that he was proud to be marrying her and didn’t want to hide the fact or appear ashamed of it that if the Waterhouses wished to throw them a large wedding, he wouldn’t stop them. After eating Clara had whisked Arabella off to the conservatory to show off her plants while Victor and Mr. Waterhouse had taken Tristan to Mr. Waterhouses office to discuss Tristan’s finances and offer him advice on investing.
Tuesday after lunch, Marcus had returned with not only his father but his mother and three younger sisters, Bonnie, Orla, and Flora. Marcus’ father, Magnus Berkley, looked nothing like a pastor was supposed to look; he was a huge, towering bear of a man with hands as large as plates, sky blue eyes, and white blonde hair. Mrs. Berkley, Fiona, was a tiny elfin woman with strawberry blonde hair, large deep blue eyes and a kind smile. Marcus’s sisters were also tall and blonde with sea blue eyes, and the kinds of looks that would have them all declared diamonds when they arrived in London. Bonnie was nineteen and sensible, while twins Orla and Flora were eighteen and full of good cheer and jests.
Reverend Berkley had secured the special license for Tristan, and said that he’d also announced the bans in his church as Tristan had desired. He had also said that he was thrilled to perform Tristan’s wedding as he felt Tristan was like his own son after so many years of writing to each other. Mrs. Berkley had also insisted that Tristan call her mother Fiona, as she felt she knew him, and after Tristan had saved her baby boy’s life twice, he was now her son as well.
Clara and Edgar Waterhouse had arrived at two o’clock with an army of servants, casks of wine and ale, baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables, as well as a large white tent, linens, and baskets full of flowers. Clara had taken over the cleaning of the inside of the house and setting up the dining room and music room, while Edgar saw to the setting up of the tent in the rose garden before the stone altar.
Tristan and Arabella had asked Clara and Edgar to stay for an early supper, and it had turned into a rather jovial affair, full of laughter and mirth as the Berkley’s had told amusing stories of life in their village and the mischief Marcus had gotten up to as a boy. After supper, Mrs. Berkley had played the piano so everyone could dance. The reverend had pulled a reluctant Mrs. Riley onto the floor, while Edgar danced in turn with Bonnie, Orla, and Fiona while Marcus had partner Clara for every dance.
Tristan had asked Arabella to dance with him and after much blushing she had agreed. Their dances had been awkward at first as Tristan struggled to remember the steps of the waltz and polka, but soon they were happily spinning about the music room in each other’s arms. At ten the Waterhouses had left and Elizabeth had ushered Arabella off to bed. Tristan had stopped her at the bottom of the steps for a long lingering kiss that had left them both breathless, before she’d turned and run off to bed.
“The army could use Clara Waterhouse; she has more organizational skills than most generals.”
Tristan turned to see Marcus behind him, dressed in only his shirt and breeches, eating a bacon sandwich. “Good morning, and you’re right,” Tristan replied, turning back to watch Clara direct several footmen in festooning the tent with flower garlands. “She has been here for hours, overseeing everything. Mrs. Waterhouse apparently sent three cakes, enough bread to feed an army, two roast turkeys, a ham, and fresh trout. She’s a rather remarkable young lady.”
“She is,” Marcus replied.
“I thought you were interested in Mrs. Riley?” Tristan asked.
“I was, but a man can only take so much rejection. Clara is smart, funny, and feisty wench who could keep a man on his toes for the rest of his life. She also likes the country and my mother and sisters got on like a house on fire, and she’s rather pretty.” Magnus replied before finishing his sandwich.
“Very true, you have the rings?” Tristan asked.
“Aye I do, there in the pocket of my good waist coat in my room. That valet fellow, Peter, Edgar loaned us has sent me to fetch you. He said he has to wash and cut your hair and give you a proper shave before dressing you.”
Marcus gave him a smile. “Are you nervous?”
“No not at all, I’m looking forward to it, actually. I have grown rather fond of Arabella. When my uncle suggested I wed her, he was doing me a great favor. She is a rather amazing and beautiful young woman. And you and I have never been ones to, well, neither of us are rakes or rogues. I enjoy a woman’s company as much as any man; knowing I have a lovely and willing wife at home is a relief. We both saw what the pox can do to a man,” Tristan shuddered. Neither Tristan nor Marcus had visited the brothels with the other, officers on their rare days off, earning them much teasing from the others but neither man had wanted to risk accruing the pox.
“And you don’t have to worry about marriage-minded mothers pushing their daughters at you; you will be a respectable married man. Now, come, we have to get you pretty for your wedding.” Marcus clapped Tristan on the back, earning a nod and a smile.
“If you keep smiling at Clara Waterhouse like you did last night, you’ll be the next one to marry,” Tristan replied.
“A man could do worse than a rich and pretty wife. Now come, let’s get you ready, it’s not every day a man weds.” Marcus replied. He paused for a moment to look back into the rose garden where Clara was standing on a chair so she could tie a light green ribbon to a tent pole, showing a rather trim ankle as she did. Aye, Clara was small but feisty with a ready wit and a beaming smile, a man could do worse.
* * * *
Arabella sat with her back ramrod straight, eyes closed, on the padded vanity table bench, while Mia, the lady’s maid, made the final touches to her hair. Mrs. Waterhouse had insisted that Arabella have the help of a lady’s maid for her special day. Arabella had been very appreciative as she had never had a ladies’ maid before. She’d always worn simple clothing that she could get out of on her own, always worn simple hairstyles that she could do herself.
“All done, miss, you can look now. You have such lovely, long red hair too. It was a pleasure to work with it,” Mia said, stepping sideways to place Arabella’s comb on the vanity table.
Arabella opened her eyes and gasped; she barely recognized the attractive young woman looking back at her. Mia had swept her hair up into an elegant updo atop her head and woven in ribbons of emerald green and moss green to match her eyes and the moss green lace that trimmed her ivory silk gown.
There was a quick knock on her bedroom door, “It is Elizabeth, may I come in?”
“Yes, it is open,” Arabella called, turning her head from one side to the other as she examined her reflection.
Elizabeth stepped inside the room. She looked like a princess in a light green silk gown that showed off her trim figure to perfection.
“Arabella, you look beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” Elizabeth gushed.
“So do you, “Arabella replied, looking at her friend in amazement.
“Thank you, I feel pretty too. I have something for you,” Elizabeth stated with a smile.
“For me?” Arabella gave her a puzzled look.
“Yes, these are mine. I thought you could borrow them,” Elizabeth held out a pair of small pearl earrings to her.
“Oh, thank you, they are lovely,” Arabella said. She took the screw backed earrings from Elizabeth and holding them up to her ears, screwed them quickly into place. “Mrs. Jenkins gave me some blue silk garters this morning. I feel positively decadent,” Arabella said with a blush.
“And this is from Sir Tristan; he asked me to give it to you.” Elizabeth held out a small square wooden box to Arabella. Arabella took the small dark wood box, wondering what it could be. The box was finally wrought with an inlay of a large flower made from four different kinds of wood.
“Well, open it, miss,” Mia prompted, the young maid moving to stand by her side.
“Oh yes, Arabella placed the box atop the vanity table and eased off the lid of the box. Nestled inside the box on a bed of black velvet was a silver chain, attached to the chain was an inch-wide heart shaped medallion with a smaller amethyst heart in the middle.
“Miss, it matches your ring, and it is ever so lovely. Your gentleman must be ever so thoughtful and kind,” Mia gushed. “Shall I put it on for you?”
“Yes, please,” Arabella replied.
As Mia was placing the necklace around her neck, there was another knock on her door.
“Miss, Miss Arabella, it’s Jenkins.” Came Jenkins’ voice.
“One moment, please let him in, Elizabeth,” Arabella asked as she turned to examine the medallion in the mirror on her vanity table.
Elizabeth nodded and moved to the door to let Jenkins into her room. Jenkins was dressed in a fine black suit and a silver waist-coat; he looked like a fine gentleman of the ton and not a butler.
“Oh, Miss Arabella, you are a vision, Sir Howard would have been so proud, as would have your mother. Mr. Tristan asked me to walk you down the aisle, Miss, that is, if you would like?” Tristan asked.
Arabella smiled in delight. She had thought she would have to walk alone down the aisle, but having Jenkins give her away was a thousand times better. Arabella walked up to Jenkins and kissed him on the left cheek, making the old man blush.
“Thank you, that would be wonderful. I was afraid I would have to walk alone,” Arabella replied as he stepped back into the hall and then offered his arm to Arabella.
Arabella took Jenkins’ arm with a smile and let him escort her down the corridor and then down the wide steps to the foyer. At the bottom of the steps, Clara waited for her holding two bouquets made up of pink and white rose buds and tied with emerald green ribbons. Clara, who had agreed to be a bridesmaid, was wearing a light green silk gown that set off her dark auburn hair. Arabella took a moment to appreciate her new friend’s looks; Marcus would be a fool not to pursue her, she thought as she took one of the bouquets from her friend.
“Arabella, you are beautiful, absolutely beautiful, you shall dazzle Sir Tristan , I’m sure, and Elizabeth, you look lovely as well,” Clara said, stepping back.
“Thank you,” Arabella replied, moving forward to allow Elizabeth space to step off the stairs.
“Everyone is in the garden,” Clara said.
Arabella took a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach and then nodded.
“I’m ready,” Arabella said, and she was. She was ready to marry Tristan and to start a whole new chapter of her life.
* * * *
Tristan stood at the altar beside him; was Marcus who was as his best man. A few feet past Marcus was Edgar who had agreed to be his groomsman and a witness. He and young Edgar were on their way to becoming good friends and the affable young man had been a great help in getting everything ready for his hasty wedding. Reverend Berkley gave him a smile as he fidgeted with his prayer book.
Tristan pulled out his pocket watch to check the time again.
“She’s coming, I promise,” Marcus whispered.
Before Tristan could reply, there was a gasp from the guests behind him, and Tristan turned to see the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen gliding towards him. Arabella was a vision in ivory and green, with long ribbons blowing about her shoulders as she walked towards him. She looked like a fairy queen come to life surrounded by roses of every shade. Thin beams of late afternoon light illuminated her hair, making it gleam with light, giving her the appearance of glowing.
“You are one lucky bastard,” Marcus whispered in his ear as Arabella floated closer.
Tristan could only nod in agreement as he couldn’t find the power to speak. Jenkins walked Arabella up to him breaking the spell that seemed to hold him.
“Here you are, miss,” Jenkins said, taking Arabella’s hand off his arm and giving it to Tristan. Arabella nodded her thanks to Jenkins and then kissed him on the cheek again. Jenkins had always been more than a butler to her; he’d been like a beloved uncle, always there when she was at Avondale, always ready with a smile and a kind word.
Arabella couldn’t believe how handsome Tristan looked, like a prince from a storybook with his shining dark hair and broad shoulders. Arabella looked up into Tristan’s face and was soon lost in his deep blue eyes, and time seemed to stop. Then she felt him squeeze her hand, and time returned. Then she looked up at Reverend Berkley’s smiling face, and everything but the reverend and Tristan’s hand holding hers faded away.
* * * *
The quartet finished a waltz, and Tristan escorted Arabella back to the head of the table, his hand never letting go of Arabella’s smaller one. Tables had been set up in the large music room so that the couples could eat and dance as they wished. The French doors had been opened into the garden, to allow in fresh cool air, and the musicians had been placed in the open doors. When they reached their places at the table, Tristan pulled Arabella’s chair out for her as a footman appeared beside them.
“More cake sir?” The young man asked.
Tristan shook his head, he was stuffed after the sumptuous late lunch they’d enjoyed of turkey, trout, and ham. The Waterhouses had not only sent food and staff but a cook to prepare the wedding feast. Mrs. Jenkins had been put out by the fact that she’d not be allowed to prepare the meal; until Tristan had told her that today she was an honored guest and not a member of staff. That, after all the years that she had taken care of the Sizemores and then Arabella, Tristan and Arabella thought of her as family. Mrs. Jenkins had cried and hugged Tristan before complaining she had nothing to wear.
“Oh yes please, more chocolate cake if there is any?” Arabella asked and the footman nodded before cleaning up Tristan’s dirty plate and silver wear.
“Yes my lady, tea sir? Or more wine?” The footman replied, turning to look at Tristan.
“Tea, thank you.” Tristan replied, he’d had several glasses of wine already and he feared if he drank anymore he’d loose his senses. The footman gave another nod and hurried away.
“He called me lady, oh my I’m, lady Sizemore now, or is it Rawlings? I never thought to ask?” Arabella had forgotten that Tristan was a lord.
“Technically, I’m the earl of Banbury and Rawlings, but that is too much of a mouthful, so I go simply by Sir Sizemore or Lord Rawlings. But if some witch like Miss Lucinda gives you a problem, you can have them call you Countess Sizemore of Banbury and Rawlings.” Tristan replied and saw Arabella smile.
“Oh my, that is a mouthful, I shall have to think about it,” Arabella replied. “I want to thank you for my necklace, it is lovely, and you looked so elegant today.”
“I’m glad you like it, I bought it from the same shop I bought the ring at, it has been hidden in my trunk for almost six years waiting for the right woman.” Tristan replied, he leaned forward to brush a stray curl behind Arabella’s right ear.
“I am honored that it was me,” Arabella replied, her gaze falling to Tristan’s lips.
“You were more than worth the wait; you took my breath away today. When I saw you walking towards me I thought I was looking at a fairy princess.” Tristan leaned forward to press his lips against Arabella’s, hearing her sigh softly as he did. Footsteps approached and Tristan broke the kiss and sat back to see Reverend Berkley and his wife before him.
“Ah, Tristan, Arabella, it has been a lovely celebration and we thank you for including us in your special day.” Reverend Berkley said.
Tristan stood, and held his hand out to the reverend who gave it a hearty shake as Marcus and his three sisters joined his parents.
“It is I who wishes to thank you, you did Arabella and me a great favor in coming here to marry us,” Tristan replied.
“Think nothing of it, it was my pleasure, and I promised Fiona I would accompany her and the girls to London. I haven’t had a vacation or been away from my parish in thirty years. I have a new curate who has been eager to have a chance on his own.” Reverend Berkley replied. “I will personally deliver my copy of your marriage certificate to the archdiocese in London, and see that all the correct paper work is taken care of for you. It is the least I can do for the man that saved my sons life twice.”
“Thank you, sir; it will take a great weight off my mind.” Tristan had been worried that his hasty marriage might be questioned but having the reverend deliver his license would assure that everything was legal and above board.
“My, pleasure, my pleasure son, we all look forward to seeing you in London,” The reverend replied.
“Now we are leaving. We are all going to spend the night in Marcus’s house down the road, so you two can have some privacy,” Mrs. Berkley said with a smile.
“But the house still needs a cleaning,” Arabella protested, shaking her head.
“No, it is fine, dear. Mrs. Waterhouse sent several maids there yesterday, and they scrubbed it all from top to bottom and polished everything. She even gave Marcus new linens for all the beds, now we shall see you all tomorrow about eleven.” Mrs. Berkley leaned forward to pat Tristan on the cheek, and then turned around, looking up at her towering children. “Come along now; say your thank you’s it’s time to go.”
The clock on the fireplace mantel at the end of the room chimed eight; they had been eating and dancing now for six hours. No wonder everyone appeared so tired.
“But mother, we want to dance more,” Bonnie protested, casting a mournful eye over at Victor Waterhouse.
“Yes, yes, you can dance more in London; now let’s go the couple needs their privacy,” Mrs. Berkley stated. She stepped up to her daughters and gave them a push. Orla and Flora turned to give Arabella and Tristan a curtsey, then said thank you in unison before turning and following her family away.
“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Marcus gave Tristan a wink then walked towards the door of the dining, pausing to speak to the Waterhouses and then wrap his arm around Colonel Hamilton’s shoulder and propel him towards the door. Colonel Hamilton had been invited as he was one of the few members of the local gentry that Tristan and Arabella liked. The Belmonts had not been invited as no one could stand them, and Tristan and Arabella had feared a repeat of the disastrous dinner party at their house.
After the Berkley’s left The Waterhouses approached them, Mr. .Waterhouse in the lead followed accompanied by his wife.
“Thank you for inviting us Sir Tristan we had a wonderful time. The staff will return tomorrow to take down the tent and clean up.” Mr. Waterhouse said.
“It is we who should thank you, without you and Clara’s hard work we would have had a simple celebration in the garden. You truly made this a special day for Arabella and I, you will forever have our gratitude.” Tristan said holding out his hand to the older man who gave it a hearty shake.
“Well you are very welcome, it was our pleasure I assure you. When we get to London I’ll send you a note and you can come visit us to discuss ways to help you. I understand that your house is not far from ours.” Mr. Waterhouse said, “Come dear we need to go before it gets to dark.”
“Oh, yes, yes and you were a beautiful bride Arabella, simply beautiful. I look forward to seeing you both in London.” Mrs. Waterhouse said giving Arabella a beaming smile.
“Thank you both for everything and the cakes were the best I have ever had,” Arabella replied, and saw Mrs. Waterhouse smile.
“I’m so glad you liked them, I love to bake , good night and best of luck I wish you every happiness,” Mrs. Waterhouse gave Arabella and Tristan a last smile then took her husband’s hand and followed him from the room to the door where Mr. Water house paused to speak to his children.
Clara, Edgar and Victor nodded to whatever their parents said, then walked quickly across the room towards Tristan and Arabella.
“Well it is time for us to go, I look forward to seeing you both in London,” Clara said. “And don’t forget you both promised to help me with my book. I have your address in London and I’ll write you my ideas, and Arabella don’t forget to send me your recipes for the book.”
“Thank you for everything Clara, you were amazing.” Arabella stated smiling at her new friend.
Clara blushed, “Oh I was happy to help and it was fun. Mother has been training me to host celebrations since I was a child; I should thank you for trusting me to do it. And I can’t wait to see you in London we shall have so much fun.”
“Clara Bell you’ll see them soon, off you go. Mother and father are waiting,” Edgar teased his sister.
“Oh, yes, and I’m so happy for you both and a bit jealous,” Clara leaned across the table to give Arabella and awkward hug then turned to hurry after her parents.
“Right I’ll make it quick, congratulations to you both and I also look forward to seeing you all in London. Being on the fringe of society as we are it’s nice to make friends with a member of the gentry. Once I’m back in London I would to put both you and Marcus up for membership in both the Athenaeum club and Boodle’s, my treat. Now I’d better go before father gets testy.” Edgar said.
“Thank you, for everything,” Tristan said offering his hand to the younger man.
“You are most welcome, don’t let on in London, but I was happy to help, gave me something to do other than helping Clara with her plants or listening to lectures on finance from father. Best go and congratulations,” Edgar gave Tristan and Arabella a smile then hurried off after his sister.
“Right, I’ll make this quick, thanks for a wonderful time, and I shall be in London on business next week and shall stop by your home if it is all right. I would like to discuss with both of you using your illustrations for Clara’s book on plants,” Victor said.
“Yes, that would be agreeable,” Tristan looked over at Arabella, who realized Tristan was waiting for her answer as his wife.
“Oh, yes, most agreeable, it will be wonderful to see someone I know in London. I’m a bit nervous about being there.” Arabella confessed.
“Ah, well, don’t worry, I shall happily show you all about, and good night and best of luck.” Victor gave them a dazzling smile then hurried after his family.
Tristan helped Arabella, sit then sat back to enjoy his tea, watching while Arabella bit into her cake, her eyes closing in pleasure as she ate it.
The quartet began playing another waltz and Jenkins ushered Mrs. Jenkins onto the floor.
“Would you like one last dance wife, then I’ll tell the musician to go?” Tristan asked.
Arabella nodded, she took another bite of cake and slid her hand into Tristan’s letting him help her up. They made their way around the empty tables to the floor, earning smiles from the Jenkins as they joined them.
Tristan took Arabella into her arms, pulling her far closer than propriety allowed. After a moment Arabella rested her head against his shoulder as Tristan guided her about the floor.
Tristan enjoyed the feel of Arabella in his arms, the scent of her perfume, and a subtle scent of sunshine and flowers that was all Arabella. It felt wonderful to hold her so close, knowing that this magical, amazing woman was now his.
Arabella looked up at Tristan and smiled, then she pressed herself closer to Tristan’s chest.
“Can we dance like this in London? It feels wonderful to be held so,” Arabella said.
“As often as you wish, and I agree it is marvelous to hold you so.” Tristan replied. The music ended and Tristan reluctantly released Arabella as the Jenkins applauded the musician. “Wait here a moment Bella, I’ll send the musicians home then escort you upstairs.”
“Yes, of course,” Arabella replied.
Tristan gave her hands a squeeze, then he stepped away to go thank the exhausted musicians. Tristan thanked the men for their music, invited them to stay the night if they wished and then handed each of the musicians a pound. The musicians thanked him heartily, then Tristan turned back to his bride as Jenkins stepped forward to deal with the musicians.
Tristan held his hand out to Arabella, who took it with a smile. “Come, wife let’s go upstairs.”
“What are your plans for the night?” Arabella asked both nervous and excited at the same time.
“Well, not what you think. But to stop any wagging tongues, we should share a bed tonight,” Tristan said as he escorted Arabella into the foyer.
“Oh yes, you are right,” Arabella replied leaning against Tristan.
“If it is all right with you, I was thinking my chamber, the bed is bigger than yours. I was thinking I could sleep on the top of the sheet and you beneath, and I will not touch you unless you ask,” Tristan said as they paused at the bottom of the stairs.
“That is agreeable.” Arabella replied, “And if I want you to hold me?”
“Then all you have to do is ask my Bella,” Tristan replied, leaning over to steal a kiss, then escorted Arabella up the stairs to the first night of their new life.