Cherrybrook Rose (15 page)

Rose met his gaze for a moment and then lowered her eyes, chewing on her fingernail. ‘Yes, 'tis true,' she answered hoarsely. ‘'Tis our changed circumstances as you put it that made me reconsider. And you know, Father, I'm
glad
!' She turned to him again, her eyes lit with a curious brilliance. ‘You know how hard I found it to turn Charles down before. How I just couldn't make up my mind. Well, this has all just made me realize my true feelings. I can't tell you how happy it made me to find Charles on the doorstep just now! I really am doing the right thing, I'm sure of it!'

But Henry was looking at her from under fiercely swooped eyebrows. ‘The right thing? What happened to that passion you spoke about so eloquently not so long ago? What happened to
love
?'

‘Oh, I do believe I love Charles,' she assured him, vigorously nodding her head. ‘Especially now I can see things in their proper perspective. I shall make him a good wife, and you can see how he is devoted to me. Fencott Place will be a wonderful home for us, just you wait and see!'

‘There's more to marriage than a wonderful home,' Henry persisted, his tone more solemn than Rose had ever known. ‘Friendship, trust. And have you . . . have you thought about children?'

His voice had become oddly husky, but Rose turned his wariness aside. ‘Oh, yes!' she cried with elation. ‘I should love to have Charles's children! And you'll be their beloved grandfather!'

Henry studied her exultant expression, and then he puffed out his cheeks with a reluctant sigh. ‘Well, you're twenty-one, so I can't stop you. But I do hope you know what you're doing! I only want what's best for you, my child, you know that.'

‘Yes, I know you do!' She flung her arms about his neck, hugging him tightly. ‘We'll all be so happy, I'm sure we will!'

Henry patted her back, his pale eyes misted. He prayed to God she was right!

‘Oh, Rosie, 'tis . . . 'tis proper lovely!' Molly breathed, twisting this way and that on the seat of the wagon in order to take in every detail, every angle, of the building that was Fencott Place. ‘I mean, I've seen it many times afore from a distance, but you cas'n see it properly cuz of the wall and the trees. And 'tis so big!'

‘Well, 'tis grander than Tor Royal,' Rose conceded modestly, but she could not contain her buoyant grin for more than an instant. ‘But you shall see every inch of it in a minute!' she laughed, dangling the keys tantalizingly in front of her friend's nose.

She swivelled round to climb down from the wagon, but Joe Tyler had already jumped down from the other side and come round to offer her his hand. She took it with a lively chuckle, thanking him with a jaunty flick of her head as they played the game, for hadn't all three of them been friends for years! Rose waited patiently, straightening her skirts, since she had retrieved her good dresses from the pawnbroker's. Charles would expect her to dress like a lady at all times, so she thought she might as well start now! She turned, just in time to catch the blush in Molly's cheeks as Joe helped her down from the high seat.

For some strange reason she could not herself fathom, Rose whipped about and stood with her back to them, feasting her eyes instead on the house that was to be her marital home. It was a mild spring day, a sea of daffodils in the borders against the dressed-stone walls bobbing their heads in the light breeze, and grape hyacinths coming into bud amongst them. Her heart gave a jerk as Molly appeared at her shoulder, and driving her qualms to the deepest recess of her mind, she linked her arm through Molly's as they waltzed up to the double front door.

‘This hallway's bigger than the whole of our flat!' Molly gasped, craning her neck in every direction as they stepped inside. ‘And 'tis so light and airy! Oh, Rose, you'm so lucky! Mr Chadwick must be so rich! A real gentleman! But then, only a gentleman'd be right for you! I told you you should marry 'en, didn't I? Oh, I be that pleased for you!'

She enfolded Rose in her arms, jumping up and down and dancing her round in circles until Rose was helpless with laughter. Oh,
of course
Molly was right! As they spun around the spacious hallway, the uncertain figure of Joe standing in the doorway flashed past her eyes, and when they came to a giddy halt, she waved playfully at him.

‘Oh, do come on in, Joe! There's only us three here, so make yourself at home! Wander round wherever you please! Go and have a look at the stables if you like. I'm going to open some windows and let some air in whilst we're here.'

Joe's crystal blue eyes shone with admiration. ‘Yes, thanks, Rose, I will. But first, where would you like me to put the things you've brought over?'

‘Upstairs, if you wouldn't mind, Joe. Turn right along the landing, and 'tis the door facing you at the far end. You can't miss it! 'Tis the biggest room up there, with a dressing room
and
a bathroom going off. There's another door to the bathroom directly on to the landing,' she explained to Molly as Joe went back out to the wagon. ‘'Tis so as when you've finished bathing and gone back into the bedroom, the servants can empty the dirty water without going through the bedroom.'

Molly shook her head with a fit of giggling. ‘Oh, my! And how many servants does ma'am have exactly?'

Rose pulled a mocking face. ‘I don't know yet. There's several servants' rooms in the attic. I'll show you in a minute. Now this is the morning room, but we've builders coming tomorrow and they're going to divide it into two for Father, so as he can have a bedroom and a dayroom. He'll have a lovely view out over the moor. Then there's the kitchen and scullery through there, the library – Charles will use that as a study for his business affairs – and the dining room and a drawing room.'

Molly put her lips together and whistled. ‘I think I'd lose myself in a place like this! You'll need so much to fill it!'

‘Well, once we have some beds, Father and Florrie and I can move in! Charles has told me to buy everything we need, so I wondered if you'd come with me, Molly, to visit some furniture makers in Tavistock and help me choose?'

‘I'd be honoured!' Molly's face stretched incredulously. ‘But won't Mr Chadwick want to choose hissel?'

‘'Tisn't really practical. He's trying to arrange his affairs in London so as he can have a complete fortnight down here for the wedding.'

‘And when is the big day?' Molly marvelled.

‘First week in June.'

‘And doesn't you miss him, with him being so far away?'

Rose felt her heart tear harshly. She did miss Charles. But did she miss him as much as she should?

‘Yes, of course,' she told Molly, but as much to answer herself as her dear friend. ‘But there's so many exciting things to do in such a short time that I really don't get a chance to miss him too much. And he will be coming down for a few days soon. Staying at the Duchy Hotel, of course,' she added as an afterthought.

‘'Twould be bad luck otherwise!' Molly observed with a grin that Rose couldn't quite comprehend.

‘Well, come on, Molly. There's still so much for you to see!'

She led the way, proudly, but sharing her joy in the house with Molly and watching the wonderment on the younger girl's face. There was something she would ask Molly, but not yet. She wanted Molly to get used to being at Fencott Place first, for she mustn't frighten her away, and besides, she must ask Charles's approval, though she was sure he would agree.

They spent more than an hour exploring every nook and cranny, making plans and mental lists, suggesting colours and designs, basking in a new-found fantasy world neither of them had ever dreamed of. Joe waited patiently for them, sitting up on the wagon, long legs dangling casually as he enjoyed his free Sunday afternoon. After all, he had nothing better to do, and just now he was finding it increasingly pleasant to be in the company of one young lady in particular, even if they had known each other since childhood.

At last, the two girls' heads were so brimming with ideas that they were feeling dizzy, and they agreed they should leave before they exploded! Molly scampered down the sweeping staircase, leaving Rose to shut all the upstairs windows. Rose cast one final glance around the massive empty bedroom she would share with Charles Chadwick, and a shudder of uneasiness shot down her spine.

She descended the stairs slowly. Regally. And stopped in the hallway. Molly had left the double front door wide open, and out on the driveway, Joe had hopped down from the wagon and was holding both of Molly's hands in his. They were standing so close, Joe's fair curls clinging about his head in the sunshine, and Molly's face lifted eagerly to his as if they would kiss.

A spasm of pain twitched at Rose's lips. The couple outside appeared so natural, the fondness between them so fitting. And wasn't that what Rose had once felt, that she wanted to marry someone she felt so at ease with? Someone more like Joe, for example?

And now she was to marry Charles Chadwick.

R
ose stood, and trembled, on the threshold of Princetown chapel, her face so pale that her skin had taken on the patina of ivory to match the glorious silk gown that clung about her slender figure and cascaded down over the small bustle in a frothy effusion of ribbons and lace. The organist deftly slipped from the subdued background medley into the rousing wedding march that boomed within the echoing walls and resounded like thunder in Rose's head. Her heart was crashing painfully in her chest and all she wanted was to pick up the hem of the splendid dress and flee. But a multitude of awestruck eyes had turned upon her, the entire community from the powder mills and many people from Princetown filling both sides of the church.

Charles had invited a mere handful of acquaintances from London to witness his marriage to this country bumpkin. Moreover, the church had been seriously damaged by fire several years previously, and being just a chapel-at-ease, lack of funds meant that it had only been partly restored. Signs of the fire were clearly visible, and Charles had protested that they should be married in Tavistock's lovely parish church instead. But Rose was adamant that her friends would find it difficult to travel so far, and Charles had not been able to refuse her pleas, even if he was reluctant to allow his own guests to see him married in a burnt-out shell, as he put it. But if they had questioned his sanity over his choice of bride, the instant they gazed on her ethereal beauty, they too fell under her spell. Her shape beneath the closely fitting garment was magnificent, and as she lifted her chin, her eyes spangled sapphire with determination. She was resplendent, and there was no man present who could honestly claim he was not a little envious of Charles Chadwick that day.

Rose squared her shoulders and glanced up at the bursting pride on George Frean's face. She smiled faintly, her cheeks frosted, as he walked her majestically down the aisle. He must have sensed her nervousness, as he patted her hand as it rested in the crook of his arm. Every nerve in her body quivered, but surely every bride had cold feet at the last moment? The question tore at her brain for one final time, and was then answered as her father, elegant and distinguished in a new suit, was wheeled forward in his spanking-new invalid chair to be at her side at the altar to give her away to her waiting bridegroom. Her father would want for nothing. He would live out his life, crippled but in luxury, and that was all Rose needed.

The thought set strength flowing through her veins. Henry was looking up at his beautiful daughter, smiling though she could see tears welling in his tired eyes. Rose shot him her most confident, reassuring smile, and then as her gaze fell upon the groom, the tense knot in her chest uncurled. Charles's adoring eyes were riveted on her, his face not so much smiling as stunned, enraptured by her loveliness, his mouth slightly open and totally stilled as if she had taken the breath from him. He looked so handsome, his deep chestnut hair brushed until it shone, his figure trim in its grey morning suit, every inch of him overflowing with obvious devotion to his radiant bride. Rose dipped her head demurely, her long lashes resting for a moment on her pearly cheeks. Charles Chadwick loved her passionately, and if she did not return his feelings with quite such intensity, there was still enough love between them to make a happy marriage.

Her voice lodged in her throat as she made her vows. Beside her, Charles's words were low and pronounced with reverence, and as he placed the ring on her finger, she noted with some sort of comforting content that his hands, too, were shaking. They moved to the vestry, Rose floating as if in a dream. Some light banter with the vicar as she signed her single name for the last time. The organ struck up once again as they walked back down the aisle arm in arm, the clamorous tones swelling the air with deafening sound, and when they stepped outside, the bells were pealing vigorously from their smoke-blackened tower. A sea of beaming faces then, guests shaking the groom's hand, and who could not resist kissing the cheek of the heavenly bride? She could not help but smile broadly at so many well-wishers, her countenance a picture of elation. As they climbed into the ornate open carriage pulled by two superb dapple-grey horses, she turned to the crowd. Her violet-blue eyes searched out her father, but he was lost to her in the milling throng. Instead her gaze landed upon Molly's grinning face, Joe beside her, waving his hat merrily at the bride, his other arm around the pretty girl at his side. And Rose felt the thorn prick her heart at their happiness.

The wedding breakfast was held at the marital home. A string quartet played softly in the corner of the drawing room, and a sumptuous meal was set out in the dining room. Rose sat at the table, glowing modestly between her husband and her father. On Henry's other side, Mrs Frean was warm elegance personified, with Mr Frean on her right. Rose was acquainted with no one else, as they were all friends of Charles's from London, and she struggled to remember their names. All of them polite, and most of them not unfriendly, the meal passed quite pleasantly and Rose felt her uneasiness melt away. She could hold her own in the conversation, aware of Charles's approval beside her, and she felt proud that she had pleased him. She only wished that Florrie and Molly and Joe had been present. She had invited them, but they had declined, preferring to enjoy the festivities in the vast hired marquee in the garden. Food was laid out on three trestle tables, cider on tap from enormous barrels at one end, and after the feast, a little band of two fiddlers, a piper and a drummer played their lively tunes, and soon the marquee was bursting with merriment. Raucous voices were raised in enjoyment as dancers cavorted up and down, weaved in hopping, jigging circles, or swung round in partners until cheeks were flushed in giddy delight.