Read Happy Is The Bride Online
Authors: Caroline Clemmons
"Yes?" Rachel looked at her.
She nodded at the bundle. "The bolt of silk is tied
with brown paper ready for you to take home. I want
you to have it."
"You can't mean it." Rachel's hand went to her
throat, and she beamed.
"Yes, I do. I could never enjoy it. Every time I saw it
I'd think of that silly bet."
Rachel frowned. "But you'll see me in it."
"It's not the same. I want you to have it. There's
some brown foulard and trims to go with it as well. If
you want me to, I'll help you make it up."
"After all the things I've said to you these past few years? I don't know how to thank you."
"No thanks are necessary. It'll look nice with your
coloring." Beth took another look around the bed
room.
Rachel followed Beth's gaze. "Will you miss this house? It's such a beautiful place."
"Maybe a little. I look forward to being with Mason
on the ranch, but I've lived here since I was eight."
She ran her hand along the side of the dark cherry
highboy.
Rachel met her gaze. "Yes, that's when we moved
into your old house."
Beth gasped. "I-I never realized you minded,
Rachel. Mother and Daddy wanted your parents to
have it, much better to have family instead of
strangers living there, but we never meant you to feel
bad."
"I know, and we were glad to move into it. I loved
the nice yard and having my own big room." She
looked at the floor. "I guess it was just me. I felt I lived
in your shadow."
Beth hugged her. "Oh, Rachel. I never knew that.
How terrible that I wanted to stay home but went away
to school while you wanted to go away but stayed here."
Beth smiled. "When I come up here to change dur
ing the reception, I'll be Mrs. Mason Whittaker."
The two went downstairs where Mr. Pendleton and
Beulah waited. Beth's father looked impressive in his
dress clothes. Beulah wore lavender cotton sateen trimmed with Irish point embroidered lace.
Beulah clasped her hands to her chest. "Don't you look good enough to eat? I knew you'd be the prettiest bride I ever did see." She gasped. "Begging your
pardon, Miss Rachel, but you know I'm as partial to
Miss Beth as if she was my own."
Emboldened by her near wedding, Beth faced her
father and asked something that had bothered her for
years. "Why don't you like the Whittakers? They're
nice people and have always acted friendly toward you
and mother."
"With all their money, you'd think they'd fix up
their home and set an example for others. Instead
they live out there in that house that's grown all
higgledy-piggledy, and they dress like ranch hands.
Socialize with them, too. Not at all the proper way
for people of substance to act."
Beth stared at her father. "You mean Mason's par
ents have as much money as you do?"
"Hmph. Reckon they don't know the responsibility
wealth carries. Have to set an example."
"Daddy, I expect they believe they are setting an ex
ample. They treat everyone the same and make
everyone welcome."
Mr. Pendleton shook his head. "Not the proper
thing, not at all. Have to observe the rules, social
order. It's how the country is organized."
From the top landing, Mrs. Pendleton cleared her
throat and started her descent. When Beth turned,
she caught her breath. Her mother wore possibly the ugliest dress in all creation. The dark yellow dress of
silk brocade turned her mother's beautiful skin a
shade resembling someone with severe jaundice.
The dress hugged her mother's small waist, but her
mother swam in yards of Chantilly lace in the same
sickening color. Lace epaulets graced the shoulders,
and a matching ruffle fell at the end of the long
sleeves. Several strands of beaded ribbon hung from
the epaulets, and the same beads decorated the front
of the brocade vest.
The expensive lace formed ruffles at her hips and
down the front of the dress, and around the base of
the skirt. Silk bows decorated the ruffles. The effect
was of gaudy and ostentatious excess. Beth's mother looked like a joke, a caricature of bad taste.
"Mother, that's not the dress that Mr. Henri made
for the wedding."
"I wired Mr. Henri the day you told us of your en
gagement to Mason. This arrived by courier only
yesterday. It's the very latest thing from Paris." At the
bottom of the stairs she held the skirt out. "Mr. Henri
insists this color is the rage in Paris and New York.
I'll be the only one in Ransom Crossing to have it."
And thank heavens for that. Beth remembered the
tasteful dress she'd chosen to be made for her
mother. The color had complemented her mother's
hair and set her complexion to glowing. "What about the lovely gray silk with the imported lace trim?"
Her mother pushed a curl into place. “That? Well,
I'll wear it some other time. There'll be plenty of oc
casions. Your father and I plan a trip to Europe now
that you're to be wed and not in need of us as chaperones." Then she spotted Rachel and narrowed her
eyes. She marched over and examined Rachel's dress.
"Bethany, surely that's not fabric from your China
crepe gown?"
"Yes, and I think it turned out rather well, don't
you? I like it even better than the original."
Over the yellow cast of her skin, Beth's mother fire red
dened with anger. "Do you realize how much that
cost? You've ruined a Paris gown to repair one that
will never leave the county."
Tears welled in Rachel's eyes. Beth put her arm
around her cousin. "But Rachel looks lovely enough to grace any Paris ballroom, doesn't she?"
"Hmph, yes, yes." Mr. Pendleton rubbed his hands
together. "Well, then, let's get on our way. The carriage is waiting under the portico."
The women swathed themselves in long cloaks and
held their skirts up. With the strong wind blowing out
side, Beth bundled her veil under her wrap. Once she
was safely inside the chapel, she'd have someone help
her set the silk orange blossom crown on her head.
Though the portico was covered, Mr. Pendleton carried umbrellas for their use at the chapel.
The closed coach set off with all five of them
crowded inside. Beulah and Mr. Pendleton sat facing
the other three.
Mrs. Pendleton adjusted her cloak to ward off the
window's leak. "We should have put up a screen at the
back of the chapel so people could change there."
Mr. Pendleton stared at the window. "Too late now,
Louise. I'm sure people will make provisions."
After a short but rough ride, they reached the
chapel. Dozens of wagons and buggies ringed the
churchyard. Much of the straw Mason and Rowdy had
spread floated on puddles or ran on the rivulets down
the slope.
Mr. Pendleton opened the door and stepped out.
"Bethany, you wait here until time for the ceremony.
I'll come back to get you and Rachel."
Beth leaned forward. “This coach is stifling with the
windows up. Hurry, or we'll boil."
Mrs. Pendleton pulled the hood of her cloak up
and gathered her bunched skirt up under her cloak.
Mr. Pendleton held the umbrella and offered his arm.
Beulah carried her own umbrella and made a dash
for the door. Halfway up the steps, the wind caught
the Pendletons' umbrella and turned it inside out.
Mrs. Pendleton screamed and rushed into the sanc
tuary behind Beulah.
Beth fought the panic his words created. "Likely
the storm slowed the others."