‘Please say yes before my kneecap cracks on this gravel,’ he joked, grinning boyishly. ‘Darling, please?’ he repeated.
Olivia searched her soul, but realised it was pointless to find reasons not to. She loved him. And there was simply no other reason that mattered.
‘Yes, Harry,’ she said, ‘I’ll marry you.’
He stood up, took her into his arms and pulled her to him. Then he kissed her again. ‘Oh, my darling, I’m so very happy. Come on, let’s go inside and find my mother. I can’t wait to tell her.’
It was only later that evening – after she had climbed into bed, exhausted from the extraordinary turn of events, and the celebrations over champagne that had ensued with Adrienne – that Olivia realised Harry had not once said he loved her.
20
The wedding of the Honourable Harry Crawford to Miss Olivia Drew-Norris was set for early December. Harry was away with his battalion, who had been charged with securing the vulnerable beaches around the Norfolk coast, building lookout posts, barbed-wire barricades and laying mines. This would take him through until at least January, before new orders were issued as to their battalion’s future whereabouts. Other battalions had already been mobilised overseas, so Harry and everyone at Wharton Park, many of whom had relatives in the 5th Royal Norfolks, were thanking their lucky stars at the stay of execution.
Adrienne had suggested that Olivia wait until after the wedding to sign up for the Wrens. ‘There will be plenty of time afterwards
ma chérie
, but not for now. You are to be a bride and the future Lady Crawford! You must relish the preparation with me.’
The forthcoming nuptials had prevented any dramatic spiral downward in Adrienne, as the festivities had given her something to focus on. She was determined, even as the news from overseas became more serious with each passing day, to celebrate as best she could.
For her part, Olivia felt a little as though she had gone back to the beginning of the Season; her life seemed to be another round of dressmakers – a trip to London with Adrienne had secured her a couture dress by Norman Hartnell himself. And there were guest lists to compose for both the engagement party and the wedding, and the invitations to be sent out. A Society wedding such as this was usually a year in the planning but, between them, Olivia and Adrienne had most things under control.
Olivia’s parents were, of course, over the moon. They had come to Wharton Park to celebrate for the weekend. Both her father and Christopher had made after-dinner speeches, declaring their approval and happiness for the young couple.
Olivia felt rather sorry for her mother who, yet again, seemed to have had her nose pushed out on organising arrangements for her daughter. She had taken it with her usual good grace, commenting to Olivia that Lord and Lady Crawford were paying for the entire event, which was a jolly good job, as Daddy’s Army pension wouldn’t have run to the bridesmaids’ dresses, let alone anything else.
The night before the wedding, a dinner was thrown at the house for friends and close relations of both families. Venetia had arrived with a group of Olivia’s other friends from London. She sat on Olivia’s bed as the bride-to-be put her make-up on at her dressing table.
‘I can’t help feeling rather miffed that you’ve let me down, Olivia, darling. I thought we made a “no-marriage” pact, and here you are, waltzing up the aisle a few months later! Are you completely sure Harry is the “one”?’
‘I absolutely adore him, and Wharton Park,’ said Olivia staunchly.
‘You do realise you’ll be chained to this house for the rest of your life, don’t you? And jolly well have to produce an heir, and at least one spare?’
‘I like children,’ Olivia protested. ‘I want them.’
‘And are you absolutely sure that Harry loves you?’
‘Of course he does,’ Olivia said abruptly, Venetia’s comment touching a raw nerve. ‘Why on earth would he be marrying me if he didn’t?’
After the dinner, Olivia walked along the landing towards her bedroom, exhausted. She jumped as a pair of hands caught her waist from behind. ‘Hello, my darling girl, how are you feeling?’ Harry nuzzled into her neck. Olivia could smell drink on his breath.
‘I’m a little nervous,’ she admitted. ‘You?’
‘I think I’ll be glad now when it’s all over, and we can get on with being Mr and Mrs Crawford. Won’t you?’
‘Yes.’
He kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘Enjoy your last night of freedom, darling. I’ll see you in church tomorrow.’
A few minutes later, as Olivia climbed into bed, her stomach butterflies un-netted themselves and circulated around her body. It wasn’t the wedding ceremony that she was nervous about – it was this time tomorrow night, when she and Harry would enter the large master suite overlooking the park, and the door would close behind them.
She knew, of course, what to expect – Venetia had delighted in enlightening her as to the physical scenario. But, try as she might, she found it difficult to imagine that degree of intimacy with Harry. She’d no idea if he was as innocent as she was; she rather hoped he wasn’t, and then at least one of them would know what they were doing. She comforted herself with the fact that it was a rite of passage, which all married women had been through. And also, Olivia thought as she drifted off, the only way in which babies could be brought into the world.
*
The following morning dawned bright and crisp.
Elsie arrived in Olivia’s bedroom with a breakfast tray at eight o’clock. She was brimming over with excitement.
‘Now, there’s no rush, Miss, I’ve got everything under control. See –’ she indicated a piece of paper – ‘I’ve written us out a timetable for the morning, so we’ll both know what we’re doing.’
Olivia felt comforted by Elsie’s calm presence. ‘You are a wonder, you really are. Thank you,’ she said as Elsie placed the tray across her knees.
‘Ooh, I can’t wait to see you in that dress,’ Elsie said as she indicated the exquisite oyster satin creation placed on a dummy in the corner of Olivia’s bedroom. ‘Her Ladyship says she’ll be up to see you after breakfast. Then I’ll run you a bath and we’ll sort out your hair.’
At nine o’clock, there was a tap at Olivia’s door.
‘Come in.’
Adrienne appeared, holding a large leather box. She came over to kiss Olivia on both cheeks. ‘
Chérie
, truly, this is the happiest day of my life. Seeing my son marry a woman whom I love like my own daughter … what more could a mother want? Come here and let me show you what I have for you.’
Adrienne walked over to the stool, sat down and patted the space next to her for Olivia to sit too. She opened the box to reveal an exquisite diamond necklace and a matching pair of large teardrop earrings.
‘These are for you, Olivia, to wear today. Every Crawford bride has worn them for the past two hundred years. You will keep them, then hand them on to your son’s bride on the day that he marries.’
‘They are beautiful,’ breathed Olivia. ‘Thank you, Adrienne.’
‘Do not thank me,
chérie
,’ she said as she stood up. ‘I ask for nothing more than that we remain the dear friends we already are. Now, I must go and oversee the arrangements, and I look forward to welcoming you formally into our family later today.’
At eleven thirty, Olivia was dressed and ready. Elsie stared at her with a look of awe.
‘Oh, Miss Olivia, you do look that beautiful, I think
I
could marry you,’ she giggled as she handed Olivia the long, white satin gloves.
‘Thank you. I am so dreadfully nervous.’ Olivia opened her arms to Elsie. ‘Come and give me a jolly big hug. I think I need one.’
‘Of course, miss.’ Tentatively, so as not to spoil Olivia’s dress, Elsie put her arms round her mistress.
‘Thank you for looking after me so beautifully over these past few weeks,’ said Olivia. ‘I’ve asked Adrienne if this could be a permanent arrangement in the future.’
‘You mean, I’m to be your lady’s maid? Forever, like?’ Elsie’s eyes were wide with wonder.
‘Yes. Who else could do better? As long as you are happy with the idea, too. There’ll be a few extra shillings for you as well.’
‘Oh, miss, I’d love it! Thank you so much,’ said Elsie, her voice breaking. ‘Now, you’d better be getting yourself downstairs; they’re waiting for you.’
‘Yes.’ Olivia took a few seconds to compose herself. ‘Wish me luck, Elsie.’
Elsie watched as Olivia walked towards the door. ‘Good luck, miss,’ she breathed as Olivia left the room.
Whenever Olivia looked back on her wedding day, she struggled to remember much of it. She could see Harry in her mind’s eye, resplendent in full military uniform, standing waiting for her at the front of the church. And the Guard of Honour his battalion had arranged, as they walked from the church a newly married couple. At the reception, which took place in the ballroom, Olivia could remember a sea of faces, some of which she knew from London and many she had never seen before. She had no memory of what she’d eaten – probably very little, given her corset – or much about the speeches.
She remembered the first dance with Harry, as everyone clapped, then partnering Lord Crawford, her father, Angus and Archie.
At ten o’clock, the guests gathered in the hall to wave the happy couple upstairs to bed. Due to Harry’s immediate return to his battalion, plans for a honeymoon had been shelved. Harry took Olivia’s arm and kissed her on the cheek as she threw her bouquet from the top of the stairs. Everyone cheered when Adrienne’s five-year-old niece caught it.
‘All right, darling?’ Harry asked as he led her along the corridor in the opposite direction from her old bedroom.
‘I think so, yes,’ she answered nervously.
He opened the door to their new quarters and they walked inside.
He shut the door behind them and threw himself on to the large bed, where the sheets were already pulled back.
‘Well, I don’t know about you,’ he said as he rested his hands behind his head, ‘but I don’t fancy going through that ever again. I’m absolutely bushed!’
Olivia was exhausted too, but felt uncomfortable about joining him on the bed. In the end, she sank into a chair by the newly lit fire.
He surveyed her from his elevated position. ‘Do you need Elsie’s help to get all that stuff off? I don’t know whether I’m much of an expert.’
‘Perhaps you could learn,’ she suggested timidly, unnerved by the utilitarian approach he was taking to this moment.
He sprung off the bed and came to her. ‘Stand up and let’s have a look then,’ he commanded.
She did so, and turned her back to him so he could survey the seed-pearl buttons that had taken Elsie twenty minutes to fasten that morning.
He shook his head. ‘Beats me, I’m afraid. Tell you what, darling, I’ll go and find Elsie, and then come back when she’s finished releasing you.’ He smiled at her, then promptly left the room.
Olivia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his insensitivity. A few minutes later, Elsie was at the door.
‘Master Harry said you needed my help and I’m not surprised. Those buttons are a nightmare for the nimblest of fingers.’
Elsie began unbuttoning the dress as Olivia stood silently.
‘You all right, miss?’ she asked. ‘You’re very quiet.’
‘I … oh, Elsie …’ To her embarrassment, tears began to flow down her cheeks.
‘Oh, miss, don’t you be crying now, please. You’re just tired, that’s all, and emotional. I cried on my wedding night too, if you must know.’ Elsie reached for a handkerchief in her pocket and handed it to Olivia. ‘Don’t you be spoiling your pretty face for Master Harry with them tears. I’ll be as quick as I can, and then you’ll be back in his arms.’
‘Thank you, Elsie, you’re probably right,’ agreed Olivia, blowing her nose. ‘I’m just being silly.’
‘We’re all nervous on our wedding night, miss,’ Elsie said, as she undid the last button and Olivia stepped out of the dress. ‘But Master Harry will look after you, I know he will,’ she added as she handed Olivia her nightgown. ‘There now, you climb into that and I’ll take the dress and hang it in your old room. And I’ll tell Master Harry that you’re ready for him on my way down. All right, miss?’
‘Yes,’ Olivia nodded. ‘Thank you, Elsie.’
Elsie picked up the wedding dress, put it over her arm and walked towards the door. She opened it, then, as an afterthought, turned back and smiled shyly. ‘And I promise you, it’s not as bad as you think it’s going to be. See you tomorrow, Miss Olivia, goodnight.’
Calmer now, Olivia sat back down in the chair, waiting for Harry to reappear. Ten minutes later, yawning, she decided to climb into bed, wondering where he could have got to. The tension of waiting was killing her, but she could hardly leave the room and search for him. Surely he must be on his way?
Half an hour later, there was still no sign of him. The exhaustion of the day catching up with her, Olivia closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Sometime during the night, she heard a door open and felt a bend of the mattress as Harry climbed in next to her. She waited in an agony of suspense to see if he would lean over and touch her. He did not. A few minutes later, she heard him snoring gently.