Bad Brides (55 page)

‘Hey!’ Dom answered. ‘What’s up? Bride emergency?’

‘No, not at all,’ Brianna Jade said. ‘I was just—’

‘Oh, great!’ he said jocosely. ‘I wasn’t looking forward to having to tell old Ed everything was off at the last minute.’

Brianna Jade frowned. ‘Dom, just focus, will you? I wanted to ask you something.’

‘Need a last-minute shag before married life begins?’ He guffawed. ‘No probs, babe, I’ll be right up.’

‘No, my hairstylist needs sucking off,’ Brianna Jade said curtly; she wasn’t going to put up with that. ‘Can you get up here and do that for him?’

It was the male stylist’s turn to guffaw, and to do him credit, Dom did too.

‘God, it’s been a while since school!’ he said cheerfully. ‘Still, I’m sure it’s like riding a bike, you never forget how. Right, what can I do you
for?’

‘You know that night you put a fish in Edmund’s bed and he made you crash in his room?’ she asked.

‘Ugh, the pong! Don’t remind me! I can’t believe the bastard made me sleep in there. I hurled my bloody guts out.’

‘Was there someone you were going to hook up with that evening?’ Brianna Jade asked, ruthlessly ploughing forward.

There was a pause.

‘Look, you’ve got me on speakerphone, right?’ Dom said. ‘You might want to take me off it, if you’re asking what I rather think you’re asking.’

Baffled, Brianna Jade gestured to the stylists to back away and clicked the speaker off, mentally running through the list of women guests at the party as she did so. Milly was so tiny there was
no way Edmund could have mistaken her for Brianna Jade, not for a moment. What about Princess Sophie? She was almost Brianna Jade’s height, though thinner –

That’s it! Edmund had sex with Princess Sophie!
Weirdly excited to have figured it all out, Brianna Jade wiggled the phone under a remaining curler and said: ‘Okay, shoot.
No one else can hear.’

‘Sweet girl, it was your
mother
I was after!’ Dom said. ‘That’s why you’re asking, I imagine? Is this a very roundabout way of warning me off? Because if
so, I think that’s awfully unfair. She’s an absolute stunner and doesn’t look her age at all. I mean, she isn’t that much older than me anyway, is she? Why shouldn’t
she have some fun?’

Brianna Jade’s jaw dropped so far that her entire mouth sagged open.

‘We had a hot rendezvous going, but I’m afraid I rather blew it by getting totally plastered,’ Dominic continued, ‘and she’s been giving me the cold shoulder ever
since. Any chance you could put in a word for me?’ His voice brightened. ‘Wait, is that why you’re ringing me? Did she mention me at all? Were you trying to get the lay of the
land?’

He chuckled. ‘I say, that’s very good! Lay of the land! Look, I damn well will be if she just gives me a chance – tell her that, will you?’

But he never got an answer to his question, because Brianna Jade had hung up.

‘Okay to keep going? We’re on a deadline, you know,’ the stylist said, bustling back.

If Brianna Jade had been sightless before, now it was as if she had laser vision. She stared at her beautiful reflection as the hairstylists finished their work, sculpting the thick, silky rolls
produced by the curlers into smooth waves that were as elegant and as emphatically non-pageant in style as Tamra had specified. She wanted to be absolutely sure that no one could point to Brianna
Jade on her wedding day and see any connection between her and a Miss America contestant.

The bride rose, the hairstylists fluttering around her with extra mirrors, showing her every angle conceivable of the sleek, fashionable updo they had spent over an hour creating. Trailing a
halo of Elnett hairspray, she moved through into her bedroom, where Massimo Panuccio himself of Sartoria Massimo was waiting with her bridal dress on a padded hanger. The smile of triumph on his
handsome Italian face deepened as, carefully, he unzipped the dress and held it for Brianna Jade. She took off her dressing gown, and, in her smoothing slip, bra and stockings, stepped into the
silk and lace creation. Massimo zipped her up, stood back, sighed with happiness: the make-up artist and the hairstylists all made noises of appreciation and wonder. Massimo’s assistant was
removing the custom-made white silk shoes from their box, and kneeling down in front of Brianna Jade, holding them out for her to slip her feet into, lifting the folds of the dress so that the
delicate lace wouldn’t catch on the kitten heels.

On her earlobes were fastened the antique diamond and pearl earrings that had been in the Respers family for generations; around her long neck, the matching necklace. The jewellery was not as
large as Tamra would have liked, but its Respers family heritage made it an impeccable choice, and Massimo had designed the dress with photographs of Brianna Jade wearing the earrings and necklace
to ensure that they would work perfectly together.

‘Honey!’

Tamra swept in, so stunning in her dark rose dress that everyone who had been marvelling at Brianna Jade, the most beautiful bride that could possibly be imagined, turned to look at her mother
and goggled in equal appreciation. The huge silk flower on Tamra’s right shoulder would have overwhelmed a woman with less height and poise, but on Tamra it was magnificent, her blonde hair
fabulously twisted into an asymmetric arrangement that balanced out the flower, her eyes huge and dark, her mouth boldly coloured a bright fuchsia that only she could have carried off.

‘Oh my
God
,’ she sighed in bliss on seeing her daughter. ‘Oh my
God
. Massimo, honey, if I weren’t all dressed up already I’d get down on the
ground and kiss your feet. She’s going to be on the cover, you know! This is the
Style
Bride of the Year you’re looking at. My little girl! Oh Jesus, I am
not
going to
cry, I’m
not.
’

She was holding a jewellery box which she handed to Brianna Jade.

‘It’s mine,’ she said. ‘So I’m lending it to you for today, get it?’

One dark eye closed in a wink, the ridiculously thick lashes fluttering down to her perfect cheek and up again.

‘After today, I
might
just let you keep it, if you ask me nicely,’ Tamra went on, smiling naughtily. ‘See what I’m doing here?’

Brianna Jade opened the box and gasped: it was a sapphire and diamond hair clip whose simple, formal lines echoed the design of the Respers jewels she was wearing.

‘But Daniel just did my hair,’ she said, even as Daniel, smiling conspiratorially, came forward to take the box from her.

‘Tamra and I’ve been planning this as a surprise for you,’ he said. ‘I did your updo so the clip would fit just under the chignon.’

Expertly, he fitted the sapphire and diamond clip exactly where it was meant to go and stood back with a smug expression on his face.

‘Oh, that’s perfect!’ Tamra exclaimed, as the
Style
crew, who had entered with her, busied themselves in a whole series of candid shots of Brianna Jade being shown her
hair clip, the final touch that was both borrowed and blue, in the bathroom mirror, Daniel holding up a hand mirror for her, Massimo standing back, admiring with great complacency the way his dress
flowed around Brianna Jade’s perfect figure. The little bridesmaids, looking adorable in their white dresses, were brought in by their proud parents; more photographs were taken of them,
mostly goggling in dumbstruck awe at how beautiful the bride was.

A procession formed: Tamra at the head, then the little girls, then Brianna Jade. Slowly they made their way out of the room, down the corridor and to the head of the majestic staircase, whose
banisters were wrapped in white ribbon and adorned with roses. The guests had all been shepherded into the chapel by this time, the groom and best man waiting there for the
Style Bride
team to ensure they had all the photos and video they needed of the bride’s party first posing at the top of the stairs, then descending slowly, Brianna Jade’s weighted train spreading
out wonderfully. Massimo, seeing it in motion, sighed in bliss at how successfully the white silk layered over the lace, at the wonderful effect it made against the dark polished wood and deep plum
of the carpet.

Brianna Jade felt as if she were in a boat on a river being inexorably swept along. Everyone in it with her was confident, sure of the way, and she was the only one aware that around the next
bend was not the open sea, as they all thought, but a drop to a cascading waterfall that would upset the whole craft. She wanted to tell them to stop, that they needed to row the boat to the shore:
but the river was too strong, and her years of pageant training, where you smiled and smiled and walked up and down steps and over stages and hit your mark and stopped and smiled some more, making
sure that you were posed at exactly the right angle and that your dress was perfectly arranged, made it impossible for her to break through the sheer waves of expectation that surrounded her.

The florist handed her and Tamra their bouquets, and she smiled as she took hers, smiled as the river carried her along the hallway, down the side wing of Stanclere Hall to the chapel at its far
end, pausing so the little bridesmaids could make sure they were holding Brianna Jade’s train exactly right. Tamra waited in the doorway of the chapel until she got the whispered confirmation
that the bride was ready and the signal was given to the organist to begin.

The music was an arrangement of Mendelssohn’s ‘Wedding March’, very traditional, but that was what Tamra wanted for her daughter. The first chords were sounded, the familiar
melody began, and Tamra set back her shoulders and started the slow walk down the aisle, her fuchsia lips curved into a proud smile.

The Stanclere Hall chapel was unusually large, having been built for the farm workers to attend Sunday services as well as the household staff, so there was room for about fifty guests plus
selected staff members – like Mrs Hurley – who had been with the Respers for so long that they had as much right to be present at the Earl’s wedding as family members. More, in
fact, considering that the Respers family had many branches, not all of which had been invited. There would be a much larger party thrown after the ceremony, a dinner for three hundred with dancing
afterwards, but it was tradition for the Earls to be married here, in this chapel with its marble pillars and carved marble altar over which was draped the linen altarcloth embroidered in gold
thread by the ninth Countess. On it was set the two gilt candlesticks and statues of angels which had stood there since the eighteenth century.

Lozenges of blue and red and green and yellow fell across the altarcloth from the stained-glass windows set into the curved apse at the back of the chapel, sumptuous arrangements of roses
clustered at their base. The vicar stood on the low marble step below the altar, smiling, a carved wooden lectern in front of her, and Edmund, in pristine morning dress, blinked hard at the sight
of Tamra approaching, a glorious beauty in her dark rose dress, the exquisite silk flower at her shoulder no competition for Tamra’s glowing face under her red-gold hair, her vivid dark eyes
and perfect bone structure.

Murmurs of appreciation trailed her approach, which yielded to sighs of pure wonder as Brianna Jade stepped forward and the congregation realized that, no matter how many weddings they attended,
they would never again see a bride this perfect. Tamra, nodding at Edmund as she gave her bouquet to Lady Margaret in the front pew and waited to take her daughter’s, was so riven with
conflicting feelings that she could only be grateful to the ritual of the wedding ceremony that laid down for her exactly what to do. On Edmund’s face, as he took in Brianna Jade in all her
white silk and lace glory, diamonds glinting in her ears and around her neck, was an almost rueful smile of pure appreciation. He shook his head briefly, as if he were amazed that this vision of
beauty was actually about to marry him.

Brianna Jade reached the altar, swivelling to hand her bouquet to her mother, and her lips parted, about to say something: but straight away Edmund stepped forward, taking his bride’s
hand, turning her back to face the vicar. The organ music faded away, the vicar began to speak.

‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company of witnesses to join together this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony; which is an
honourable estate, instituted of God . . .’

Edmund’s hand was warm in Brianna Jade’s, his face gentle as he looked down at her. The vicar’s voice was mellow and quietly confident as she spoke about mystical unions
between Christ and His Church, miracles in Cana and St Paul.

‘. . . therefore, not entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, soberly and in the fear of God. Into this Holy Estate these two persons present come now to be joined
. . .’

Reverently, discreetly, soberly: those words all sounded like instructions to Brianna Jade to be quiet, not to say anything, to let the river keep carrying her along. But there was a waterfall
coming, she could see the spume rising from the rocks over which the cascades were starting to tumble, the splashing, the rough edges of the stone—

‘If any man can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him speak now or forever hold his peace,’ the vicar said, and paused to look over the
congregation.

The
Style
photographer, in one corner of the chapel, and the videographer, in the other, where they had excellent views of both the congregation and the bride and groom, panned around
to catch the smiles of mutual amusement exchanged between the guests. They had all been to numerous weddings, heard this admonition numerous times, and they enjoyed both the frisson that came with
the words and then the silence that greeted them, prompting the vicar to continue with the wedding vows.

No one had ever actually heard an interruption. That only happened in Richard Curtis films, and the whole point of Richard Curtis films was that they were as unlike real life as they possibly
could be, which was why they were so enjoyable. Sophie, sitting next to Minty, even allowed herself a rather unprincessly wink at her friend which said that, of all the marriages they’d
attended, this one, arranged for mutual benefit, was the least likely of all to have anyone object to it.