The Youngest Bridesmaid (6 page)

“
Now listen carefully,
Lou...
”
Cousin Blanche said,
it seemed for the hundredth time. So many instructions, so many admonitions; so much to remember, so much to forget, such little time left to remain oneself. Already she seemed to have taken on another personality, wearing Melissa
’
s wedding dress, going away with Melissa
’
s trousseau, and Melissa herself—where was she? Had she found happiness with the man she loved? Had she no regrets for the brilliant future she had thrown away? No one, thought Lou in the last numbed stages of exhaustion, had given a thought to Melissa. From her mother
’
s point of view she
,
had acted out of character and ruined a flawless scheme, and what happened to her now could scarcely concern anyone but herself.

“
Poor Melissa
...
”
Lou murmured as at long last she crept thankfully into her bed, already half asleep.
“
I hope she
’
s happy ... I hope she
’
ll never know what she
’
s
missed.
”
But she was not thinking of the ease and luxury of the future as she fell asleep mourning a little for her cousin, but of that autocratic stranger with whom, had she wanted, Melissa could have found so much ...

III

At last it was over. Lou, treated for the first time in her life to the attention and consideration shown to someone of first importance, submitted docilely to all that was planned for
her, and felt very little.
It was not she, she thought, when she thought at all, who had suddenly be
c
ome the hub of a fashionable occasion, but a dream
self-moving
obediently through a day of make
-
believe. She had been stand-in for a bridesmaid, now she was stand-in for the bride, and none of it was real. She was aware of the crowds waiting at the church and the excited murmurs of astonishment and speculation as she began the long walk up the aisle. She had rehearsed this walk so often, following in the wake of her cousin, that she had the timing to the minute. She hardly knew the
man who was to give her away, an uncle or cousin hoping, no doubt, for a share in the family
’
s good fortune, but she could feel the ner
v
ous tension in the arm her fingers rested on, and knew with mild astonishment that he, and probably Cousin Blanche too, would be on tenterhooks until the ceremony was safely over.

The voices of the choir rose and fell in some unfamiliar anthem, the blur of faces on either side were unfamiliar, too, as was the subtle drag and pull of Melissa
’
s miraculous wedding dress trailing behind her, and suddenly Lou was grateful for her shoes. Melissa
’
s hand-made models of perfection had not fitted, and Lou had been obliged to wear her own well-worn and rather tarnished slippers. They were, she thought, a salutary reminder that underneath all the borrowed glory she was still little Lou Parsons, a girl who just for a day was deputising for another
,
and who would in the end, like the Cinderella of
story, hear the chimes of midnight strike, turning
the
pomp and glitter back into pumpkins and white mice.

What absurd things one thinks of, she reflected, aware with surprise that the long procession up the aisle was nearly over, that the choir had stopped singing, and the dark stranger waiting at
that altar rails
had turned to meet her. For a moment reality
pierced through the dream and she
stopped dead.
What, she wondered wildly, was she doing here?

How had she allowed herself to become persuaded
i
nto such a farce? Then Piers smiled, that slightly twisted smile with its redeeming touch of tenderness, and she moved forward to stand beside him, aware as
she did so of the audible gasp of relief uttered by the man who was to give her away.

From then on she was back again in the dream. She listened to Piers making his responses firmly and clearly, and her own were no less clear; only when the ring was put on her finger did she falter, for it was too big and had plainly been meant for Melissa
.
Piers
’
smile was wryly amused as he slipped it on, and she wondered if already he was regretting that outrageous gesture to save his own pride. Only then
did she fully realize what she had done; for better or worse, she was married to a man she scarcely knew, a man who had said so arrogantly:
“
I refuse to be made the subject of ridicule ... so find me another bride.
”
She, the unlikely puppet of his choosing, had allowed herself to be persuaded into madness, but not on account of her cousins
’
s pleadings, but because he himself, waiting so unexpectedly for her answer, had with that strange flash of tenderness swept away her defences.

They
were in the vestry now to sign the register, and for the last time Lou wrote her name, Louise Mary Parsons, and said goodbye to that other self. Cousin Blanche kissed her as did several strangers; the bridegroom had not appeared to think it necessary, an omission which had already been avidly
n
oted by some of the ladies present; then she was walking down the aisle on Piers
’
arm, conscious now of the craning necks and muted buzz of talk on either side. They came out into the daylight to a battery of cameras and reporters excitedly demanding a story, and Lou stood listening to the peal of bells, aware that yesterday
’
s rain had begun again, that strange faces gazed at her form under a sea of umbrellas and wet gleamed on the cape of a mounted policeman clearing a way for them through the
crowd. She had seen it all so many times on television newsreels, the wedding of the week, the wedding of the year, wondering what it felt like to be the bride, and now she played that role herself
an
d felt nothing. Careful hands were lifting the yards of velvet after her into the car, and she saw with a sense of guilt that the hem was already splashed with mud; she clasped her hands nervously in her lap, the cuffs of white mink soft against her wrists, and as the car moved slowly away, Piers
’
hand closed over hers with sudden warmth.

“
You came through that very nicely—very nicely indeed,
”
he said.
“
Were you nervous?
”

“
No,
”
she replied in all honesty.
“
You see I didn
’
t believe in any of it. It was just make
-
believe.
”

One eyebrow shot up, giving his face a momentary look of distortion.

“
Then you
’
ll have to come down to earth, won
’
t you? I can assure you I have no plans for a make-believe marriage,
”
he said, and whether it was intended as a threat or a warning, the remark embarrassed her.

“
I didn
’
t
mean...
”
she began tentatively.
“
I—I realize that ... I mean, I
’
m trying to say ...
”

“
Well, what are you trying to say?
”

“
You don
’
t make it very easy.
”

“
You
’
ll find, I
’
m afraid, my dear Lou, that I won
’
t often make things easy for you. I
’
m not an easy person, so I
’
m told.
”

“
I think you probably rather pride yourself on that,
”
she replied unexpectedly.
“
When a person
’
s spoilt and run after it doesn
’
t become necessary to consider other people.
”

“
Good grief, who
’
d have expected a set-down only a quarter of an hour after marriage!
”
he exclaimed with humor.
“
Do you think I
’
m spoilt?
”

“
I don
’
t know you,
”
she said, and as the car braked suddenly and skidded a little on the wet road, she found herself flung against his shoulder. He put an arm round her to steady her, at the same time brushing his lips against her cheek.

“
You
’
ve sidetracked the original subject quite neatly, haven
’
t you? I thought you were endeavouring to make it plain that you were fully prepared to accept the—er—more intimate responsibilities of ma
r
riage,
”
he said, and when she did not immediately answer he gave a wry little smile.
“
You hadn
’
t thought of that side, had you?
”
he added quite gently.

No, she hadn
’
t thought. There had been no time since yesterday to reflect on more sober things in a world which had suddenly gone crazy.

“
I don
’
t suppose you
’
ll find me up to your usual standards, but I can learn,
”
she said, trying to sound both obliging and dignified, but fearing, when he laughed, that she had only succeeded in appearing absurd.

“
And what do you suppose are my usual standards, as you so delicately put it?
”
he asked.

“
Well, you like your women sophisticated—experienced—so they say.
”

“
Do I? Then you
’
ll make a wholesome change, won
’
t you; Lou? Ah, here we are. Better brace yourself for this reception, my poor child; there are going to be a lot of awkward questions asked.
”

There was, indeed, a great deal of polite and not so polite curiosity in the air, but as Lou knew scarcely any of the guests it was not too difficult to evade the more blatant remarks. Cousin Blanche, who herself was very skilled at dealing with impertinences, had obviously cooked up some sort of explanation to quell, if not silence, the gossipers, but the bridesmaids, as Piers had pointed out yesterday, could not be muzzled for ever, and would doubtless dine out on the true story for weeks to come.

The cake was cut, toasts were drunk, and somebody made a speech which, possibly by reason of the last-minute switch-over
o
f brides, was not in the happiest vein. Piers replied with something of a bite and, very soon, Cousin Blanche was bustling Lou upstairs to change. It was high time, Blanche thought, to bring these proceedings to an end, before more embarrassing questions were put; only just now someone had asked where the honeymoon was to be spent, and that dazed-looking child had replied that she didn
’
t know.

“
Really, Lou!
”
Cousin Blanche said, as she shepherded the bride up the stairs.
“
You knew Melissa
’
s plans perfectly well. Paris, Rome, Vienna, a short luxury tour of the great capitals of Europe.
I
’
m
beginning to think, though, it will all be wasted on you.
”

Lou thought so, too. Melissa she could well picture in the honeymoon suites of expensive hotels, dancing the night long, spending money, never allowing boredom to ruffle the seas
oned
dictates of her exacting bridegroom, and as she submitted to the experienced hands which stripped her of her wedding finery and dressed her again in one of the elegant
suits from Melissa
’
s trousseau, Lou experienced a moment
’
s terror at the prospect of her immediate future. How would she, who had never been out of England, know how to comport herself in foreign countries? How, above all, know in what way to meet the demands and expectations of a man who had already travelled the world over and could find nothing new?

She stood passively before a long mirror while the final touches were made, a tweak to the smart little hat, a spray of scent, Melissa
’
s fabulous mink coat slung carelessly about her shoulders, gloves and handbag put into her unresisting hands. Only her shoes were her own, and again she took comfort in the fact that there was still something left of herself, grateful at the same time that the shoes were reasonably new and did not disgrace the rest of her.

Somebody gave her the wedding bouquet and she looked at it blankly.
“
What am I to do with it?
”
she asked.

“
Throw it, of course,
”
the head fitter smiled, amused.

“
Throw it?
”

‘
To the bridesmaids. Whoever catches it will be the next—surely you know?
”

“
Oh, yes, I
’
d forgotten.
”
Lou surprised a brief flash of compassion, or it might only have been suppressed curiosity, in the woman
’
s worldly eyes, and remembered how she had seemed to side with Lou when fitting the bridesmaids
’
dresses, and indeed, in respectful but firm fashion, put Cousin Blanche in her place.

“
Thank you for all your help, and all your patienc
e
,
”
Lou said shyly.
“
You must think—
”

“
I
’
m not paid to think, mademoiselle—or rather,
I should say now, madame,
”
the fitter replied repressively, then she suddenly smiled.
“
Go now, for they are waiting, and—good luck.
”

Good luck
...
good luck
...
thought Lou as she walked to the head of the stairs. She would need all the luck in the world to meet the new life waiting for her, to make a success of a marriage so haphazardly
thrust upon her, to learn to love a bridegroom who had chosen her with such ill-considered impetuosity.

She dutifully flung her bouquet to the group of bridesmaids, but did not notice who caught it, then was aware of Piers at her elbow, pushing a way through the chattering throng. His long black sports convertible stood at the kerb, its hood up since it was still raining, and, a little bemused by the banter and embraces from perfect strangers pleasantly mellowed by champagne, she clambered into the car rather awkwardly and felt her stocking run as she did so.

They were away with the noisy burst of acceleration that such a car and such a driver demanded, and Lou remembered that Piers
’
driving had alarmed her.

“
Well?
”
he said, manoeuvring skilfully through the traffic.

“
I
’
ve laddered my stocking,
”
she replied with childish inconsequence, and after that they drove in silence, leaving the busy thoroughfares behind for the wet mazes of the suburbs, and the suburbs in turn for the first beginnings of country. Lou had no idea whether they were heading north, south, east or west; they seemed e
n
closed in a nameless small world unrelated to anything familiar, and the windscreen wipers began to have a hy
pn
otic effect on her.

“
Where a
r
e we going?
”
she asked at last, because someone must break the uncomfortable silence, but he answered her indirectly.

“
It wasn
’
t very quick of you to tell that gossiping old tabby that you didn
’
t know where your honeymoon was to be spent,
”
he observed, but she surprised hi
m
, as before, with an unexpected retort.

“
Very likely, but since no one had seen fit to acquaint me I could har
d
ly be expected to know,
”
she replied.

“
Yes, you have something there,
”
he said quite mildly, then braked so violently to avoid a woolgathering cyclist that she caught at and then held to the padded armrest between them.

“
Nervous?
”
he asked, sounding rather as if he would enjoy frightening her.

“
Yes,
”
she said, too honest to wish to impress him with false courage, and he immediately reduced their progress to a reasonable cruising speed and gently loosening the grip of her hand on the arm rest, returned it to her lap.

“
Relax,
”
he said.
“
Do you drive, Lou?
”

“
No.
”

“
One day I
’
ll teach you.
”

“
Not in this!
”

“
No, possibly not in this. A high-powered car, like a capricious woman, needs handling with understanding.
”

“
What a very trite remark,
”
observed Lou with surprise rather than with any wish to be pert, for she had not thought him obvious, and he brought the car to a sudden standstill by the side of the road with a squeal of tires on the wet tarmac.

“
For the youngest bridesmaid who, until now, has been kept firmly in the background, you have developed a rather disconcerting mind of your own, my dear,
”
he said, and she realized that he was angry.

She drew a little away from him, fingering the run in her stocking, aware that her expressions of opinion had possibly been only a form of whistling in the dark.

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
she said.
“
I didn
’
t mean to be rude. You just surprised me.
”

“
In what way?
”

“
Well—smart sayings like that.
I
shouldn
’
t have thought—
”

“
Upon my soul, you
’
ve got a nerve!
”
he interrupted, frowning down upon her.
“
Did you think I was trying to impress you?
”

“
N-not exactly. I—I don
’
t really know what to think any more. I still can
’
t believe any of it.
”

H
e caught the first suggestion of tears in her voice
,
and the irritable lines smoothed out in his face.

“
You poor little thing, you
’
re worn out, aren
’
t you?
”
he said.
“
We
’
ve asked a lot of you, Blanche
and I, but—will it help if I say I didn
’
t choose at random?
”

“
Didn
’
t you?
”
Her eyes were suspiciously bright and she sounded now as if she neither believed nor cared.
“
But you
’
ve hardly noticed me.
”

“
More than you think. For a start,
you
of all
those twittering young women didn
’
t chatter neither did you fidget, and those are two good assets in a wife.
”

She was conscious of fidgeting now, and instinctively sat on her hands. He was, she supposed, only trying to rally her with not very serious nonsense, but all the same, in implying that the choice had been his with little fear of refusal betrayed the fact that for him conquests had always been too easy.
“
Piers—
”
she began.

“
Well?
”

“
Nothing,
”
she retracted lamely. She was too tired and too muddled to put her intimate feelings into words, too confused, she realized now, even to know what they were.

“
Are you, by any chance, getting cold feet about our wedding night?
”
he asked,
t
he old ironical twist back in his voice.

“
No,
”
she said.
“
At least, that wasn
’
t what I was thinking of.
”

“
Weren
’
t you, indeed? Well, remember what I told you coming back from the church. My plans don
’
t include a make
-
believe marriage. I wasn
’
t I sure if you quite understood.
”

“
I understood perfectly,
”
she replied gravely.
“
You—you won
’
t find me ignorant. I
’
v
e
been taught the facts of life, you know.
”

For a moment s
h
e glimpsed that flash of tenderness in his smile.

“
I
’
m glad to hear it! I wouldn
’
t like you to find your Prince Charming had turned into an ogre—Cinderella,
”
he said, and turned on the ignition.

The powerful roar of the engine sounded rather
like an ogre
’
s threat to eat you up, Lou thought, won
dering
for the first time what sort of lover he would ma
k
e and whether he would be selfish or considerate, then the car leapt forward again. The late afternoon light had already deepened to twilight, and Lou ceased watching the speedometer needle reaching seventy, eighty, ninety and sank into an exhausted doze. She had forgotten to ask Piers again where they were going, if it wasn
’
t to Paris and Rome, and Vienna as didn
’
t seem likely, but it no longer mattered ...

She must have slept, for when she next opened her eyes it was quite dark. The rain, she thought, must have stopped, for the twin wipers were at rest; she imagined she saw the first stars pricking through the sky, but it might only have been the lights of some
distant village, or even the imaginings of her own desire for the breaking up of the darkness.