We went to Oxford and found the place-an obscure little church in a side-street, very gloomy and damp-looking. It turned out that the bride (who, mercifully, has no living relations) was being married from a Women’s College, of all places. I was relieved to see Peter in proper morning dress; I really had begun to think he meant to get married in a cap and gown. Jerry was there as best man, and my mother-in-law arrived in great state, beaming away as though they had all done something clever. And they had raked out old Uncle Paul Delagardie, creaking with arthritis, poor old p creature, with a gardenia in his buttonhole and trying to look sprightly, which at his age is disgusting.
There were all kinds of queer people in the church-practically none of our own friends, but that ridiculous old Climpson woman, some hangers-on that Peter had picked up in the course of his ‘cases’, and several policemen. Charles and Mary appeared at the last moment, and Charles pointed out to me a man in a Salvation Army uniform, who he said was a retired burglar; but I can scarcely believe this, even of Peter. The bride came attended by the most incredible assortment of bridesmaids-all female dons!-and an odd, dark woman to give her away, who was supposed to be the Head of the College. I am thankful to say, considering her past history, that Harriet (as I suppose I must now call her) had enough sense of propriety not to get herself up in white satin and orange-blossom; but I could not help thinking that a plain costume would have been more suitable than cloth of gold. I can see that I shall have to speak to her presently about her clothes, but I am afraid she will be difficult. I have never seen anybody look so indecently triumphant-I suppose, in a way, she had a right to; one must admit that she has played her cards very cleverly. Peter was as white as a sheet; I thought he was going to be sick. Probably he was realising what he had let himself in for. Nobody can say that I did not do my best to open his eyes. They were married in the old, coarse Prayer-book form, and the bride said ‘Obey’-I take this to be their idea of humour, for she looks as obstinate as a mule.
There was a great deal of promiscuous kissing in the vestry, and then all the oddities were bundled into cars (at Peter’s expense, no doubt) and we started back to Town, closely pursued by the local newspaper men. We went to my mother-in-law’s little house-all of us, including the policemen and the ex-burglar-and after a wedding-breakfast (which I must admit was very good) Uncle Delagardie made a speech, garnished with flowers of French eloquence. There were a lot of presents, some of them very absurd; the ex-burglar’s was a thick book of ranting and vulgar hymns!
Presently the bride and bridegroom vanished, and we waited a long time for them, till my mother-in-law came down, all smiles, to announce that they had been gone half an hour, leaving no address. At this moment, I have no idea where they are, nor has anybody. The whole business has left us in a most painful and ridiculous position. I consider it a disgraceful ending to a most disastrous affair, and it is no consolation to think that I shall have to produce this appalling young woman as my sister-in-law. Mary’s policeman was bad enough, but at any rate, quiet and well behaved; whereas, with Peter’s wife, we may look for notoriety, if not for open scandal, from one day to another. However, we must put as good a face on it as we can; I wouldn’t say as much as I have said to anybody but you. With all gratitude for your sympathy,
Yours affectionately,
Helen.
Dear Mother,
I write from an ‘unknown destination’ in the country hoping this finds you as it leaves me. Owing to a small domestic catastrophe, I have only a candle to see by, so trust you will excuse my bad writing. Well, Mother, we were happily married this morning, and a very pretty wedding it was. I only wish you could have been present at his lordship’s kind invitation, but as I said to him, at eighty-seven some physical infirmities are only to be, expected. I hope your leg is better.
As I told you in my last, we were all set to escape Her Grace’s interfering ways, and so we did, everything going off like clockwork. Her new ladyship, Miss Vane that was, went down to Oxford the day before, and his lordship with Lord Saint-George and myself followed in the evening, staying at the Mitre. His lordship spoke very kindly to me indeed, alluding to my twenty years’ service, and trusting that I should find myself comfortable in the new household. I told him I hoped I knew when I was well suited, and would endeavour to give satisfaction. I am afraid I said more than was my place, for his lordship was sincerely affected and told me not to be a bloody fool. I took the liberty to prescribe a dose of bromide and got him to sleep at last, when I could persuade his young lordship to leave him alone. Considerate is not the term I would employ of Lord Saint George, but some of his teasing must be put down to the champagne. His lordship appeared calm and resolute in the morning, which was a great relief to my mind, there being a good deal to do. A number of humble friends arriving by special transport, it was my task to see that they were made comfortable and not permitted to lose themselves.
Well, dear Mother, we partook of a light and early lunch, and then I had to get their lordships dressed and down to the church. My own gentleman was as quiet as a lamb and gave no trouble, not even his usual joking, but Lord St G. was in tearing high spirits and I had my hands full with him. He pretended five times that he had lost the ring, and just as we were setting out he mislaid it in earnest; but his lordship, with his customary detective ability, discovered it for him and took charge of it personally. In spite of this misadventure, I had them at the chancel steps dead on time, and I will say they both did me credit. I do not know where you would beat his young lordship for handsome looks, though to my mind there is no comparison which is the finer gentleman. The lady did not keep us waiting, I am thankful to say, and very well she looked, all in gold, with a beautiful bouquet of chrysanthemums. She is not pretty, but what you would call striking-looking, and I am sure she had no eyes for anyone but his lordship. She was attended by four ladies from the College, not dressed as bridesmaids, but all neat and ladylike in appearance. His lordship was very serious all through the ceremony.
Then we all went back to a reception at Her Grace the Dowager’s Town house. I was very pleased with her new ladyship’s behaviour towards the guests, which was frank and friendly to all stations, but, of course, his lordship would not choose any but a lady in all respects. I do not anticipate any trouble with her.
After the reception, we got the bride and bridegroom quietly away by the back door, having incarcerated all the newspaper reporters in the little drawing-room.
And now, dear Mother, I must tell you…