Sunny resisted the temptation to point out that her mother should have thought of that before accepting the proposal of a foreigner. "I'll miss you, too. You must visit us at Swindon soon."
Augusta shook her head. "Eventually, but not right away. I know that I'm a strong-minded woman, and I don't want to cause trouble between you and your husband. Marriage is a difficult business, and you and he must have time together with as little interference as possible."
At moments like this, Sunny loved her mother with painful intensity. It was true that Augusta was often domineering-yet her love for her children was very real. She was a woman of formidable energy; if she had a railroad or a bank to run, she might have been less absorbed in her daughter's life.
"I'll be fine," Sunny said with determined optimism. "Thornborough is a gentleman, and I am a lady. I'm sure that we can contrive a civilized marriage between us."
She wished that she was certain that was true.
Chapter Five
Tears flowing down her face, Sunny stood patiently while her maid laced up her white brocade bridal corset. Then Antoinette dropped the wedding gown over her head. It was magnificent, with foaming layers of Brussels lace and billows of white satin spangled with seed pearls and silver thread. Augusta had been so confident of her daughter's future triumph that she had ordered the gown from Worth when they visited Paris in March, before Sunny had ever set foot in London.
When the gown was fastened, Antoinette lifted the tulle veil and carefully draped it over the intricate coils of Sunny's hair. As the gauzy fabric floated down to her knees, the bride bleakly wondered if it was dense enough to conceal her tears.
Antoinette secured the veil with a coronet of orange blossoms, saying soothingly, "Don't fret, mademoiselle. Every girl is nervous on her wedding day. Monsieur le Due is a fine gentleman, and he will make you very happy."
Sunny's shoulders began shaking with the force of her sobs. Antoinette frowned and gave her a handkerchief, muttering, "Madame Vangelder should not have gone.ahead to the church. A girl needs her mother at a time like this."
As Sunny wept into the crumpled muslin square, a knock sounded at the door. Antoinette answered and returned with a large white flower box. "For you, mademoiselle."
"You can open it if you like," Sunny said drearily.
Less jaded than her mistress, Antoinette opened the package, disclosing an exquisite orchid bouquet nestled in layers of tissue paper. "There is a card for you, mademoiselle."
Sunny's puffy eyes widened when she read, These flowers are from the Swindon greenhouse. If they are suitable, perhaps you might wish to carry them. Fondly, Justin.
Oblivious to the fate of her five-yard-long train, Sunny dropped into a chair and wept even harder.
"Oh, mam'zelle," Antoinette said helplessly. "What about the orchids makes you weep? They are very lovely."
"Yes, they are." Sunny made a desperate effort to collect herself. "I was…touched by Thornborough's thoughtfulness in having them sent all the way from England."
Though it was not something she could say to her maid, she was even more moved by the fact that he was actually letting her choose whether or not to carry them. Every other detail of the wedding-the trousseau, the decorations, the extravagant reception-had been determined by her mother. Even the eight bridesmaids-including two Vangelder cousins, a Whitney, a Jay and an Astor-had been selected by Augusta for reasons of her own. Sunny had been swept along like a leaf in a torrent.
But Justin had given her a choice. Surely with such a considerate man, she could be happy. Unsteadily she said, "I must look like a fright. Please bring me some cold water and a facecloth." She glanced at the enormous bouquet Augusta had ordered. "You can set that aside. I will carry the orchids."
"But…" After the beginning of a protest, the maid nodded. "Yes, mademoiselle. An excellent choice."
As Antoinette went for the cold water, Sunny found herself wondering if the maid had ever endured the grotesquely undignified process of mating that Augusta had described. The thought almost sent her off in tears again.
For the last two days, at the most awkward moments, she had wondered the same thing about others: her brother Charlie, who was very fond of female company; the wife of the Anglican bishop who was going to perform the ceremony; Thornborough himself. Her morbid imaginings were turning her into a nervous wreck.
Antoinette returned with a basin of water and a cloth, then flipped the veil back over Sunny's head so that her face was bare. "You must hurry, mademoiselle, or you will be late."
As she sponged her stinging eyes with the cool, moist cloth, Sunny snapped, "They can all wait."
The day became increasingly unreal. Fifth Avenue was lined on both sides with policemen assigned to prevent the thousands of spectators from breaking through. The wedding was to be at St. Thomas 's Anglican church. Though the Vangelders didn't usually worship there, it was the only fashionable church with enough space for the seventy-voice choir Augusta had chosen.
Inside the church, huge arches of orange blossoms spanned the aisle, and banks of palms and chrysanthemums seemed to cover every vertical surface. Twenty-five excruciating minutes behind schedule, Sunny waited for her entrance, one icy hand clenched around her orchid bouquet and the other locked on her brother Charlie's arm. Though she could not see the guests clearly in the dim light, every pew seemed to be filled.
As the bridesmaids marched smartly down the aisle to the music of the sixty-piece orchestra, Charlie whispered, "Buck up, Sunny. Show them that an American girl is every bit the equal of any European princess."
The wedding march began, and Sunny started the long walk to the altar. If it hadn't been for her brother's firm support, the "American princess" might have fallen flat on her face.
With hysterical precision, she calculated that in the months since she had met Thornborough, they had seen each other for ten days, and been alone together for less than an hour. Why was she marrying a stranger? If it hadn't been for the five-yard train, she might have turned and bolted.
The dark figure of her fiance waited impassively at the altar. Next to him was his best man, a pleasant fellow called Lord Ambridge, an old school friend of Justin's who was currently serving in the British Embassy in Washington.
As Sunny drew closer to her future husband, she saw that his expression was grim. Then she looked into his eyes and realized that he was as nervous as she. Her lateness must have made him wonder if she had changed her mind.
Dear God, how humiliating those long minutes of waiting must have been for him. As Charlie handed her over, she gave Thornborough an unsteady smile of apology.
His expression eased. He took her hand, and the warmth of his clasp was the most real thing she had experienced all day.
They turned to face the bishop, and the ancient, familiar words transformed the stranger beside her into her husband.
The wedding night was a disaster. Later Justin realized that it had been foolish of him to think it could have been otherwise, yet he had had the naive hope that once he and his bride were alone together, they would be able to relax. To become friends.
Instead, the "wedding breakfast" had proved to be a huge reception that seemed as if it would never end. By the time they reached their hotel suite, Sunny's face was gray with fatigue.
He wanted to hold her but restrained himself, for she looked as if she would shatter at a touch. They had a lifetime ahead of them; it would be foolish to rush matters now.