Chapter 26 #2
Because we approached the longest day of the year, it was fully light in the very early hour Donata and I and Brewster departed for the village.
I’d worried that my wife, unused to rising before one in the afternoon, wouldn’t wake in time, but no.
Donata had been flitting around the house when I’d dragged myself from bed, and now she beamed at me from the opposite seat in the small carriage.
“Such a lovely morning,” she chirped. “Perfect weather for it.”
“You are vibrant.” I held the strap above the window as the coach wound down the steep hill toward the river. “Especially for so early a start.”
“Weddings are exciting.” Donata regarded me from under a small-brimmed, feathered hat. “And Gabriella will be settled at last. I was uncertain of Emile at first, but he has proved to be a dear lad.”
“Exciting?” I asked doubtfully.
“Of course. I admit, it is easier to be lively when attending a wedding. One is spared the dreadful trepidations one has about one’s own.”
My brows rose. “Did you have dreadful trepidations about ours?”
Donata’s smile widened, warming her eyes. “We had a small and intimate ceremony in my mother’s garden. Hardly the same thing.”
I noticed she did not actually answer the question, but I decided not to pursue it. I’d not experienced any worry at my first wedding. I’d been giddy. I should have let that feeling be a warning.
My wedding to Donata, however, had also seen me in a happy state, so I supposed I simply enjoyed the act of marrying.
We spoke little until the coachman halted in the village near the Auberge’s home.
Gabriella and Emile would first attend a civil ceremony in the mairie, the town hall, which would legally make them man and wife in the eyes of France. Another statute Bonaparte had put into place.
Carlotta and Auberge had gone with them to this ceremony, along with the Deveres. We were among the throng that filled the square outside the hall, waiting for the couple to emerge.
When they did, we greeted them with cheers. Gabriella beamed a shy smile at the attention, but Emile glanced around with head high, his pride obvious. His face was quite red, as was his cousin Claude’s—I imagined the older Claude had lubricated Emile thoroughly the night before.
The other cousin, Camille, walked at Gabriella’s side, as though confirming she’d bolster her new cousin-in-law against the mostly male Deveres.
The couple turned and made for the church at the end of the road.
The Auberge and Devere families fell in behind them, and Donata and I followed with the crowd, who cheered, waved handkerchiefs, and generally made a ruckus.
Villagers left their houses to shout their encouragement or join in the procession.
Donata laughed as we walked along. “Much more enjoyable than my staid entrance to St. George’s, Hanover Square.”
Indeed, the entire town had turned out to rejoice with the couple.
We reached the church, a medieval pile with massive stained glass windows, which must have stood here for four hundred years at the very least. This was a Catholic church, and I’d been raised to be very dourly Church of England.
My father certainly would have disapproved of me entering this building—loudly.
Nothing dire happened as Donata and I passed under the pointed arch of the doorway, its jamb lined with serene angels chasing away frolicking devils.
The church’s interior was cool, light flooding through windows of the nave and the clerestory above the main floor. The polished tiles beneath our feet lent more coolness on this warm morning.
In keeping with its ancient lineage, the church had little seating, though enclosed pews of the wealthy stood near the front. Benches had been provided so that the elderly and enfeebled—which I assumed included me—could sit during the ceremony.
Music began to blast as Gabriella and Emile entered, the tall pipes of the organ pumping out mighty strains. I spied the organist, he and the instrument small in a corner, pounding away at the keys.
We shuffled into place, the multitude leaving space for the couple. The altar had been draped in green hangings, which contrasted nicely with the bundles of white flowers placed on shelves around the altar and fastened with green ribbon to the columns of the aisles.
Major Auberge took Gabriella’s arm, while Emile disappeared with Claude via a side aisle, presumably to wait for her at the altar.
There had been some debate as to whether Major Auberge or I would escort Gabriella to Emile. I was her true father, I was always quick to point out, but I had to concede that Auberge had raised her, and raised her well.
Carlotta had not wanted me to do anything at all but stand in the back and observe, if that, but Auberge had acknowledged that this would not help relations between us.
Grenville, always an arbiter, had come up with a solution to suit everyone. Auberge would escort Gabriella, but I would follow them and stand with Auberge while he handed her over to Emile.
Grenville himself arrived as we were arranging ourselves, with Marianne on his arm.
To my surprise, Colonel Moreau also entered.
A few moments after he had nodded at me and drifted toward the left side of the church, Madame Paillard glided in.
She adjusted her gloves without meeting anyone’s gazes and managed to end up at Moreau’s side.
When the organist finished his prelude and started with softer strains, those attending straightened in anticipation.
As I took my place behind Auberge and Gabriella, I noted, out of the corner of my eye, Denis slipping in to stand at the very back of the crowd.
Brewster followed him, remaining near the church’s open doorway.
The priest of this church stepped out before the altar, clad in rich green robes and holding his book of office. Gabriella’s two half-sisters, who today were her giggling, excited bridesmaids, led the way, then Auberge and Gabriella surged forward, me behind them.
At the altar steps, Auberge released Gabriella’s hand. Emile, his face less vermillion now, reached for it.
Gabriella broke from both of them to slide past Auberge and embrace me in a crush of silk and white ribbons.
“Thank you, Father,” she whispered, and kissed my cheek.
My heart swelled as I squeezed her in return, my eyes wet when I released her.
She embraced Auberge as well, then returned to Emile, who sent her a smile of so much love that my eyes stung again.
I barely saw or comprehended the start of the ceremony, and could only stand behind Auberge, hoping I didn’t disturb anyone with my sobs.
A warm touch quieted me. Donata had come, sliding her hand through the crook of my arm. I gazed down at her and saw understanding in her eyes, as well as both the pain and happiness that she shared with me.
And so, my daughter was married. The ceremony was long, with a sermon based around the Wedding at Cana, followed by the eucharist. I was happy for Donata to tow me to one of the benches before an hour was out.
I rose again when Emile and Gabriella took their vows and then knelt before a statue of the patron saint of this village.
I watched my daughter cross herself easily, in unison with Emile, but then, she’d been raised in this church. She’d have learned by heart the gestures and responses of the Catholic faith.
I remembered Auberge telling me several years ago that when Gabriella had been a girl, she’d refused to say rosaries, because she’d wanted to worship the “English God” of her mother.
Both Carlotta and Gabriella had adapted, it seemed, as Carlotta now crossed herself as well.
My father would have had apoplexy, but Gabriella was far beyond his reach.
When the priest gave the final blessing, the watchers again erupted into cheers. Flower tossing and more handkerchief waving accompanied the happy bride and groom out into the summer morning.
The Devere brothers followed the pair, all of them as red-eyed and unsteady as Emile and Claude had been. Auguste, Emile’s father, nodded at me, but the others only gave me chilly stares before they marched out.
I slowly exited the church, my heart hammering with many emotions. Donata had faded from me to easily fall into conversation with Madame Paillard, who responded with equal aplomb. Marianne joined them, leaving Grenville to escort me out.
“Cheer up,” he advised. “We’ll sit through the wedding breakfast and then down plenty of brandy at your villa this afternoon.”
I agreed this would be a welcome respite at the end of a strenuous morning.
The procession wound along the road and out of the village, making for the Auberge’s farm, where the guests and couple of honor would celebrate. While the Deveres had organized the feast, Carlotta had insisted it not take place in a factory.
We were halfway along this route when Captain Vernet of the gendarmes stepped from the side of the road and halted in front of me. He wore his military uniform, but he was alone, without his sergeant or lieutenant.
“Captain Lacey,” he addressed me, without either affability or hostility. “Signora Ruggeri has disappeared, and I have information that it was you who caused this to happen.”