Chapter 4 #2
On Monday morning, Dominique made the calls she had promised the Whitfields she would make. She made them herself, in case the prices were outrageous. She didn’t want her employees to know how much she would spend on a wedding. That was no one’s business but her own.
As she had guessed, the Frick was considerably more expensive than the Met for a wedding reception.
They insisted on a high level of security circulating to watch the guests and protect the art, there was a very sizable amount as a security deposit, and additional insurance.
They required that one use their caterer and florist. It was more restrictive, but would also be more beautiful and seem more exclusive.
It had been a private home and still had that appearance.
Dominique made careful notes, tallied up the amounts, and stared at the page.
It was going to be a very costly event if they did it at the Frick, but exceptionally beautiful for sure.
When she called the special events office at the Met, it was noticeably more reasonable.
Dominique could design her own look and choose between several different parts of the museum, and they had a list of accepted caterers and florists.
The security deposit was much lower, and when she added up all the pros and cons, Dominique thought the Met made more sense, and there were two or three wings of the museum that she thought would provide a beautiful setting, one of them with a garden where guests could stand or sit and drink on a warm June night.
She called Felicity that afternoon and explained the options to her.
Felicity came to the same conclusion, and they wouldn’t be as worried about damaging the art.
There was more room to move around at the Met, a space to dance outside if they set up a tent, and she loved the outdoor sitting area.
The Met was her first choice. And it was available on June twentieth.
“So shall we do it?” Dominique asked her. It had fallen into place really easily. “It’s an omen,” Dominique said, and Felicity didn’t comment. “I’ll send them the check today. It’s not ours until we pay.”
“It’s an awful lot of money, Mama,” Felicity said hesitantly. “I feel really guilty.”
“You’re my daughter and I want to give you a beautiful wedding,” Dominique said, sounding sure. “I’ll call Elizabeth and tell her. And let’s compromise on the guest list. How about three hundred, it’s more than you want and less than they want. How does it sound to you?”
“Like too many people. I’ll hide in the garden,” Felicity said, and her mother was afraid she meant it.
“Not everyone will come and you’ll wind up with two-thirty or two-forty,” Dominique said, consulting her list of additional things they had to settle, like invitations and calligraphy, escort cards, a band, the cake, which would be a big deal, and the caterer.
And she wanted to do a walk-through with her florist. The wedding was going to be exquisite, in a new wing of Impressionist paintings, which would be beautiful with huge urns and bouquets of white flowers.
Even Felicity had to admit it sounded beautiful, and she was smiling when she went back to her easel, thinking about it.
She was beginning to feel better about the wedding after getting off to a bad start.
Maybe it would be all right to get married in seven months.
It seemed so soon before, but it sounded pretty now.
She had been swept along by her mother’s flood of colorful images and good ideas.
It made the wedding feel less ominous. She knew she shouldn’t feel that way about marrying a man she loved, but she did.
* * *
After Thanksgiving, Dominique and her daughters were leaving on their travels.
Felicity was going to Paris with her mother to look for a dress.
Violet was going to London first, and planned to drive around the countryside looking for auctions and garage sales, to find unusual objects.
And then she would go to the auctions at the H?tel Drouot in Paris to see what else she could find, furniture, art, pairs of oversized leather chairs, anything and everything, as long as it was vintage, unusual, beautiful, and had charm.
Bidding in an auction and winning her prize would be half the fun.
“Would you mind if I stay at Bonne Mamie’s house for a couple of days?” she asked her mother when she saw her for lunch. Dominique was surprised.
“Of course not. Why would you ask me that? Your grandmother will be so pleased. She likes it when we’re all there at the same time.
” Violet knew that was true. Her grandmother was always delighted to see them.
She led a solitary life and enjoyed their company.
It pained Dominique at times to see her mother so alone.
In winter sometimes, in bad weather, she went for weeks without leaving the house or speaking to anyone, other than the housekeeper who came in for a few hours.
She read a great deal, and said she didn’t mind the solitude.
But Dominique hated it for her. She was alone with her memories so much of the time, and never complained about it.
Marie-Aurélie was excited that her daughter and granddaughter were coming to visit for a few days, and an additional granddaughter would be even more of a treat.
Violet left for London the day before her mother and sister took their flight to Paris on Thursday night, arriving on Friday morning.
Marie-Aurélie’s driver was waiting for them and took them to the house on the rue de Grenelle in the seventh arrondissement in morning traffic.
She was up and dressed impeccably and had coffee and breakfast pastries waiting for them, with delicious apricot jam.
It was all set up on a round table in a sunny spot in front of the window, with exquisite embroidered linens and flowered antique plates.
Marie-Aurélie had beautiful things and she loved using them when she had guests.
She had snow-white hair and vibrant blue eyes, her back was straight, and she had perfect posture when she walked toward Dominique and hugged her.
She felt thin and frail to her daughter, but she looked solid and healthy in a chic gray wool dress that was timelessly elegant Chanel haute couture.
She wore it with a priceless necklace of large pearls that Armand had given her.
Her hands were thin and graceful and she was wearing a large diamond solitaire that looked even bigger on her small hand.
Dominique smiled when she saw how fashionable her mother still was, although none of her clothes were new.
But they were classically beautiful and had all been made to measure for her.
She had the elegance of another time, another era as she moved around the living room with ease.
She did exercises every day to stay limber, and her figure was as flawless as Dominique’s and Felicity’s.
The women of their bloodline had perfect posture and grace that made them seem younger than they were.
Marie-Aurélie appeared to be in her sixties and not eighty-five. She wore her age well.
“So why am I lucky enough to have a visit from the two of you?” she asked them as she poured them a second cup of tea with a steady hand.
Dominique hadn’t told her about Felicity’s engagement yet.
She was keeping it as a surprise, and Felicity hadn’t worn her engagement ring to travel, which Dominique had noticed on the flight.
“We’re shopping for a wedding dress,” Dominique said quietly with a smile.
“For whom?” her mother asked them, intrigued, looking from one to the other.
“For me, Bonne Mamie,” Felicity said shyly, and Marie-Aurélie turned to her daughter with a raised eyebrow.
“You didn’t want to design a dress for her?” She was startled.
“She wants something different,” Dominique explained. “And it’s a good excuse to see you.”
“And who is the groom?”
“The same man I’ve been seeing for three years.” Her grandmother had met him twice briefly, and Felicity doubted she’d remember. He had just come to the apartment for a few minutes when Felicity was taking an art class for a month at the Louvre, a study of hands for her portrait work.
“You don’t sound excited about it.” She had picked up Felicity’s hesitation immediately.
“He surprised me. I didn’t want to think of marriage so soon. I wanted to wait a few years, but he’s five years older than I am, and he’s ready.”
“And you’re not?” Her grandmother studied her with all-seeing eyes. She was observant and astute.
“I’m getting used to the idea.” She made it sound like an affliction.
“Why? Why not wait if you’re not ready…or…are you…?” She meant pregnant in her delicate way, and Felicity shook her head with a smile.
“No, I’m not.”
“We’re doing it at the Met, in June,” Dominique stepped into the gap. “In a new Impressionist wing they just opened. It’s going to be very pretty.”
“And will you be happy?” Marie-Aurélie’s intense blue eyes bore into her granddaughter’s. There was no escaping her eagle gaze that saw all, straight into one’s soul.
“I will,” Felicity said. “And I’m having a show at a very good gallery two weeks before.” She beamed when she said it. She was more excited about that than the wedding.
“If you’re not sure about the wedding, you should delay it,” Marie-Aurélie advised. “If he loves you, he’ll wait until you’re ready. Why is he in a hurry? Most men aren’t.”
“He has a pushy mother,” Felicity said bluntly. “He’s an only son and he likes to keep his parents happy.”
“At your expense,” her grandmother said softly. She had sensed Felicity’s qualms immediately, and didn’t understand why she was going ahead just to please him. It made no sense to her. “Where are you shopping for the dress?” she asked.
“Chanel, Dior, maybe some others. Felicity wants a very simple dress, nothing grand or fussy,” her mother filled in.