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A week before the wedding, Colin and Mary were taken into London to be fitted for their wedding clothes. After much pulling and shifting and waiting and deciding, they had ordered their clothing, to be delivered the day before the wedding. Miss Edmonds, soon to be Mrs. Craven, had been fitted for her gown, with the aid of Mary, as Colin assisted his father in choosing his attire. They had looked at so many choices, pondered carefully and debated the merits and faults of the choices. When finished, all were satisfied with the outcome and final choice, much to the relief of the bride-to-be.
On the train ride home, Mary yawned widely and complained, “I don’t think a day ever took so long, or been as tiring.”
“I know one that was longer,” Colin said quietly, his tone getting Mary’s attention. “The day you fell ill. It seemed to last forever. I thought you would die, and I didn’t know what I would do if you did.”
Mary was stunned. She felt she should apologize, but it was not her fault she had fallen ill, so she compromised.
“I’m sorry I worried you so,” Mary said, patting him on the arm. “I know you stayed with me and hardly slept or ate until Mrs. Medlock made you. You are very important to me, too. I promise to try and never worry you again.”
The children smiled at each other, and when the train came into the station, they were fast asleep, their heads leaning against each other.
In the second week of October, as the trees began to scatter their golden crowns of leaves, Misselthwaite Manor opened every one of its more than one hundred rooms (except the Forgotten Room, of course) to welcome wedding guests. The bride and groom, wanting to share their joy, invited everyone they could think of, even those they hardly knew, and the whole of Thwaite Village. Doctor Craven never seemed to stop shaking his head in wonder. Mary and Colin made sure the Sowerbys had carts decorated with flowers to bring them to the wedding. Susan Sowerby cried and laughed all at once, hugging every child, even those not her own, at least twice that day. Mrs. Medlock nearly did herself in getting the manor ready for the wedding. Every room except the Forgotten Room had been cleaned and aired, and grand decorations adorned the dining hall, where the ceremony would take place.
Mary’s dress, a rose-colored watered-silk dress full of lace, had arrived and fit perfectly. Colin had a black suit and a tie and waist-coat that matched the silk of Mary’s dress.
On the morning of the wedding, Dickon hurried to the garden in search of the last flowers of the season. He picked a bright rainbow bouquet and hurried to the manor house.
Finding Mary wandering nervously in the hallways near her room, where an indignant Hetty cat had been confined and could be heard meowing angrily through the door. Dickon smiled.
“Shouldn’t th’ bride be nervous an’ not tha’?” he teased.
“I’m being nervous for her,” Mary replied breathlessly, patting her dress absently.
“Tha’ looks lovely, Miss Mary,” Dickon said, not seeing his garden friend but a lovely young-woman-to-be with her hair pulled up in lace ribbons that matched her dress.
“Look, here,” he said, holding the flowers out to Mary. “Even the garden bloomed somthin’ special for today.”
Mary held the cool, soft petals to her face.
“Do you think Miss Edmonds could use them in her bridal bouquet?” Mary asked.
“I think they’s look more beautiful bein’ carried by you,” Dickon suggested softly.
“All right, then, I will,” Mary said, suddenly feeling shy for the first time around Dickon.
She turned to leave.
“Mary,” Dickon said, touching her arm.
“Yes, Dickon?” Mary asked, puzzled by the anxious look on Dickon’s face.
Quickly, without knowing why he did it, Dickon kissed Mary’s cheek, and then hurried away, as Mary, blinking with surprise and her cheeks flushed with pleasure, watched him go.
Everyone in attendance agreed Miss Edmonds was a beautiful bride. Lord Craven looked splendid in his black tuxedo and top hat. Colin and Mary carried the rings on special pillows and presented them at the appointed moments, trying not to burst into happy giggles.
As the service neared its end, just after both parties had said ‘I do’, but before they were pronounced ‘Man and Wife,’ the officiating priest turned to Mary and Colin and addressed them.
“The bride and groom have asked that I present a question to the young man and lady here today, before the ceremony is complete,” he explained, his long robes rustling at his feet as he shifted.
Mary and Colin looked nervously at each other, wondering what was happening.
“Do you, Young Master Colin Craven, take Jane Craven as your mother?” he asked, smiling encouragingly at the boy.
Colin opened his mouth and shut it again. Mary nudged him with her elbow.
“I do!” he blurted.
“And you, Miss Mary Lenox,” the priest asked, turning toward her, “take Archibald and Jane Craven to be your guardians and parents?”
Mary looked at the new Mrs. Craven, beaming hopefully over her bridal bouquet, and Archibald Craven, standing almost straight without a cane.
“I do!” she declared, now knowing at last that she had found her home and that she was truly wanted and loved.
THE END
