The ancient church was fragrant with the scent of massed banks of flowers. The gold of the bride’s hair gleamed softly through her veil as she stood, so straight and slender, beside her tall, dark bridegroom.
‘And, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long ye both shall live?’
Lady Hindlesham gazed at the ivory satin back. How lovely May looked, and so slim! She looked ruefully down at her own thickening waistline. How strong-minded May had been, determined to finish her contract, and work her full year as a staff nurse; such constancy should, perhaps, make one feel rather ashamed – but then, everyone had to make their own decisions. She was so glad she’d been able to persuade George to let her come. He was the dearest of husbands, but he did fuss a little, sometimes – but she just couldn’t have missed May’s wedding. Strange to think that if it hadn’t been for May rejecting Harry Cussons’ proposal… It didn’t bear thinking of – though George had had to endure the anguish of the divorce as a consequence.
Darling George, so kind, so generous, and always so understanding. She shifted slightly on the narrow wooden seat, then, catching her husband’s glance of loving concern, turned to him and smiled her reassurance. He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, and she entwined her fingers in his, warmed by his firm clasp. It was sweet of George to be so concerned, but she had been quite well, only a little tired, and her confinement wasn’t due for another couple of months. Besides, how could she not have made the journey, however long, to May’s wedding? After all, it was May who had first brought them together. And Ellen Hindlesham’s thoughts went back to that blustery day outside the House of Lords when she had cannoned so unceremoniously into the man at her side.
‘For better for worse, for richer for poorer…”
Such a suitable match – breeding and wealth on both sides, and no doubt whatsoever of the good looks of this pair. Melicent Andover, her silvery hair soft and shining under one of Paquin’s smartest new toques, gave a barely perceptible nod of approval. It had taken rather longer than she’d anticipated to marry her granddaughter off so satisfactorily, but she had finally achieved her goal. And one had to admit that although she would have found Harry Cussons a more entertaining grandson-in-law, Walter Lisle was probably a more appropriate choice for May – Julia’s influence had bit deeper than anyone had realised. Besides, his eventual marriage to Della had dimmed some of Harry’s old spirit – he was even getting a little paunchy these days, whereas Walter had such a beautiful figure – slim and lithe, yet so obviously well-muscled…
They did make a handsome couple. She’d nearly despaired of May at one point, the girl had seemed so engrossed in her nursing; but as soon as Archie had brought Walter Lisle back to tea that day and she’d heard him talk so intensely of the problems of his East End parish – then she’d known he was the one for May. Why, the very first evening, when they’d barely been introduced to each other, they’d got on so famously, she’d noticed it at once. Such a shame Walter would insist on staying in Poplar, and May was just as bad – completely determined. Not a healthy place for bringing up children – still, they would be re-opening the nurseries at Stemhalton this summer, for Bertie and Louise; May’s babies could come and stay – she’d soon catch up with Louise, now this absurdly long engagement was over.
How much more sensible George’s little Ellen had been. An unusual girl, not a patch on Della for looks, but George seemed quite besotted by her. Still, it must be quite a change for him to have a wife who refused to make even a pretence of using a separate bedroom – the servants had been quite shocked, Ursula said, but they always hated anything middle-class. And the girl was doing her duty fast enough. If any man deserved a son and heir after so long it was George Hindlesham, and it was so important to secure the continuance of these ancient titles.
Lady Andover’s attention returned to the bride and groom. What beautiful children May and Walter would produce – perhaps a daughter with May’s delicacy of feature allied to Walter’s dark, dramatic colouring – but more docile than her mother, of course. Now whom could she marry? There was Elizabeth Chevron’s son – one of the oldest dukedoms – but what of the young boys growing up at Marlborough House, grandsons of her old friend? And Melicent Andover’s ambitions climbed steadily higher.
‘Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.’
Another good nurse lost to the profession, Matron sighed to herself. What an efficient Staff Nurse she’d made – really, it was a tragedy to see a young woman of such potential sacrificed on the altar of Hymen. Still a few faults to be ironed out, of course, but given a few years of running a busy ward… Nurse Carter lost as well – it was difficult to believe she would have married an Earl, even a divorced one, without the influence of Nurse Winton. One just had to be thankful that the final member of that trio was such a convinced suffragette – no romantic nonsense there, at least.
Weddings were so depressing – the only bright spot was the food, such a pleasant change from that served in the hospital. A reminiscent smile flickered for a moment over Matron’s face. That naughty girl, Nurse Winton – speaking out to Sir James like that! But one had to admire her spirit, that’s why she’d have gone far; obedience alone was never enough. And to think she’d nearly turned her down out of hand – if that other intending probationer hadn’t backed out at the crucial moment. If any young woman had looked like a forlorn hope as a future nurse it was the fashionable Miss May Winton – far too good-looking, for a start. But she’d obviously had a healthy pair of lungs, always important, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. Then, once she’d arrived she’d rolled up her sleeves and really put her back into it, and gone on from strength to strength. All that good work undone by one dark-eyed young clergyman – why, this young woman could have been one of the Great Matrons – what a terrible waste!
‘Let the people praise Thee, O God: yea, let all the people praise Thee.’
Walter Lisle glanced sideways under his lashes at his beautiful bride. His gaze lingered – lovely, lovely May. So tall and strong and determined, and yet she could be so kind and gentle. How lucky he’d been to catch sight of her in the crude light of the Chrisp Street flares – even then he’d wanted to approach her. That was why he’d been so furious when he thought she was a silly Society girl, come thoughtlessly down to laugh at the poverty of Dockland. Poor May, how he’d ranted and raved at her – and she’d set her lovely mouth in an angry line and flashed her beautiful eyes with such scorn in his direction. What a disastrous beginning to their courtship!
One wouldn’t wish pain on anybody, but how lucky it was that Hetty Barnes had been taken to St Katharine’s when she went down with appendicitis, and to May’s ward – suppose he’d never seen her again? The thought sent cold shivers down his spine even now. After all, it was pure chance that they’d both been at Lady Andover’s dinner party – he’d known Archie for years, even heard him talk of his Cousin May, but he had had no idea of what she was.
May shifted slightly at his side; as she moved he felt her hand lightly brush his, and everything else was forgotten in an overwhelming surge of love and tenderness. Darling, darling, May.