Chapter 33: Third Time’s the Charm

October 12, 1869

Priscilla was looking at her mirror image with appreciation. The light blue of her dress complimented her complexion and hair colour, and she could not find fault with the hair dresser’s work either. She was looking as good as humanly possible on this, her last day as Lady Crewes.

She smiled serenely as Rose and Samantha fussed over her, altering the seat of the combs, adjusting the little bow tie at the front of her dress, and casting admiring glances at the bride. This was so different from her second wedding when she had hired help to prepare for the ceremony. Now her friends took care of that, and that calmed Priscilla and made her enjoy the preparations.

John would be waiting downstairs, pacing up and down the hallway. He had courted Priscilla with patience and with respect all through her mourning year. She felt at ease with him, something that she had not achieved with either of her late husbands, and she had come to trust him — another new experience.

If anything, his family was less than welcoming to Priscilla. His eldest brother, The Hon. Spencer Barstow who would serve as John’s best man, was particularly arrogant, letting Priscilla know that she was nothing but an insignificant member of the gentry compared with the exalted position of the Barstows. This was a source of worry for Priscilla even though John assured her of his love and respect.

Now she was ready. Looking into the mirror one last time, she smiled at Rose and Samantha and nodded. Just then, voices seemed to float into Priscilla’s boudoir. She held up her hand when she recognised John’s voice, and both Rose and Samantha fell silent. The voices came from the fireplace and had to originate from the study below that shared the flue with the boudoir. Straining her ears, Priscilla could make out the words of an argument between John and his eldest brother.

“Bloody damn it, John! This is your last chance! Tell the woman you reconsider!”

“Spencer, how many times have I to repeat myself? I am not interested in marrying Bishop Abernathy’s daughter. She’s vain and an insufferable blabbermouth.”

“Yet she’ll bring quite a dowry into a marriage. You’ll also have her father’s support, and the man is certainly not without influence.”

“To hell with it! I shall marry Priscilla Crewes today. Spencer, you have to decide: will you serve as my best man today, or shall I have to find a replacement?”

“Good God! If you are so set on marrying that woman, so be it!” Spencer Barstow spat.

“I am. I trust her, I respect her, and I certainly love her.”

“Oh, well, love...” The Hon. Spencer Barstow snorted. “At least she brings some funds into the marriage, and I won’t have to subsidise you in the future.”

To Priscilla, John’s voice sounded very cold now. “I cannot remember ever asking for money from you. Now will you be civil to my bride?”

“Damn you, yes!”

“All right then. Let’s go out and wait in the hallway. She’ll be downstairs any minute.”

The voices died away, and Priscilla looked at her friends. Rose smiled and nodded.

“I suppose you can be certain of his feelings,” she stated with a satisfied smile.

A big smile spread over Priscilla’s face. “I can, can’t I? What’s the saying? Third time’s the charm?”

“He is defying his family to marry you!” Samantha gushed. “He loves you!”

If possible, Priscilla’s smile widened. “Rose, on the peril of embarrassing Samantha to death, will you give me one last kiss?”

It was a long kiss. Nobody looked at the wall clock, but it must have taken minutes before Rose and Priscilla’s lips parted.

“I love you, Cilla, and I always will,” Rose stated with a shaky voice. “My only solace is that you will marry somebody deserving today.”

“I love you too, Rose, and you will always be in my heart and in my thoughts.”

The smiles were back on their faces when they descended the stairs to meet the rest of the wedding party. Another hour and Priscilla would be Lady Priscilla Barstow. Casting a loving look at her groom, she stepped forward.

“Ready when you are, my dear!”