Destiny's Bride Page 11
But what about my feelings for Randall Bondurant? They had been suppressed so long it was difficult to be honest even with myself. My initial girlish attraction to him at the time of Alair's wedding had lain dormant all these years. Now, even though I knew him to be a man of moods and of sudden, bewildering tempers, I also knew him to be a tender, loving father.
In my heart of hearts I knew I had become as much entwined in Randall's life as in those of his children. I could not imagine life without any of them.
But what of love—romantic love—such as Pietro offered me? I was, after all, only twenty-two. Could I exist in the hope that Randall might one day love me? If he had truly loved Alair, so different in every way from me, it would be folly to hope that such a thing could happen.
No, if I were going to accept Randall's proposal, it must be on his terms.
"Marriage is an honorable estate, not to be entered into lightly, inadvisedly—" From somewhere, the words of the marriage ceremony repeated themselves in my brain.
Was our mutual love for the children enough of a bond for marriage? Was it a valid reason to forego the chance that I might know love to its fullest with some other man later on? So many things to consider, so many conflicting feelings! I wished for someone to consult, some trusted friend to advise me.
Then I realized that I was overlooking the obvious. I had always been taught to pray over decisions, and this was surely the most important I had yet been called upon to make. Leafing through my Bible, I searched the Psalms and read at random in Proverbs.
Finally, I buried my head in my hands and simply told God what was in my heart: "Lord, show me what to do. I want to please You. Is it Your will that I become stepmother to Lally and Nora? Will You give me some kind of assurance that this is Your plan for me?"
I stayed there on my knees for some time. The only thing that came to me was the familiar verse: "Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven."
It was such a spontaneous thought that I did not trust it. I remembered Auntie Kate saying once that any decision that was not life or death could wait three days to be made. In that time God would do one of three things: He would check you clearly, He would change the circumstances, or He would give peace about the matter.
Three days, I thought. I'll wait three days and then I'll pray again. When I got up from my knees, all the troubled confusion I'd felt earlier had left. At least I knew that had been the right decision.
A gentle knock at my door and Rosalba's soft voice reminded me, "Miss Dru, the children are waiting for you to join them for supper."
"I'm coming, Rosalba," I called and hurriedly checked my face and hair in the mirror for traces of my emotional turmoil. Then I hurried out and went to the playroom, where supper had been set out.
Later, when each child hugged and kissed me good night, it seemed the confirmation I'd been seeking.
"I love you, Drucie!" Two little hearts echoed their love. I felt a lump rise in my throat as the little arms held me tightly, and my eyes misted over as I tucked them in for the night.
Three days later I stood again outside Randall's study door, awaiting his call to enter.
He was sitting at the ornate, curved table he used for a desk and raised his head as I came in, a frown on his face.
At my approach, he got to his feet. "So, have you reached your decision then?" Was it my own nervousness or did he seem uncertain? He picked up the silver dagger-shaped letter opener and turned it over several times in his open palm.
I took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, I have."
"And?" His dark eyebrows lifted.
With greater serenity than I felt, I spoke. "I have considered all the things you said, thought it over seriously—and prayed."
"It has taken you long enough," Randall interrupted briskly, walking over to the inlaid side table where a decanter of wine stood on a silver tray beside delicate tulip-shaped glasses. His long fingers toyed with the domed top. "So then?" he prompted me.
"I love the girls with all my heart. Leaving them is—"
"Leaving them?" he echoed harshly.
"I was about to say that leaving them is unthinkable. Furthermore, I must think of my mother. What you have proposed would provide me with the security—"
"Security? There is no security on earth, only opportunity. My proposal would give you the opportunity to do whatever you wished." Scorn seemed to narrow his eyes as his glance grazed me. He very deliberately poured a reddish liquid into one of the glasses, raised it to his lips, then asked bluntly. "Are you telling me you have decided to grasp this opportunity?"
Color rushed into my face. I could even feel my ears tingle with warmth. Put that way, it sounded so crass, so mercenary. I felt rebuffed, uncomfortable, gauche.
Immediately, Randall's expression underwent a distinct change. "I apologize, my dear. I didn't intend to hurt you. It is just that I have heard too many fools make too many casual remarks about security to be able to swallow pat phrases. I, personally, know that life is full of risk as well as opportunity. As Shakespeare said, 'There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.' So many people fail to realize when their own tide is at the flood. I hope you are not among them."
I clasped my hands tightly behind me and lifted my chin in what I hoped was a display of Montrose pride and dignity. "I mean, sir, that I am prepared to accept your offer of marriage."
"Fine!" Randall said heartily. He held up his glass, "I toast your sensibility. I will go ahead then with all the arrangements."
Plans moved forward rapidly. The children were told, and reacted with a joyfulness that touched me deeply. They smothered me with hugs and kisses.
"Now you will be with us always, Drucie!" Nora declared ecstatically while Lally squeezed me so tightly I could scarcely breathe.
As the actual wedding day neared, I was filled with misgivings. Even then I was too busy to dwell too much upon them. There was much to be done before we returned to America, to Virginia—the most difficult being breaking the news to Pietro of my impending marriage.
It was an emotional moment. The distress he felt showed in his dark, sorrowful eyes.
"But, cara Dru, it is you and I who were destined for each other!" he protested.
I tried to explain my reasons, but they seemed shallow and grasping instead of devoted and selfless.
Pietro shook his head sadly. "I know I had nothing to offer you—not wealth nor position. If we had met at another time, perhaps—but—" He shrugged helplessly.
"I will always think of you with great affection, Pietro. You have made my time in Rome very special."
"And you, cara mia, will remain always in my heart." He bowed over my hand, kissing it for the last time. "Arrivederci.
I watched him go down the garden path, disappear in the shadow of the silvery cypress trees. I felt a strange urge to call him back, but it was too late. I had already charted my destiny.
How many times in the days that followed did I think of the adage I had heard over and over in my childhood: "You can have what you want if you're willing to pay the price. But never forget the price must be paid, and sometimes it is more than you bargained for."
This was brought sharply to my mind the day of our wedding. Even though I was superbly gowned by one of the leading salons of Rome at Randall's insistence, I felt as forlorn as any waif as I dressed that morning.
"Oh, Signorina, you look bella!" sighed Rosalba as she assisted me with the many buttons.
My dress, a rose-ivory moire silk, was more elegant than anything I had ever owned. It was fashioned in the latest style, a fitted basque trimmed with ecru lace as was the overskirt, which was drawn back into a bustle, the skirt descending in tiers of lace ruffles. My bonnet was of Tuscan straw, adorned with ivory velvet roses and grosgrain streamers. I wore creamy kid gloves. The only part of the ceremony that I remember clearly was my struggle to unbutton the left one to free my
finger to receive the narrow gold band Randall slipped on it.
Since neither of us was Catholic, we could not arrange to be married in any of the dozens of Catholic churches in Rome. And the minister of the Anglican church to which I had taken the girls several times was in England on leave. So we settled for the impersonal, civil pronouncement administered by an Italian government official. It was hardly any girl's dream. For me to take this most important step of my life, so far from home and family, seemed almost sacrilegious.
I had not anticipated the sense of letdown nor the feeling of depression that followed the brief ceremony.
As we stepped out of the dim interior of the building into the dazzling noon sunlight of the square, I saw two old Italian women tending a flower stand.
They looked at me curiously as we passed. I wondered what they were thinking as they put their heads together. What were they saying? "How grave the bridegroom looks? How pale and serious the bride?" Were they lamenting a wedding without music or flowers, the scent of burning candles, no family or friends throwing rose petals, calling felicitations and greetings?
Well, what had I expected? I asked myself as we got back into the carriage for our return to the villa. I had settled for a marriage of mutual benefit. It was merely a contract we had both signed. Nothing had been said about love.
And yet, nonetheless, love had been the basis—love for the children, love for my mother, and my undeclared, unreturned love for Randall.
Since I had agreed to the terms, why did I feel such a devastating emptiness about it all? I pondered this question on the silent ride home.
Only the children prevented the day from being a dismal disaster. They came running down the terrace steps to meet us, followed by a beaming Rosalba.
I bent to embrace them, gathering them close, responding to their innocent, unconditional love. This was the reason for my decision, I reminded myself, and their happiness was worth it all!
I felt Randall's eyes upon us and looked up at him, but he turned quickly away, saying to Rosalba, "We'll have our lunch on the piazza today." Then he went striding up the steps ahead of us.
It was a festive meal. The cook had taken special pains with each dish. There was champagne and fresh peaches and a wedding cake. The children were happy and talkative, a welcome distraction from Randall's extraordinary taciturnity.
Occasionally, I glanced over at him and inadvertently met his gaze. It seemed particularly expressionless. I found myself wishing desperately that the circumstances were different and that Randall's eyes held the kind of light I had once seen in them when he looked at Alair.
Quickly I reminded myself of the "arrangement" that precluded that possibility, but very humanly I could not help hoping that one day—maybe far in the future—the admiration and respect Randall had expressed for me might grow into love.
After the day filled with unusual excitement and tension, I felt quite weary. I put the girls to bed as usual and went to my room. Although exhausted, I was not sleepy. I opened the windows and stepped out onto the balcony.
It was an enchanted evening—soft blue twilight deepening into purple. One by one the stars came out. Later, a pale thumbnail of a moon appeared above the line of cypresses.
A kind of melancholy welled up within that I was spending my wedding night alone with no one to share this beauty.
It was then I saw the tall, solitary figure walking along the garden path. I recognized it at once.
Had Randall, too, found sleep difficult on this, our wedding night? I had never known him to walk alone in the garden at night. Usually he would be out with friends. Did he no longer feel free to do so now that we were married? Perhaps he was even now regretting our contract. Did I?
As I watched him disappear into the maze near the fountain, the question begged an answer. Was marrying Randall Bondurant really my destiny, or would this marriage ultimately mean my destruction?
Part III
September 1884
chapter
16
September 1884
Dearest Mama,
By the time you receive this letter, we will probably be in England ready to set sail for America, for home. But while it is still all fresh in my mind, I wanted to tell you about our "wedding trip"—if you can call traveling with two children, our Italian maid, and numerous pieces of luggage, dolls, and toys—a wedding trip!
Randall wanted to visit Germany and Austria before we leave Europe. He has had a long-standing invitation to visit a friend, an Austrian nobleman, and stay at his hunting lodge near the famous Black Forest.
It is mysteriously beautiful country, deserving of its name. Dense rows of tall, silver firs with the light barely filtering through make it seem almost eerie. Nora declared that it looked like just such a forest as Hansel and Gretel wandered in until they came upon the witch's cottage. Lally moved closer to me at this.
The lodge belonging to Herr Hesse was a large, dark-timbered structure with a heavy overhanging roof. Set in the midst of this shadowy valley surrounded by the looming mountains, it was a bit foreboding. The interior was gloomy, as well, with its vaulted ceilings and shuttered windows.
In the morning the men went hunting. At noon we women and children followed by carriage to a pine-needled clearing for a picnic. A "picnic" there is hardly the casual affair that we enjoy in Mayfield. Long before we arrived, servants had set up long banquet tables covered with damask cloths, and had brought out hampers of lobster salad, salmon mousse, venison, delicious varieties of fresh fruits—plums, pears, and luscious grapes—chilled beverages and hot coffee. It was a feast fit for royalty.
From there we drove to Vienna—a city of squares, palaces, grand buildings, lovely parks, and delectable pastries. Randall asked me if I wanted to go to the opera, but I declined. There is no lack of music throughout the city—a quartet playing continually in the lobby of our hotel, a band in the park where we took the children every day, and strolling musicians in every coffeehouse and wine garden. Vienna is a city of make-believe. Every scene seems the setting for a romantic tableau.
The boat trip down the Rhine was for me the most enjoyable part of the whole trip. On either side steep cliffs ascended to green meadows; picturesque castles perched on craggy heights. One's imagination takes wings, picturing brave knights battling dragons on the steep mountain passes to rescue fair damsels. You may be sure the girls and I exchanged story ideas of princesses locked in high towers, awaiting the arrival of the handsome prince.
In Berlin we put Rosalba on the train to Rome before we boarded our own train for Paris. The parting was tearful, but promises were made to return to Italy one day.
Sad as I was to leave dear Rosalba, who had been such a help and comfort to me with the children, I was looking forward to my first trip to France.
I will tell you in person about our visits to the Louvre, Versailles, Mont St. Michel, and the Cathedral de Notre Dame—all awe-inspiring, impressive, overwhelming! But I know what would be of greatest interest to you, Mama, was my visit—insisted upon, I must add, by Randall—to the salon of Monsieur Worth.
Accompanied by Randall, I set out early in the morning by carriage from the hotel. It was so early that baker boys were running along the streets with baskets full of freshly baked bread to deliver to the hotels for breakfasts.
An appointment had been made for me, and we were ushered into the establishment of one of the world's most famous designers. There was a hushed atmosphere intensified by the thick carpets, the velvet draperies, the low voices of the modistes and their assistants all dressed in elegant black gowns. I was taken into a mirrored room, helped to undress, and had my measurements taken so that any of the models we chose could be made up to my exact proportions.
I heard Randall telling the head modiste that three of the outfits must be ready by the time we left for England; anything else I chose could be sent to use later in Virginia.
Of course, I was thrilled to have designer ensembles made to order for
me. However, I did rather resent the hours of fitting required while Randall took the children to Les Bois and then on a boat ride down the Seine while I was trapped in one of the dressing rooms at Worth's, being pinned and tucked.
The final result, however, was well "worth" it. Wait until you see my traveling outfit! The softest of cashmere wool, with cinnamon velvet trim, the jacket collar and cuffs of pale mink; an afternoon tea gown of rich velvet, edged in satin and point lace, and a ball gown of gossamer tulle, embroidered with seed pearls. I can just see your expression when you see your daughter in her Parisian finery!
After an amazingly smooth channel crossing, we took the train up to London. The English countryside is like turning the pages of a picture book—green hedges, flocks of peacefully grazing sheep, stone cottages nestled in rolling hills, here and there a church steeple.
Then we rushed into the huge tunnel of Victoria Station. From there a carriage ride through crowded, noisy, dirty streets to the Claridge Hotel, which is all elegance and splendor. Footmen, I guess you call them, in powdered wigs, scarlet and gold jackets, white stockings, and buckled shoes took care of our luggage.
Our rooms are luxurious—huge bouquets of flowers in vases, fires in the fireplaces, rosy-cheeked maids bringing hot water for baths.
The children were so tired that they fell asleep the instant their heads touched the pillows. Since Randall had suggested that he and I dine downstairs in the dining room, we arranged with the management for a maid to stay with the girls in our suite while we were out.
I must get ready, dear Mama, but I will see you soon to regale you in person with other stories of our travels.
In two days' time, we sail for America, then go by train to Richmond. I can scarcely wait to set foot on Virginia soil again and to see my dearest mother after so long a time!
Ever your loving daughter,