died about three years ago,” said Leonie hastily, bringing Jess back to life. “It was a great shock to Lorenzo. He was married very young, I think. I’m not sure of the details. Actually, I think Roberto’s a bit in awe of his older brother, though they see a lot more of each other these days.” She gave Jess a sparkling look. “Not that Lorenzo looked much like the grieving widower just now.”
“He took me by surprise,” muttered Jess as they went in.
Leonie chuckled. “I can see that. You’re still in shock!”
Jess shivered a little, and Leonie urged her inside the house.
“Come on I’ll make you a hot drink while mother inspects those hands. By the way,” she added, “in all the excitement I hope you didn’t forget the earrings!”
To the disappointment of Tom Dysart, who rather fancied himself in his father’s morning coat and top hat, his daughter had insisted on a very informal wedding. Lounge suits would be worn instead of morning dress for the men. The female guests could splash out on hats. But otherwise she wanted very much the same kind of garden party Jonah’s parents had put on in their Hampstead house seven years before, to celebrate their first, ill-fated engagement.
“Only this time,” Leonie had declared, “we’ll be celebrating a wedding at Friars Wood and nothing will go wrong. The sun will shine, and we’ll live happily ever after.”
She was right about the weather. The June Sunday was glorious from the start, with just enough breeze to mitigate the heat without endangering the umbrellas shading the tables on the lawn. When the kitchen in the main house was given over to the caterers, quite soon after breakfast, the family moved out into Adam’s quarters until it was time to get ready for the main event.
“Rounded up any more guests this morning, Leo?” quizzed Adam, over an early lunch.
“Cheek!” The bride smiled at her mother. “But when I found Lorenzo Forli was here with Roberto it seemed a shame not to ask him. You don’t mind, do you, Mother?”
“Not in the least,” said Frances placidly. “Numbers don’t matter at this kind of thing. And it was very good of him to drive Jess home last night. How on earth did you come to fall like that, darling?”
“Death-defying heels, no doubt,” said Tom Dysart. “I hope you’re trotting down the aisle in something safer, Jess.”
“She has to,” said Kate, who measured only an inch or so over five feet. “Today I’m in the high heels and Jess is down to something safer to even us out.”
“Just make sure you don’t fall over, then, half-pint,” advised her brother.
“As if!” she retorted, giving him a push.
“My shoes don’t have any heels at all,” said Fenny with regret, then brightened. “But they’ve got little yellow rosebuds on the toes.”
“Time enough for high heels where you’re concerned,” said Tom lovingly, then looked at the bride’s plate with disapproval. “For pity’s sake eat something else, Leo. I can’t have you fainting as we march up the aisle.”
“No chance,” Leonie assured him. “But my dress fits so perfectly I’m leaving the pigging out bit until the wedding feast.”
“You’re very quiet, Jess,” observed her mother. “Are your hands still hurting?”
“Not so much.” Jess yawned a little. “I’m just a bit tired after my jury stint, I suppose. Don’t worry,” she added, “no one will be looking at me today.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. How about Lorenzo the Magnificent?” said Adam, carving off a sliver of ham with a deft hand. “The man couldn’t take his eyes off you last night.”
“Rubbish!” Jess made a face at him. “I’d never even met Lorenzo Forli until—until last night.”
“So you hadn’t,” said Leonie, smiling slyly. “Just think how much better you can get to know him today!”
“Talking of today,” said Frances, holding out a hand to Fenny, “we’d better get ready. Mrs Briggs will clear away before she sets off for the church, so get a move on everyone. You don’t want to be late, Leo.”
“Perish the thought,” teased Jess, pulling her sister up. “Jonah admitted to nerves last night, so don’t keep the poor man waiting on tenterhooks at the altar.”
“Don’t worry—I’ll be punctual to the second.”
Leonie was true to her word. Long before it was time to leave the house she was ready, in a slim, unadorned column of ivory slipper satin. Jess secured the pearl brooch into her sister’s gleaming hair, handed over the earrings, then stood back to admire the effect.
“How do I look?” she asked.
“Absolutely beautiful,” said her mother fondly. “And your bridesmaids do you proud, darling.”
Jess and Kate were in bias-cut chiffon the creamy yellow shade of Fenny’s layers of organdie, the child in such a state of excitement by this time that Kate had to hold her still for Jess to secure a band of rosebuds on her hair.
The photographer arrived a few minutes later. Frances collected a dramatic straw hat decorated with black ostrich feathers, then herded the entire family off to the drawing room for the indoor pictures. The bride requested the first pose alone with Adam, his lanky frame elegant in a new suit with an Italian label, his mop of black curls severely brushed for once for the photograph, before he rushed off to drive down the lane to the church to do his duty as usher.
Tom Dysart, tall as his son, but with greying hair that had once been flaxen fair as Jess’s shining locks, wore a magnificent dark suit with grey brocade waistcoat, and looked as proud as a peacock as he posed, first with the radiant bride, then with his wife, and finally with all his women folk around him.
“Like a sultan in his harem,” said Jess, laughing.
“And a damn good-looking bunch you are,” said her father fondly.
Later, as Jess waited for the bride with Kate and Fenny in the church porch, she found that her posy was shaking a little in her still tender hand.
“Nervous?” whispered Kate.
“Only of this thing falling out of my hair,” lied Jess, controlling an urge to peer into the church to see if Lorenzo had arrived. But it was true that her new haircut, unlike Kate’s flowing dark curls, had made it difficult to fix the trio of rosebuds attached to a tiny comb. Kate put her posy down on the porch seat, removed the flowers, then anchored them again very firmly into one of the longer gilt strands.
“How’s that?”
“Fine, love, thanks. Here we go. The bride’s arrived.”
Leonie smiled radiantly at her sisters as she glided up the path, then, to the strains of Mendelssohn, began the walk up the aisle on her father’s arm towards the bridegroom and best man at the altar.
Jonah’s tense face relaxed into a smile of such tenderness at the sight of his bride
