CHAPTER35
Phoebe filled the printing press with ink and checked that the paper was feeding correctly before she pulled the handle and set it to work once again. As the machine began to press the letters into the paper, she marveled once more at its capabilities. It was one thing to provide your copy to a printer and pick up the papers once they were prepared. It was quite another to watch the magic happen in front of your own eyes.
The door — closed to prevent as much noise as possible from reaching the writers — creaked open behind her, and Phoebe turned to find Rhoda had entered the room.
“You shouldn’t have to worry about this now,” Rhoda admonished her, though she wore a smile as she did so. “You have much more pressing matters at hand.”
“Is something amiss?” Phoebe asked, turning to Rhoda now, worried.
“No,” Rhoda said with a laugh, “But I believe your mother-in-law and your aunt await you at Madame Boudreau’s.”
“Oh no, I’m late!” Phoebe exclaimed and raced to the door, but not before turning back to Rhoda. “You will look after the printing today?”
“Of course!” Rhoda said, shooing her hands toward the door. “Now go!”
Phoebe found her bonnet and raced out the door, though she was but halfway down the street when she remembered that Nancy was within, and realized that she was much too far to walk. Nancy had accompanied her today for the visit to the modiste’s and the carriage was awaiting them down the street, so as to not draw attention to their location.
“Damn,” Phoebe said, returned, and then encouraged the driver to hurry to the shop.
Phoebe raced in the door, out of breath when she arrived, but Jeffrey’s mother either didn’t notice or didn’t much care. Today was the final fitting of Phoebe’s dress. The wedding would take place in just a few days, this very Saturday. Jeffrey had felt it best not to wait overly long, to which Phoebe certainly agreed. Of course, there had been much to work out, what with the marriage contract as well as the entire situation with Ambrose, but somehow, it had all gone according to plan.
Phoebe was both shocked and pleased to walk in the door and find not only Aunt Aurelia and Jeffrey’s mother, but also his four sisters and her three closest friends. Madame Boudreau bustled around them all with a long-practiced efficiency, and Phoebe was not quite sure how to express her thankfulness to have such women in her life.
“I cannot believe you are all here!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, we wouldn’t miss it,” said Sarah with a smile.
“Besides, we have to make sure you do not find out Jeffrey’s true personality and leave him before you are married!” Rebecca exclaimed, and Phoebe didn’t miss the elbow Viola nudged into her side. Phoebe simply laughed.
“Fortunately I believe I have come to know all sides of him and will marry him anyway,” she quipped, and Lady Berkley wore a look of such happiness that Phoebe nearly started crying at that moment. Goodness, when had she become such an emotional mess? She hurriedly found Madame Boudreau in order to try on the dress before she showed too much emotion before the lot of them.
And when she came out and turned in front of them, the lengths of cream satin swirling around her, the jewels on the dress glittering in the light, she could only hope that Jeffrey would feel as impressed as these ladies did, judging by the looks on their faces. She grinned at them all, wondering how she had ever gotten so lucky.
* * *
One week later
St. George’s, Hanover Square
Phoebe breathed deeplyas she waited in the vestibule at the back of St. George’s. People filled the pews before her, most of them faces she had seen in passing but didn’t actually know well at all. They had all come to see the Marquess of Berkley marry a woman they had hardly heard of at all until recently — Lady Phoebe Winters. She had no real connections, hardly any family to speak of, and, to most, was as much of a mystery as the identity of the publisher ofThe Women’s Weekly.
Two lives, she mused, and yet they were one and the same as far as Jeffrey was concerned, and he was all that mattered.
He was right down the aisle, she knew, and yet he was too far for her to see him, and so instead she focused for a moment on the stained glass, under which she knew he would be standing. Despite all the people filling the pews ahead of her and the man who waited for her at the end of the aisle, Phoebe had never felt quite so alone. She looked up above her to the rafters of the church, to the windows emitting daylight at the very top, and closed her eyes as she felt her parents’ presence beside her, imagined her father was with her, holding onto her arm. Suddenly her arm was lifted, interlocked with another, and Phoebe's eyes flew open to find Aurelia beside her.
“Aunt Aurelia!” she exclaimed. “I thought you would be at the front of the church, in the very best seat.”
“Well, I could not allow you to walk all that way alone now, could I? Particularly in all those layers of fabric. What if you tripped?”
She smiled gently and squeezed Phoebe’s arm softly.
“Your parents would be ever so proud of you,” she said. “You are marrying a handsome marquess, true, but what they would really be thankful for is the fact that you are marrying for love, and that this man will make you happy for the rest of your days.”
“Yes,” Phoebe said softly. “Yes, he will. Thank you, Aunt Aurelia, for everything.”
“That's not necessary. I love you as my own, and always will,” Aurelia responded, tears forming in her eyes, though she hastily blinked them away. “Now, we best get moving or else they’ll all think you’ve jilted him.”
And with that, she urged Phoebe forward, and they began the long walk to the altar. There were quite a few murmurings, of course, that Phoebe was escorted by her aunt, but she cared not at all. This was her life, and her wedding, and what mattered was the man standing at the end of this journey. Jeffrey was as handsome as ever, tall, broad, and imposing, his blond hair swept back immaculately from his hard, chiseled face. But then his eyes found Phoebe’s as she neared, and his entire countenance softened, his lips curling upward ever so slightly, his eyes becoming a lighter shade, less harsh as love filled them. And when a lock fell out of his perfectly coiffed hair and onto his forehead, any nerves which remained left her and she returned his grin. For she knew the man that so many didn’t — the man who was willing to accept her for who she was, for what her passions were, who overlooked her own many faults and loved her anyway.