His Spoilt Lady by Vanessa Brooks Page B

front of the mirror, the
voluminous dress and petticoats rustling pleasingly as she
moved.
    “My roses
please, Lottie.”
    Handing Linnett
her bouquet of the palest pink and cream roses, bound up in creamy
satin ribbon to match her dress, Lottie said with tears in her
eyes, “Miss Linnett, may I say that I hope you’ll be very
happy.”
    “Why, thank
you, Lottie.”
    Linnett leaned
forward and kissed her little maid’s warm, pink cheek. Lottie took
out a handkerchief and blew hard. Linnett patted her shoulder and,
taking a deep breath, turned and walked to the door.
    Sir Thomas
Wainwright was pacing about downstairs. Wandering from his study
into the hall and back again, he happened to be in the hall as
Linnett descended the stairs. Hearing a faint rustling of skirts,
he glanced up the staircase, and his breath caught in his throat as
he watched his beautiful, beloved daughter slowly make her way down
the curved stairway. She looked for a moment just as his dear
Arabella had on their wedding day those many years ago.
    He wiped a tear
from his eye and blew his nose loudly. How could he bear to part
with his enchanting daughter, his little green-eyed puss? The last
link, it seemed, with his darling Arabella. He had put forward
Linnett’s suggestion that she remain with him while John returned
to the colonies. John had kindly but firmly refused to consider the
idea. Truth be told, Sir Thomas would not have respected John had
he agreed to Linnett’s plan. A man should have his wife beside him,
why else take a wife? However, he knew he would miss Linnett’s
presence dreadfully, but at least he felt assured that she would be
cared for when his time came.
    Linnett stepped
down from the last stair and stood in front of her father. He
placed his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length,
studying her, and he smiled down at her and nodded. He then took
her into his arms and gently rocked her.
    “Papa?” Linnett
queried.
    “My dearest
child, a child no longer, you looked so like your dear mother
coming down those stairs. You look beautiful, puss. You will make
John a good wife, I know. He is my own choice of husband for you
and I am sure he will make you happy dearest, so do be kind to him,
and he will be kind to you. Now, come along, t’wouldn’t do to be
late for your own wedding!” He kissed her forehead and drew her
towards the entrance.
    Outside, an
open-topped carriage awaited, festooned with cream and pale pink
ribbons. The air was still damp from the earlier rain, and droplets
of water sparkled in the weak sunlight. Linnett climbed up into the
carriage in a daze. She gazed about her, suddenly acutely aware of
the minutest detail, the way the hairs on her father’s wrist stood
up, curling at the cuff of his sleeve as he placed his hand on the
carriage door, the rainbow of colours in each tiny droplet of
moisture standing out on the surface of the carriage and the
criss-cross hairline scratches on the leather seats inside the
coach.
    In next to no
time, they had arrived at the chapel in the estate grounds. The
little church seemed packed with people, but in actual fact, there
were only around fifty or so people gathered inside. The chapel was
rarely as full as this; usually only the estate workers and house
staff joined the family for services on a Sunday. Today, most of
those people were there plus some other local folk such as the
doctor, who had seen Linnett through all her childhood ailments,
and her old governess Miss Spires, now retired and living with her
sister in Portsmouth. Of course Charles and his mother came,
together with Nancy, who was accompanied by her parents. A brace of
Sir Thomas’s business friends had also been invited. On John’s
side, only a captain from one of his ships and his wife were there.
John’s lawyer stood as his best man.
    Linnett seemed
to float down the aisle in a dream-like state. Dust motes hung
suspended in the stream of refracted light from the