most loved to see, her own darling Ulysses, his thoughtful eyes and stubborn mouth. “I will wear this every day of my life,” she vowed, and then she hurried off without kissing him, for she had already tempted fate enough.
The clock on the mantelpiece struck eight o’clock as Papa offered Julia his arm and escorted her into the drawing room, his face stoic as he placed her hand in Ulys’s. Mr. and Mrs. Grant’s refusal to attend the wedding had bolstered his own objections to the match, but the previous night, after reminding Julia that even at that late hour she could still change her mind, he sighed in resignation and announced his wedding gift—sixty acres of uncleared land about a mile north of White Haven, with the promise of one thousand dollars to stock it. “Now when that soldier tires of dragging you from post to post,” Papa had told her gruffly, “you’ll have land of your own not far from home to settle on.”
Reverend Linn conducted the ceremony, which was mercifully brief, but Julia did not become tearful until she spoke her vows and heard Papa clear his throat, overcome with emotion. Then Ulys kissed her, and the minister pronounced them married, and all at once they were surrounded by well-wishers, caught up in embraces and basking in the joy of the smiling, happy throng.
The rain had subsided and the windows were thrown open to welcome in the cool night air, but all passed as a blur of merriment to Julia—the congratulations and good wishes from all and sundry; the parlor table laden with ices, fruits, and other delicacies; the festive supper; the merry music; the laughter that broke out when two of her bridesmaids could not resist the inspiration to dance and waltzed together around the crowded drawing room.
It was a simple, happy, poignant wedding, and after the guests departed and even family bade them good night, the newlyweds stole away, hand in hand, to Julia’s bedchamber, which Nell and Emma had lovingly decorated with fragrant blossoms and twining ivy, transforming the room into a romantic nuptial bower.
“You are as lovely to me as you were that day four years ago when I first glimpsed you on the porch at White Haven,” Ulys murmured after Jule had helped Julia into her nightgown and had noiselessly departed. “You’ll always bloom forever young and beautiful in my eyes.”
“And you are even more handsome and beloved to me tonight than you were then.” Julia glowed from his words, and from his touch, and from her certainty that Ulys truly did find her beautiful in all her plainness, that he saw her with the rare vision of true love, and that in his devotion to her, he always would.
• • •
In the morning, Jule rapped softly on the door of the bridal chamber and waited for Julia’s cheerful summons before entering. She was relieved to see that Captain Grant was already up and dressed, or nearly so; he sat in a chair by the window pulling on his socks and chatting with his bride, who sat in the middle of the bed in her nightgown, hugging her knees to her chest and beaming.
Their abundant happiness made Jule all the more regretful that she had too long deferred her own. Four years had passed since Julia had accepted her lieutenant’s proposal, four years Jule and Gabriel could have been together if Jule had not constantly feared she would be suddenly and without warning snatched from his side. And now to learn that she would not be leaving St. Louis and White Haven for years yet, if at all—
She was determined not to waste a single precious day more.
Captain Grant stepped from the room while Jule dressed Julia for her wedding trip, and when Julia was ready, Jule watched from the top of the stairs as she went down to breakfast on her husband’s arm, blushing and smiling. Jule quickly finished packing the last of Julia’s bags and carried them downstairs and outside, where Gabriel waited with the carriage.
Before they could wish each other a fond good
The clock on the mantelpiece struck eight o’clock as Papa offered Julia his arm and escorted her into the drawing room, his face stoic as he placed her hand in Ulys’s. Mr. and Mrs. Grant’s refusal to attend the wedding had bolstered his own objections to the match, but the previous night, after reminding Julia that even at that late hour she could still change her mind, he sighed in resignation and announced his wedding gift—sixty acres of uncleared land about a mile north of White Haven, with the promise of one thousand dollars to stock it. “Now when that soldier tires of dragging you from post to post,” Papa had told her gruffly, “you’ll have land of your own not far from home to settle on.”
Reverend Linn conducted the ceremony, which was mercifully brief, but Julia did not become tearful until she spoke her vows and heard Papa clear his throat, overcome with emotion. Then Ulys kissed her, and the minister pronounced them married, and all at once they were surrounded by well-wishers, caught up in embraces and basking in the joy of the smiling, happy throng.
The rain had subsided and the windows were thrown open to welcome in the cool night air, but all passed as a blur of merriment to Julia—the congratulations and good wishes from all and sundry; the parlor table laden with ices, fruits, and other delicacies; the festive supper; the merry music; the laughter that broke out when two of her bridesmaids could not resist the inspiration to dance and waltzed together around the crowded drawing room.
It was a simple, happy, poignant wedding, and after the guests departed and even family bade them good night, the newlyweds stole away, hand in hand, to Julia’s bedchamber, which Nell and Emma had lovingly decorated with fragrant blossoms and twining ivy, transforming the room into a romantic nuptial bower.
“You are as lovely to me as you were that day four years ago when I first glimpsed you on the porch at White Haven,” Ulys murmured after Jule had helped Julia into her nightgown and had noiselessly departed. “You’ll always bloom forever young and beautiful in my eyes.”
“And you are even more handsome and beloved to me tonight than you were then.” Julia glowed from his words, and from his touch, and from her certainty that Ulys truly did find her beautiful in all her plainness, that he saw her with the rare vision of true love, and that in his devotion to her, he always would.
• • •
In the morning, Jule rapped softly on the door of the bridal chamber and waited for Julia’s cheerful summons before entering. She was relieved to see that Captain Grant was already up and dressed, or nearly so; he sat in a chair by the window pulling on his socks and chatting with his bride, who sat in the middle of the bed in her nightgown, hugging her knees to her chest and beaming.
Their abundant happiness made Jule all the more regretful that she had too long deferred her own. Four years had passed since Julia had accepted her lieutenant’s proposal, four years Jule and Gabriel could have been together if Jule had not constantly feared she would be suddenly and without warning snatched from his side. And now to learn that she would not be leaving St. Louis and White Haven for years yet, if at all—
She was determined not to waste a single precious day more.
Captain Grant stepped from the room while Jule dressed Julia for her wedding trip, and when Julia was ready, Jule watched from the top of the stairs as she went down to breakfast on her husband’s arm, blushing and smiling. Jule quickly finished packing the last of Julia’s bags and carried them downstairs and outside, where Gabriel waited with the carriage.
Before they could wish each other a fond good
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