IV

Dressing was pure delight. Jessica put on for the second time that

day the yellow silk vest, the long gold silk stockings, and the

narrow gold shoes, but added, this time, yellow silk knickers and a

pair of gold garters.

As she stepped back to look at herself before putting on her frock,

she said earnestly: "I do hope Hugh will like my shape."

"But surely you know he does," said Drusilla reassuring. "He thinks

you're lovely and you are rather to-day."

"But he's never seen me stark," said Jessica simply. "It makes a

difference. I think I'm too boyish-looking. I'd like to be

frightfully feminine just for once."

"But you are in that frock. It really is charming. Do let me get

you into it now. I ought to go and dress now myself. And here's

Mother."

"I'm all ready, darling," said Mrs. Deane. "I just came to help to

finish you off. Where's Marchmont?"

"We sent her away because Drusilla was helping me and I hate a crowd."

"Well, I'll slip your frock on for you, my dear, but Marchmont had

better arrange the veil, I think."

"You do look nice, Mother, in all your elegance. Is Daddy dressed

too?"

"No, not yet; he's fussing a little."

"Oh Mummy, I must see him. Please go and tell him to come up."

"It will do just as well when you're dressed, darling; you really

must get on."

Jessica suddenly balked.

"I can't," she said. "I really can't put my frock on till I see

Daddy. It's an inhibition."

She giggled softly, and Mrs. Deane looked at her in consternation as

she sat down, still in her yellow underclothes and twisted her feet,

like a child, round the legs of the chair.

"My dearest Jessica," she remonstrated. "You must try to be calm or

you will make us all nervous and unhappy."

"Oh, darling, I'm sorry," said Jessica, instantly penitent. "Look,

I'll get dressed as good as gold while you call Daddy."

As she spoke she struggled into her frock and when Mrs. Deane came

back, followed by Mr. Deane, she ran to her father, trailing her

train across the bedroom floor.

"Dearest," she said, "I've been wanting you all morning. I've been

shut in by a conspiracy of women. Quite shocking; I feel as if I

were in a harem."

"Well, you seemed to have a good long time with Hugh, I noticed."

"Oh that was only a minute. Besides he came on business with two

presents. Do I look nice?"

Jessica stepped back as she asked the question and trod on her train.

There was a little ripping sound as it tore away from one shoulder.

"Oh, Jessica, you've torn it. I knew perfectly well something would

happen if you got so excited. Now I'll have to fetch Marchmont to

mend it."

Mrs. Deane hurried away, and Mr. Deane looked guiltily at Jessica.

"I think I'd better get out of this," he said. "It's no place for

me. But just tell me, my dear, you're quite happy, aren't you?"

"Of course I am, Daddy; how do you mean exactly?"

Mr. Deane cleared his throat nervously. "I don't mean anything,

Jessica. Only if you have any doubts or worries or anything, far

better call it off now, than go on with it."

He spoke fiercely, and with his eyes averted. Heedless of her

already torn frock Jessica flung her arms round his neck.

"You're too sweet, darling," she said. "I know it would kill you to

have your daughter jib at the altar. It really is sweet of you to

suggest it. But I'm all right, Daddy. For once in my life I'm quite

sure, with no after-thought and no terrors. Hugh's the proper person

for me to belong to. You'd better go now; they're coming to mend me."

She stood still and quiet while the train was readjusted, and Mrs.

Deane, looking at the steady glow of colour in her cheeks, felt

relieved and contented. It seemed only a moment till Drusilla came

back wearing her gold bridesmaid's dress with a heavy mediæval green

girdle falling in two strands to the ground. She was carrying a

bouquet of tawny chrysanthemums and a sheaf of faintly green speckled

orchids for Jessica.

"Here's your exotic bouquet, my child," she said. "And I think it's

far too macabre for a bride, but I suppose you like it. And here are

the chicken sandwiches," she added as a maid entered with a tray.

Another moment for eating the sandwiches, and then a kiss from her

mother, a kiss from Drusilla, and they were gone to Jessica's

wedding, leaving the house very still, as if all life in it were

suspended.

Jessica came slowly downstairs to the drawing-room to find her

father. He was waiting for her at the door.

"Come in and sit down," he advised, "We ought to give them fully five

minutes start. That will be enough."

He looked anxiously at his watch and appraisingly at Jessica.

"Not nervous, are you dear? You look very nice indeed, and there's

nothing to be nervous about; it's quite plain sailing now."

He patted her hand fussily, and pulled out his watch again. Jessica

smiled.

"No, I'm not," she said. "Not a scrap. But you are. You've looked

at your watch twice in the last minute."

"Nonsense; I'm not at all nervous. I've done all this before. It's

not so very long since I gave Marjorie away, you know."

"But that was different, wasn't it, Daddy?" Jessica insinuated softly.

Mr. Deane cleared his throat.

"Well, of course, Marjorie was much older and then she had been

engaged a long time and--yes, well, it was a little different," he

finished lamely.

"You know quite well what I meant, darling; you're just being

evasive. I meant we were rather special, you and I."

"Now, Jessica, we must be sensible," Mr. Deane looked at his watch.

"It's time we were off; we must allow a little extra in case of a

block. Come along, dear, and be careful with your train. Your

Mother told me to see you didn't disarrange yourself."

"Kiss me once, Daddy, before we go."

"Now be sensible, my dear. Your Mother said I wasn't to let you get

excited."

"Darling, stop quoting Mother at me," said Jessica as she kissed her

father and took his arm to go downstairs.

"Don't let your train touch the step," he adjured her. "There,

that's all right." He stepped into the car.

"Good wishes, Miss Jessica," said the parlourmaid, smiling broadly,

as she shut the door and the car started for the church.

"Hugh's made all the arrangements about tickets and so forth, hasn't

he?" asked Mr. Deane.

"Yes, I think so, Daddy; he's very competent."

"Well, I gave your Mother twenty pounds for you, my dear. Better

have some ready money when you're travelling. She said she would put

it in the purse you were taking away with you."

"That was kind of you. Thank you, darling. I know Hugh is taking

heaps of money, but it's useful to have a little of my own."

"Yes, quite; that was what I thought. Surely the car is going very

slowly; we must not be late." He looked at his watch again and

added, "No, it's all right, still seven minutes to the half-hour and

we're nearly there."

Jessica pressed his hand gently.

"Your Mother will miss you," said Mr. Deane abruptly.

"Not half as much as you will, Daddy. And I'll miss you, too. I

wish you could come with me. Will you write to me to-morrow, or the

next day, or very soon anyhow."

"Certainly, I will; yes, certainly. But you mustn't worry. Just

take things easily; everything is perfectly satisfactory and

straightforward."

"I'm looking forward to the church bit of it, but not to the

reception so much. But truly, I'm not fussed, Daddy."

"That's right. There's no need to be. Hugh's a good boy; if he

weren't I'd never have allowed it."

"Sweetheart, you couldn't have stopped it, not possibly; nothing

could."

"Now, my dear, you must be wise, and don't exaggerate. Here we are.

Be very careful getting out; your Mother said you might get your

train muddy just here."

As Jessica trailed the long gold train up the red carpet, she smiled

at the eager, peering faces on either side and when a hoarse voice at

the top said "Good luck, Miss," she half turned and said, "Thank you,

indeed," in her usual clear steady voice.

A blur of massed faces swam before her eyes as she peeped into the

church from the porch, while her two small pages caught up the loops

of her train, and the bridesmaids formed themselves into a procession.

"Now, Jessica, are you ready?" whispered Mr. Deane urgently, as the

organ burst out into a hymn, and the congregation stood up.

"Yes, darling, let's start. I can't see Hugh from here."

She walked slowly up the long aisle, her face uncovered, her head not

bent in the conventional attitude, a half-smile of anticipation on

her lips.

Then Hugh's face, a deep voice hurrying through the prescribed

service, her father leaving her to slip into a pew, her own voice

more distinct than usual, and Hugh's less distinct, a confused

interlude of kisses and congratulations in the vestry, and once more

she was in the car, this time with Hugh.

"My darling," he said quietly. "My lovely, darling Jessica."

"I'm glad now that I'm Jessica Greene because I love you so."

"Only a little minute, my sweet, and then we'll get away from these

people and be by ourselves."

"I don't mind them. They're all wondering if we'll be happy and if

you'll be good to me, and thinking back to their own wedding-days and

having lumps in their throats."

"I should certainly have a lump in my throat if I were old and dull

and came to your wedding, Jessica. You'll never know how beautiful

you looked coming to me."

They sat blissfully silent till the car stopped, and the parlourmaid

was again at the door smiling brightly as she said:

"Congratulations, Mrs. Greene, please, and to you, too, Sir."

Jessica laughed.

"It does sound funny," she said. "Thank you, Morgan. I suppose we

ought to hurry upstairs and get ready in the drawing-room. Come

along, Hugh; the mob may be on us at any moment."

Three quarters of an hour later after more congratulations, a steady

hum of conversation, and an exhausting atmosphere of heat, feathers

and flowers, Jessica found herself being shepherded up to her room by

Drusilla.

"It all went beautifully," said Drusilla. "Really Jessica, you

looked as nice as you wanted to."

"Oh, Drusilla, I am so glad it's over, and yet I enjoyed every single

minute, and I would like to do it all again, but of course I can't,

ever. What a depressing thought."

"You silly little thing. Why be depressed because you can't have a

second wedding before you've even finished your first. Here, have

some tea. Mother said you must while you were changing."

"The whole of to-day has been nothing but eating queer foods at queer

times, and saying thank you and dressing and undressing. I'm sorry

to take my frock off and leave it behind."

"Never mind. We'll have the neck cut a little lower while you're

away and you can wear it for your first proper dinner-party when you

come home."

"Isn't it odd that I'm not coming home, Drusilla. I mean that I'm

going to another house with Hugh."

"It's beastly. I'll probably get married myself now."

"I don't think you'd better. It would be such a blow for the two

poor dear lambs."

"Jessica, what cheek! Do you mean that I'm to be an elderly spinster

just so that you can leave the parents with a clear conscience."

"I'm not leaving them with a clear conscience. I wish I were, but I

feel awful about Daddy."

"Don't worry. He loves Hugh you know. We're bound to feel damnably

flat when the people go and we realise we're alone, but we'll get

over it all right."

"Please don't get over it entirely, Drusilla. I would like to know

you were missing me. Oh, Marjorie, come in."

Marjorie Sellars kissed Jessica perfunctorily. "Well, it was all

very nice," she said. "I must say I liked all that gold much better

than I expected to. But Mrs. Greene says she would have preferred a

white wedding so I'm afraid you've put your foot in it, Jessica."

"What nonsense," said Drusilla irritably. "It doesn't matter a scrap

whether she approved or not."

"I don't really mind at all." Jessica's voice was carefree. "She

doesn't know much about clothes, so I don't mind and Lavinia who does

know, liked it awfully."

"Lavinia looked very nice, I thought," said Marjorie. "But your

other sister-in-law, Helen, is very plain, isn't she?"

Jessica and Drusilla gasped.

"You're mad, Marjorie," said Jessica quietly. "You must surely see

that she's definitely attractive?"

"Not at all; I always think red hair is a little vulgar," said

Marjorie briskly. "But surely it's time you were dressed, isn't it?

When's your train?"

"Not till 4.45, I think, and I'm just going to dress."

There was a knock at the door and Lavinia came in.

"I won't stay," she began, "I'm sure you don't want me, now, but I

had to come and tell you how nicely it all went. You looked lovely,

Jessica dear."

Jessica grasped her hand.

"How nice you are, Lavinia," she said. "Not a bit like a

sister-in-law. Did you really like it?"

"Of course I did, immensely; so did everyone."

Another knock heralded the entrance of the five grown-up bridesmaids

who filled the room with their shining frocks and huge bouquets.

"Good Lord," said one, "she hasn't begun to dress yet. I say, you

must hurry, Jessica; people are all lining up the stairs to see you

come down, but you'll never get through the mob."

"Well, I shan't hurry down, anyhow," said Jessica serenely, pulling

off her frock. "And I won't be a minute, now, I haven't got to

change my underclothes."

"Here are your stockings and shoes, darling," said Drusilla, and

Lavinia snatched a shoe out of her hand with a little exclamation of

pleasure.

"Oh, I do like these lizards. They're beautifully marked."

"Here, do let me put it on," said Jessica. "And tell me, do you

think it will matter if I stop on the way down to say goodbye to

anyone I specially like. I do want to have a word with Daddy in the

hall."

"You ought to rush down," said another of the bridesmaids, "as if you

were overwhelmed with maidenly confusion and escaping from the

plaudits of the crowd."

"I shan't," said Jessica in a muffled voice as she drew her frock

over her head.

"Well, I think it will look nice if she goes slowly," commented a

third. "And it's a lovely going-away frock."

"Now give me my hat," said Jessica, just as two quiet knocks sounded

on the door. Her face flamed. "There's Hugh," she said. "All go

away now; I'll be down in a minute. Good bye, my dears, and thank

you all for being my bridesmaids."

"Good-bye and good luck, Jessica," said Marjorie, crisply, following

the shining flock. "Good-bye, Jessica, dear, have a lovely

honeymoon," said Lavinia, and kissed Hugh as he stood embarrassed in

the doorway.

"Don't go, Drusilla; I haven't said good-bye to you."

Jessica's mouth trembled, but as Hugh came over to her, she smiled at

him and forgot the pain of parting with Drusilla.

"I'm ready," she said. "Shall we go now, Hugh? Take my hand and

let's go slowly. I hate the way they push and run sometimes."

Drusilla went in front to clear a passage, and Hugh and Jessica

followed slowly down, saying: "Good-bye, Good-bye--Thank you--It's

been lovely--Good-bye--Yes, we've really enjoyed it

ourselves--Good-bye and thank you."

Mr. and Mrs. Rodney Greene were standing on the first landing.

Jessica stopped to kiss them.

"Good-bye," she said. "I'll keep Hugh happy," and went on downstairs.

When she met Mrs. Deane a little lower down the pause was longer.

"Is Daddy at the front door?" she asked.

"Yes, darling, he's waiting for you."

"Good-bye, Mother; write to me lots and don't be depressed."

"Of course, I won't, dear child. Good-bye, Hugh; take care of her."

Another kiss and they started down again. The hall was crowded but

Drusilla forged steadily on in front and suddenly Jessica saw her

father on the top step. Dropping Hugh's hand she ran to him and

clung round his neck.

"I hate leaving you. I wish you could come too," she whispered.

"Keep on thinking of me all the time, Daddy."

"Be happy," said Mr. Deane. "Have a happy time and don't bother

about us. We'll miss you, but we'll manage all right. Where's Hugh

got to?"

"I'm here, sir," Hugh answered happily, elbowing his friends to one

side and gaining a foothold on the top step. "Good-bye, and thank

you. I'll take care of Jessica."

"Good-bye, Hugh; you're all right. And now good-bye, my darling

girl."

Mr. Deane helped her into the car, and Hugh jumped in beside her, but

just before they started Jessica leaned out of the window and kissed

her father again.

"I do love you, Daddy," she said. "And I am so happy."

"Splendid," said Mr. Deane, stoutly. "Splendid. Good luck to you

both."

He stood on the kerb as the car moved away, the steps behind him

crowded with waving guests, and then turned and went smiling into the

house, answering questions, laughing and joking. But he was

conscious of a keen and biting pain when he remembered that the first

nineteen years of Jessica's life had gone like a leaf before the

wind, and at their next meeting she would be no longer Jessica,

daughter of Anthony Deane, but Jessica, wife of Hugh Beckett Greene.