Every Sherbrooke was present, including the earl of Ashburnham and his family come all the way from Scotland. And, of course, Oliver and Jenny from Kildrummy.
There was no one from Thomas Malcombe’s family, but if anyone remarked upon it, it didn’t get to Meggie’s ears. She, herself, believed it for the best. If William had shown up, she just might have kicked him. As for Thomas’s mother, he’d simply said she was ill and left it at that. He was so very alone, she thought that morning as all her aunts helped her dress in her wedding finery. But that would change.
The Vicarage was filled to capacity. Had there been ladders to the rafters, Thomas thought, there would be folk hanging off those as well. All of the boy cousins were staying with him at Bowden Close.
The Sherbrookes were a very popular family. No, it was more than that. Meggie was the daughter of the town, beloved by its denizens. He thought, as he watched her come closer and closer, that he’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. He smiled when she chanced to look at him.
Meggie didn’t look again at Bishop Arlington. She was staring at the man who would be her husband in not more than fifteen minutes from now.
Organ music swelled, so loud the windows rattled a bit. The air was still, fragrant with flowers, many from the Northcliffe Hall greenhouses, brought to Glenclose-on-Rowan by Uncle Douglas and Aunt Alex. So many people, all of them here to wish her well. She passed by the Winters family and felt a stab of concern. There were no smiles on their faces. Even though her father had told her they accepted that William Malcombe was the father of Melissa’s child, they still couldn’t bring themselves to like Thomas Malcombe.
All her boy cousins were seated in one row; Grayson, she knew, was memorizing everything, later to embroider a rousing tale, probably replete with a congregation that were really demons from some pit in Hell and the demons had sprung open the pit just recently, just for Meggie’s wedding. Leo and Max, both looking faintly worried, and she understood that. Everything was different now that they were all grown up. Now they realized just how many years separated all of them from childhood—her marriage underscored this. She wished she could have stopped a moment and hugged them, reassured them. She wanted to tell them that being a grown-up meant change, something to be desired not feared.
There were James and Jason, looking more beautiful than she did, both of them striving to look as austere and distinguished as their father, who, seated in the row ahead of them, looked every inch the powerful earl. Meggie gave him a big grin, which was returned, and which the twins didn’t see. They might have relaxed a bit if they’d seen that smile. Her aunt Alex gave her a small wave with her gloved hand.
Aunt Sophie and Uncle Ryder were to her left, and what with ten of the Beloved Ones coming to Glenclose-on-Rowan, they occupied an entire row, very tightly. Her uncle Ryder’s brilliant Sherbrooke eyes were still wicked, still so startling a blue, that ladies stopped in the middle of the street and stared at him and grinned like idiots. This behavior Aunt Sophie normally ignored, or poked her oblivious spouse in his ribs to make him stop being so damned delicious to the opposite sex. As for Aunt Sophie, she was solid as a rock, always calm no matter the trouble, no matter the pain.
And her godmother, Aunt Sinjun, sitting beside Uncle Colin, Fletcher and Dahling beside them, Dahling a young matron, married to a Scottish baron from the Highlands near Glen Coe way. Phillip was far away in Greece with the Royal Navy, Uncle Colin had told everyone. Phillip, it seemed, was a cartographer, something most all the male cousins had had to look up in the dictionary. Fletcher was now twelve, as magic with horses as Alec was with racing cats. She remembered so long ago how he had renamed her father’s horse. He spoke to horses and they spoke to him. What would he do when he grew up? Meggie wondered. She thought with a pang of his little sister, Jocelyn, who had died while still very young. Thank God Rory had survived.