The dress was being carefully laid over a chair, and Susanne's lips curved in a tender smile as she slipped out of her skirt and sweater. Her violet eyes, wide and expressive and of quite extraordinary beauty, were glowing with happiness.
'The last fitting,' commented her friend, Gwen, as she watched the dressmaker take up the delectable white creation and put it over Susanne's head. It dropped in swirling folds about her slender frame, and when the bodice was fastened with the tiny pearl buttons running all down the back its flattering effect brought a little gasp from Gwen. Tender curves were accentuated; a tiny waist seemed tinier still.
'It's fantastic,' breathed Gwen, moving to bring herself right in front of her friend. Susanne was too full to speak; she was dreaming in any case… of the wonderful man who was her bridegroom-to-be. Only three weeks… to paradise.
'And now yours, miss,' from the dressmaker a short while later. 'I'm sorry the other bridesmaid couldn't manage to be here. Perhaps,' she suggested, turning to Susanne, 'you could ask her to come along to my house? I'm rather busy and have difficulty in finding the time for all that's to be done.'
'That's the penalty of being the best dressmaker in Dorset,' said Gwen as she prepared to put on the coral-coloured creation that was lying across the arm of another chair. 'You're so much in demand you ought to have apprentices.'
'Never,' stated Estelle in firm decisive tones. 'No apprentice could learn the trade as I know it. They're all too slipshod these days; and anyway, who wants to sit for hours sewing by hand?'
'Need you do so much by hand, Estelle?' Susanne was examining her chief bridesmaid's dress from all angles as she moved around her.
'It's my way, Miss Beaumont. Perhaps I'm old-fashioned, but I wouldn't be happy doing everything on a machine. The hems, now: nothing looks so cheap and nasty as a hem done on a sewing-machine!'
'I'm so glad I managed to get you.' Susanne smiled. 'I'd not have been happy with anyone else.'
***
The dressmaker was busy with pins, and Susanne's thoughts drifted to her fiancé, Richard Merridew, world-famous fashion photographer, to whom she would be married in three weeks' time.
She had first met Richard through his brother, Nick. An author who lived locally, Nick was fast becoming famous, his first and second novels each having sold over a million copies in the United States alone. He was now on his third, and it was almost by chance that he and Susanne had become friends, a circumstance which was to lead to Susanne's engagement to his handsome brother, Richard. Nick had come into the library at Dorchester, where Susanne worked as a librarian, to seek reference books, and somehow Susanne had found herself offering to help in the matter of the intensive research which was necessary. Excited and honoured that he should agree, she had willingly given up much of her spare time and had enjoyed every single moment of it. Nick had taken her out to a lunch or two, and the odd dinner-more as gestures of thanks, she realised, than the desire for her company, since Nick was not a woman's man. His novels were geared to the tastes of men, and to Susanne his whole outlook seemed to be male orientated. At thirty-one Nick seemed all set for bachelordom, and his brother had once remarked to Susanne,
'I despair of Nick; he seems not to be aware of his sex-appeal. Don't you find him attractive?'
'Very,' she had answered, though casually, for from the moment Nick had introduced her to his brother she had known that Richard was the man for her.
To her dismay, however, Richard had seemed only to be dallying with her, after having cleverly made her fall in love with him.
'Come live with me and be my love,' he had quoted one evening when they were dining and wining by candlelight. 'You and I need each other, Susanne, my sweet. I have a super penthouse in Mayfair where we could bed down cosily. I'd keep my home here, in Bridport, but you would obviously be willing to give up your flat….' His voice had tailed off to silence as he noticed her expression. Every vestige of colour had drained from her face, and she looked almost physically ill. 'Whatever is it?' he had inquired wonderingly, and for a long moment she could only stare at him dumbly, while filtering her mind were several subtly expressed hints that had come from his brother. Yes, she had agreed with Nick that Richard was a womaniser, but now-she had confidently assured Nick-he had found the right girl at last.
'So that-that is all y-you want me for?' she had managed to say, pressing a hand to a heart that seemed to be dying, slowly and in agonising pain. How she loved him!-worshipped him… and this was all he thought of her. She was one of many, to be taken and then cast off. Dreams were shattered, and she felt she would never recover. She had given him to understand that her goodnight was in fact goodbye, and as he stood at her door, she had turned from him and stumbled, groping her way into her flat, blinded by tears of utter despair and hopelessness.
She did not know how she managed to get to the library the following morning but she did, and later Nick had come in to ask for more help. She had stared at him, comparing his appearance with that of his brother. Very dark, with features that might have come from Latin ancestry, Nick was as unlike Richard as any brother could be. Aquiline features with stern mouth and jaw, a straight classical nose and eyes as black as onyx. His brows were straight, his forehead clear but with a widow's peak cutting into it; his hair, jet black, was strong and straight but for the quiff at the front, which was definitely inclined to wave. Sometimes it fell onto his forehead and was most attractive to Susanne, who from the very first had in some inexplicable way been affected by his dark attraction.
But it was his brother Richard who had stolen her heart. How well she remembered that first meeting, on the day she had taken a filled notebook to Nick's home, an attractive Victorian house set in an acre of charming grounds in the enchanting little hamlet of West Milton, half an hour or so by car from the county town of Dorchester where Susanne worked. Richard had been there, it being a Sunday, and the moment he had set eyes on Susanne he had wanted to photograph her classical beauty. Although possessed of a fair share of confidence, Susanne had found herself overwhelmed by Richard's magnetism, and in no time at all she had been swept off her feet.
She had suspected, as the weeks went by, that Nick was worried about her, and when she and Richard had been keeping company for about two months Nick had begun to make subtle hints-although Susanne knew he was having the greatest difficulty in submitting advice for her to 'take care.' He obviously disliked the idea of being disloyal to Richard, but at the same time he was troubled about Susanne, and one day he had laid aside all tact and said bluntly,
'Be careful, Susanne, for heaven's sake. I've tried to warn you-Richard's had dozens of girls and dallied with them all. At the age of thirty-six, he's still single, having fought shy of marriage for many years. He's still heart and fancy free.'
'Not heart free anymore,' Susanne had corrected confidently. 'He loves me, Nick; he said so and I believe him. You will see, he'll soon be asking me to marry him.'
It had been less than a week after this that disillusionment had dropped into the silver cloud of Susanne's happiness. After nine weeks of sunshine all was suddenly black. Richard's suggestion that he and she become lovers had brought the dream and desire to an abrupt end, and Susanne had never felt the need of comfort more than on that morning when Nick had appeared in the library-the morning after the break with Richard. She had taken in Nick's dark and attractive features, but those of his brother had become superimposed, so that she was seeing Richard's rugged good looks and laughing blue eyes, the curving mid-brown eyebrows that matched the colour of his hair, the sensuous mouth and strong, masculine jaw.
Swift to see that she was distressed, Nick had said, only a few moments after entering the library,
'What's wrong, Susanne?'
'Nothing.' It was the natural answer and meant in fact that she craved a sympathetic ear.
'Can you get away?' said Nick, his dark eyes perceptive. He glanced around, looking for the Chief Librarian. 'Where's Mr. Cross field?'
'In his office.'
'I'll have a word with him.' Nick's manner was authoritative and managing. He went off and within a moment or two he was back. Five minutes after entering the library he was ushering Susanne through the main door and into the sunlit street. Just along on the other side was the Judge Jeffreys Restaurant, where Nick sat listening to her choking accents as the whole story tumbled out. She now recalled-as she stood watching Gwen's dress being pinned up to the correct length-how stern Nick's face had become, the compression of his mouth and the wrathful glimmer in those onyx-dark eyes. The high bones of his cheeks seemed to be accentuated because the skin was so stretched that the hollows had become visible beneath them; and along the sides of his mouth threads of crimson had slowly been filtering the deep bronze of his skin. Formidable, almost murderous his appearance, and she recalled her own shuddering reaction, feeling she would never dare to cross a man like Nick. He had taken her to his home, given her a cup of strong coffee and disappeared into his study; she guessed it was to phone his brother.
***
'That seems to be okay.' Estelle's quiet voice brought Susanne's reflections to an end, and she turned her attention to her friend, who was admiring herself before the long oval mirror that stood in the corner of the bedroom.
'It looks lovely!' Happiness shone from Susanne's eyes, and they were glowing even brighter a few hours later, when she stepped from the door of her apartment and smiled up into Richard's face.
'As beautiful as ever!' he exclaimed, kissing her before handing her into his car. 'How tedious these last few weeks are, my darling.'
She laughed, heart singing.
It was as they were approaching the restaurant where they were to dine that Richard asked her why she was so quiet.
'I was thinking of the miracle,' she admitted frankly. 'I believed I'd lost you for ever….' She felt she would never forget the wonderful day when Richard, contrite and pleading, had come to ask to be taken back. He couldn't live without her, he had said, and so he wanted to marry her.
'Miracle?' he repeated, puzzled.
'Of your coming back to me,' she returned seriously. 'I loved you so much,' she added, unable to suppress the little catch in her voice.
'I was a fool-thinking I was content with my bachelor way of life-but I was wrong, for you, my little temptress, had already stolen my heart so there was no other way out of my predicament than to marry you, and so here we are, with only three weeks to go before you belong to me.' He paused and when he spoke again his voice was almost harsh. 'Nick wasn't pleased, and I guess he tried to warn you, advise you not to marry me?'
'I-he-'
'Don't bother to deny it, Susanne. What did you say to him?'
She hesitated a moment but then said,
'I told him I loved you dearly and that my life would never be anything without you. I said that nothing would stop me marrying you-nothing.' They were in the restaurant car park now, and Richard had found a place in a tree-darkened spot. He had earlier told her he had ordered a secluded table in a corner, but now, as he put his arms about her, he said, his lips touching her cheek, 'I don't think our table's secluded enough for kissing so we'll have a few minutes here.' Possessively he took her lips beneath his own; she wound her arms about his neck and almost wished they weren't going in for dinner after all, for she could have stayed here, in the seclusion, and let him make love to her in his customary passionate way. But fifteen minutes later she was facing him across a candlelit table where the amber glow lent an added allure to her beauty, and she was thinking, 'This man will soon be my husband….'
***
A week to the wedding, and she knew it would be the longest she had ever spent in her life. She was taking the two bridesmaids out to dinner at the Royal, and as she dressed she could not keep her mind off another time when she would be dressing-in that white creation of lace and organza, with a veil on her pale gold hair, a small posy of orchids in her hands….
Her day-her lovely, lovely day, to be remembered for the rest of her life. How proud she would be of her handsome bridegroom as she made her vows. His ring would stay on her finger forever.
'Oh, lord!' she exclaimed, coming out of her dream, 'it's already half past seven!'
The other two were already in the hotel lounge, drinking aperitifs, and she looked apologetic as she joined them.
'Sorry-'
'You were trying on your wedding-dress,' accused Gwen. 'Well, you shouldn't. You know exactly what it looks like-'
'I wasn't actually trying it on,' Susanne broke in with a little deprecating laugh. 'But in my imagination I was.'
'What can I get you, madam?' The waiter was at her elbow as she sat down, and she ordered a sherry.
'I've brought you something blue,' Gwen said and dug into her handbag for a tiny square of embroidered lace. 'A handkerchief I bought in Madeira.' She handed it over; Susanne smiled and put it away.
'My offering's something borrowed,' Kathleen said and passed Susanne an envelope.
'Pearls,' smiled Susanne as she brought the small string from the unsealed envelope. 'Oh, they're lovely! They were your grandmother's; I remember your telling me once. I'll take very good care of them….' Her voice trailed off as she caught Gwen's frowning expression. Kathleen was unaware of it as her attention was caught by something going on at another table. Gwen was so superstitious that Susanne had no difficulty in making an intelligent guess at what was running through her mind:
'Pearls for tears….'
Susanne bit her lip, faintly cross with her friend for marring this moment, which Kathleen had meant to be one of pleasure, for Susanne had greatly admired the pearls and especially the beautiful diamond clasp.
The sherry came, but Susanne could not enjoy it for a weight had settled on her stomach. Silly to be like this all because of silly superstitions which never meant anything anyway! Susanne determinedly thrust the matter out of her mind, and as Kathleen turned at that moment with some comment on her lips the vague and nebulous fears dissolved completely.
'Dinner is ready when you are,' smiled the waiter about twenty minutes later, and the three girls, all looking slender and pretty in their long dresses, followed him into the restaurant.
'Well, here's to happiness.' Kathleen's grey eyes were wide and sincere as she raised her glass. 'To you, dear Susanne… be happy for always.'
