To Marry a Prince

Chapter 25

‘The Day!’ – Morning Times

It was the morning of Bella’s wedding day. In the courtyard of the Palace, a golden coach awaited the new Royal bride. In her borrowed boudoir in the Palace, she sat in a gold-embroidered cream dress, with flowing mediaeval sleeves. Brilliant sunlight shone into the window, illuminating a tall mirror.

Janet Bray stood back and smiled dreamily. ‘You’re beautiful, my darling. Just like the woman in your picture. Happy the bride the sun shines on.’

Bella would have been just as happy if she had been stomping up the hill in Wellington boots to marry her Richard in the pouring rain in front of their tower. But she didn’t say so.

In fact she didn’t say anything at all. Because she thought she was hearing something that should have been impossible. A scraping at the brickwork, a sharp and probably profane exclamation, the rending sound of a creeper being ripped from a wall.

No, she told herself, it was her imagination. It couldn’t be happening. Not on her wedding day. Not with everything timed to a nanosecond. The Prince of Wales, in scarlet regimentals and a gleaming sword, would be getting ready to go to the Cathedral even now.

‘I so want you to be happy, my love. Even Finn says you two were born to be together.’

‘Yes, I know, Ma. He said the same to me. Mind you, he’s impressed that Richard has read all his books. Finn says it’s more than he has.’

Janet looked momentarily shocked. ‘Finn hasn’t read his own books? No!’

‘He puts them on tape and then forgets about ’em apparently.’

Bella tried to shift her position without actually craning round her mother too obviously. Was it possible that a face had just bobbed up outside the window?

No, of course not. It had to be her imagination.

Janet half turned to look out.

Bella said hurriedly, ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am to Kevin for walking me down the aisle.’

Janet beamed and faced her again. ‘He was so touched that you wanted him to do it.’

Bella breathed out in relief. ‘He’s a wonderful man. I … oh my God!’ she cried, jumping to her feet.

‘Darling, what is it? Are you nervous? Tell me?’

‘Yes. No. I don’t know,’ said Bella, who had definitely seen the face bob up, a hand wave – in greeting? Desperation? – and both of them disappear again.

There had been no loud cry and thud of a falling body. So he was still there.

‘No need to be. I remember my own wedding…’

Bella passed her options under rapid review. She could call in someone to help now. Richard wouldn’t like that, unless he was hanging on by a fingernail. No, come to think of it, he would particularly dislike it if he was hanging on by a fingernail. So calling for help wasn’t an option either way.

In which case, she had to get rid of her mother.

‘And two lovely children,’ finished Janet, misty-eyed.

Bella hugged her, said she was wonderful, and walked her backwards to the door.

‘Um, yes, Mother. Do you – do you think you could leave me on my own for a bit now? I want to think. Yes, that’s right. I want to be alone with my thoughts. It’s such a big step, marriage.’

‘Of course, love.’

As soon as the door had closed behind her, Bella flew to the window and flung the sash up.

‘Are you mad?’ she scolded, leaning out to find her beloved hooked on to the stone window sill and swinging gently in the breeze.

He grinned up at her. His face was dirty and he looked as happy as a schoolboy. ‘Nope. Pretty good mood actually.’

‘Stay right there.’

‘Aren’t you going to let me in?’

‘Not until I’ve protected myself,’ said Bella grimly.

She was absolutely not going to mention bad luck with him hanging outside her third storey window. She was not even going to think about it. On the other hand, she was not taking any chances either. This bridegroom was not going to get a glimpse of the wedding dress until the appointed hour, just in case. She pulled the pretty chintz coverlet off the bed and wrapped it round herself.

‘OK then, Spiderman, in you come.’ She leaned over the window sill and helped him haul himself into the room.

Once he was there, she breathed again. Though she did not let him see her anxiety. You can’t tell someone they should be free to try any dangerous stunt they feel like and then freak out when they do, she thought. Damn it!

She still couldn’t stop herself saying, ‘You could have killed yourself.’

‘Nah,’ said Prince Richard, dull, stuffy, conscientious, dutiful, unemotional Prince Richard. He stamped some brick dust and paint over the priceless Aubusson and tidied his climbing axe away neatly. ‘I told you. I’ve been looking at this wall for ages, my love. I knew I could do it.’

‘But why today?’ she wailed, backing away from him, chintz clutched to her bosom.

He leaned forward and kissed her. ‘Because today I’m marrying you. Today I can do anything.’

‘I’m flattered.’

‘No, you’re not,’ he said seriously. ‘You know me and I know you and we both know we’re stronger together than we’ll ever be apart. And we’ll have a hell of a lot more fun too.’

‘I’ll hold you to that,’ said Bella, unbearably moved and absolutely determined not to cry and mess up the work of art that was her make-up. ‘But if you get dust on my wedding dress, I will kill you. After all the effort it cost. And you still owe me a limerick, you waster.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Glad you mentioned that. Here it is.’ And from inside his climbing suit he produced a neat piece of parchment with the five-line verse written out in a hand that would not have shamed Shakespeare. ‘Enjoy. See you in church.’

‘Cathedral,’ she shouted after him.

But he had already shut the door behind him.

So she sat down in front of the mirror and looked at herself, in her fairytale dress, with her fairytale tiara and the bouquet of soft summer flowers, with the trails of ivy that Richard had insisted on. And then she looked at the ring he had designed for her. And read his poem.

And blushed.

And laughed.

And blushed and read it again.

And dabbed, terribly, terribly carefully at the corner of her eyes.

Then picked up her lovely skirts and went to promise her love everything she had to give.