Free Jennie About to Be by Elisabeth Ogilvie

she’d made herself. She brought a silver bowl from the cousins, and William and Sylvia sent her her father’s old set of English poets, all in new leather bindings.
    The two young girls were to be Jennie’s bridemaids, and the Hampshire baronet would stand up with Nigel. It would be a quiet wedding, with a breakfast afterward at Brunswick Square. The insignificant Earl without coal mines had been sent an invitation as a courtesy, and being in London he had accepted. It took more than that to confound the Highams, who were not impressed by titles, but Charlotte and Sophie were all of a flutter. A baronet and an earl, too?
    â€œHe’s a harebrained old nincompoop,” said Nigel. “No, I take that back. Any hare is a positive genius compared to my dissipated and decrepit cousin. Let us pray,” he said piously, “that he passes up the wedding breakfast.”
    Except for Sophie and the Highams, Jennie would have no one of her own to see her married. She had a moment of feeling like a virgin being prepared for a sacrificial altar so that her blood would bring in good crops or a total victory over Napoleon.
    In that case , she thought, they will erect a monument to me, something tasteful in marble, with wreaths and urns and great classical maidens halfdraped. The Prince of Wales will place a wreath on their huge feet .
    â€œWhat are you laughing at, Jennie?” Sophie asked. “I came to tell you that Nigel’s here. Isn’t he beautiful? I love William,”she said loyally, “but Nigel’s like Apollo.”
    â€œDon’t tell him,” said Jennie. “There are quite enough women now telling him such things. How he’s going to cut himself down to one woman’s adoration is beyond me.”
    She went along the passage to the stairs, Sophie pattering behind her; Charlotte caught up with them, and the two whispered and chuckled, they had become Best Friends overnight. Sophie was a dark, sturdy child, already developing a bust. Beside her Charlotte looked as evanescent as a snowdrop.
    Nigel had just come from a review in Hyde Park, and he dominated the foyer in his blue, scarlet, and gold. Derwent had escaped Mrs. Coombes and was wearing the black cocked hat with its red and white plumes; he practically disappearedunder it, and the gauntlets nearly reached his shoulders.
    â€œWhy don’t they make boots like yours in my size?” demanded a fierce treble from inside the hat.
    â€œDon’t take offense at this, old man,” said Nigel, “but you’re still a bit short for the household cavalry.” He looked up and saw the girls on the stairs.
    â€œLadies,” he said hollowly, and laid his hand over his heart, “if I was a poetical sort of fella, I’d know exactly what was the thing to say about two bright stars and the moon goddess.”
    â€œI think you do very well as it is,” said Jennie.
    They sat alone in the morning room, drinking coffee on the sofa before the fire, and he told her that he was resigning his commission and going to Scotland to become his older half brother’s factor.
    â€œI was going to take you there anyway for the honeymoon. Spring in the Highlands, what? Jolly! If the weather is fine, that is. It can be deuced bleak in the rain.” He looked worried, and she put her hand on his fresh-colored cheek.
    â€œRain or snow, that needn’t bother us . But is this a sudden decision?”
    â€œSudden, sudden! Ten days ago. Today was my last review.” He took her hand from his cheek and kissed it. “The Mater said I should tell you at once. But I’m a coward, my angel. What if you had your heart set on being a colonel’s lady?”
    â€œOh, Nigel!” She pulled her hand away. “How could you? If that’s what you think of me, perhaps we’re marrying far too soon. We don’t know each other at all.”
    He looked stunned, and she relented, but she was