Lies and Weddings(133)
Thomas turned to Martha. “Might you have an ice pack? Or some frozen peas?”
Arabella regained consciousness as Eden crouched over her. “Arabella, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?”
“Yes. You must…,” Arabella groaned, murmuring indistinctly.
“I’m sorry, what’s that you said?” Eden said, leaning closer.
“I said…you must marry my son!”
Skip Notes
* Francis does not yet realize that he no longer has to retrieve his text messages from his Hotmail account. He also does not realize that there’s such a thing as Wi-Fi at the hotel where he’s staying—the Aman, of course.
IX
PONTE VOTIVO
IL REDENTORE, VENICE ? A FEW DAYS LATER
Once a year, the city of Venice would hold the Festa del Redentore, a feast to give thanks to the end of the plague of 1576. A wooden bridge of barges would be erected across the lagoon from the Zattere to the Chiesa del Santissimo Redentore on the island of Giudecca so that the faithful could make the pilgrimage by foot across the lagoon. Except this evening, Martha had graciously made a hefty donation to the city, allowing the bridge to be temporarily erected for the wedding celebration she was so generously hosting.
As the sun set over the city of water, Lady Beatrice Gresham, with ropes of pearls threaded through her hair, enrobed in an otherworldly oyster-pink Iris van Herpen gown of botanical-inspired pleats that made her appear like a hothouse orchid just beginning to bloom, glided along the bridge on the arm of her father, the Earl of Greshamsbury, who looked especially dapper in his Henry Poole midnight-teal velvet dinner jacket. The Orchestra Filarmonica della Fenice, assembled on a nearby barge, began to play the adagietto from Mahler’s Symphony No. 5 while Gopal Das, looking especially dapper in white tie and tails and a silvery white turban upon which was affixed a ruby-and-diamond brooch left to him by a doting Cabot great-aunt, walked from the other end of the bridge to meet his bride at the center of the lagoon.
As the wedding guests watched from a flotilla of motorboats and gondolas bobbing up and down on the gentle tide, the bride and groom exchanged their vows in a simple ceremony presided over by the long-suffering rector of Greshamsbury, Reverend Caleb Oriel.[*] Eden, standing on the prow of Martha’s motorboat with Rufus by her side, thought it was the most exquisite sight she had ever witnessed. Bea and Gopal Das looked as though they were deities floating on the horizon line against the backdrop of the Doge’s Palace and a sky that was fading from sapphire blue to the palest tangerine.
Immediately following the ceremony, the fleet of boats headed to the Palazzo Gattopardo, where its majestic canal-front bronze doors were opened to receive the guests arriving for the wedding ball. Tall flickering torches surrounded the boat dock just as they had in the time of Marco Polo, and perhaps in homage to the great Venetian explorer, Rosina Leung, clad in a figure-hugging cheongsam of imperial-violet embroidered silk, stood at the threshold of the ballroom just as the wedding guests began to flood in.
“Hiyah, Rosina, you made it! You missed such a beautiful ceremony!” Arabella said as she glided over to her.
“It’s fine, I hate gondolas—they remind me of floating coffins, and I get seasick. Look at you, sexy mother of the bride! That JAR diamond-and-ruby sautoir perfectly matches your classic Valentino red!” Rosina appraised Arabella’s dramatic plunging off-the-shoulder ball gown, which showed off her belle poitrine to full advantage.
“From his final couture collection. I literally had to claw it out of Nati Abascal’s hands. Now, is this one of your cheongsams made from the fabric of Empress Dowager Cixi’s court robes?”
Rosina nodded.
“Incredible! But I do wish you’d stop wearing those fake giant pearls.”
Rosina leaned in and whispered, “Let me tell you a secret, Arabella. I don’t wear fake jewels. Ever.”
Arabella raised an eyebrow in surprise, before she was suddenly caught off guard by yet another surprise at the other end of the room. “I can’t believe my eyes. Is that my brother talking to Nicolai Chalamet-Chaude?”
“He insisted on coming along with my boys. They all want to meet Eden.”
“Whatever for?” Arabella asked, half worried that one of the Leung boys was going to attempt to make a play for the new mega heiress.
“And speaking of angels, there she is!” Rosina gushed, rushing over to hug an astonished Eden as she entered the ballroom with Rufus. “Eden, my dear Eden! How ravishing you look! Let me guess…Erdem?” Rosina eyed Eden’s elegantly minimalist lilac column dress, which she’d embellished with a vintage Fortuny shawl that shimmered with shades of violet and turquoise.
“Actually, I rushed out and found this at the Mango boutique this morning,” Eden laughed.
“Such practicality! From the first time I set eyes on you I knew there was something special about you! And now I know what it is,” Rosina gushed.
“Her ability to eat five hot dogs in under a minute?” Rufus offered.
“Sei gwai!” Rosina smacked her nephew’s arm playfully.
“So you knew my mother quite well?” Eden asked.
“Mary was one of my…my dearest friends,” Rosina said, choking up a bit. “It must feel so good for you to know the truth about her life.”