May Wedding

Chapter 1London, Spring 1817 The Honourable Percy Havilland minutely examined his appearance in the full-length mirror of his dressing room. Today, of all days, nothing less than perfection would pass muster for his sister’s wedding. Rather than preening at his admittedly exquisite form, he critically scrutinised his burnished golden curls arranged in an elegant Cherubin style, the precision of his Oriental knotted cravat, and his flawless peaches and cream complexion above his smoothly shaved chin. With one final assessing scan of his reflection, Percy was satisfied. Daniel has outdone himself, he thought with genuine admiration for his favourite tailor’s skills. The dove grey tailcoat was so closely cut that he needed assistance from William, his butler and de facto valet, to don the garment without a single wrinkle, let alone a strained seam. The neutral colour not only brought out the cerulean blue of his eyes but emphasised the lean masculinity of his figure, nipped in at his swooningly slender waist, the perfectly cut pantaloons showing off Percy’s enviably long, slim legs. Percy tweaked one golden curl a fraction of an inch into place. Not too bad for an old man of nearly twenty-six, he thought with some satisfaction that his startling youthful beauty had not faded completely. He grinned naughtily, spoiling the impression of a sketched fashion plate in The Gentlemen’s Magazine. Nathan won’t know where to put himself when he sees me in this. He imagined his long-term lover’s rousing reaction to Percy’s most outstanding qualities packaged in such an enticing mode. Nathan had remained the love and light of Percy’s life for the past two and a half years and, with God’s good grace, until the end of his days. That is when they weren’t squabbling over some inconsequential trifle or imagined slight. Approaching forty and brusquely sensible, Nathan was a physical contrast to the dazzling Percy. He was marginally shorter, with indeterminate receding dark hair, middling-brown eyes, and thickset and muscular in build. Also, he hadn’t a smidgen of vanity and frequently bridled at Percy’s obsession with his appearance and the long but necessary hours spent before the looking glass, frequently causing them to be more than fashionably late. When lingering during such an instance in the doorway of Percy’s dressing room, Nathan had raised a cynical eyebrow at Percy’s declaration of requiring a new suit for Araminta’s wedding from Shelford’s, the tailoring establishment in Bond Street. Percy was a frequent customer who provided free advertising for the shop’s wares. He took great pride that the relatively new second branch on Tottenham Court Road was commonly referred to by the surname of the manager, Daniel Walters, Percy’s close friend and partner in extravagant clothing, or at least its provision. Nathan’s expression at the announcement of ordering another outfit reflected his recall of the dozens of barely-worn finery crammed into the wardrobes in Percy’s spacious dressing room. “You don’t want to outshine the bride,” Nathan remarked, only partially in jest. “There’s no question of that,” Percy replied firmly. His sister was not only possessed of striking good looks but also, Percy was meticulously overseeing every frill and furbelow embellishing the bridal gown. “I don’t want to let the side down,” Percy continued. “Let alone give anyone the slightest opportunity to pass a spiteful comment and mar Araminta’s special day.” Although the upcoming event was a love match and a joyous occurrence, there had been several hurdles to circumvent. The devastating Havilland family scandal had faded after more than two years and eventually became stale news. Subsequent eruptions of juicier gossip inevitably emerged to divert the ton. But Percy was conscious that a public occasion like a society wedding could provide an ideal opportunity to rehash past infamy. It felt like yesterday when Percy discovered that he and his siblings were illegitimate and suddenly beneath society’s notice. It had been revealed that his father, Sir Edgar Havilland, was married and had produced an heir in the far West Indies before travelling home to insouciantly wed Lady Caroline while his first wife was still very much alive. This revelation was disastrous to all the younger Havillands. Percy could still recall the sense of shock and social freefall, as though he had been pitched out of the top-floor window of a smart Mayfair terrace with onlookers gathered around to observe his fatal fall with ghastly relish. The passing of time had revealed this crisis was a blessing in disguise. In Armand Blanchard, the Bermuda salt merchant, Percy had gained the finest example of an older brother to emulate where feasible. Also, the immediate impact of the public disgrace had won him true enduring friendships and led directly to his and Nathan’s lasting intimacy. The debacle had also improved his standing with his siblings, not counting his two elder brothers, Clarence and Digby, who were best avoided. His dear brother Simeon, closest to him in age and Percy’s protector in childhood, was always held in affection, but now their relationship was close and constant rather than intermittent. Percy was also reacquainted with his three much younger sisters, Eustacia, Araminta and Phoebe, then aged seventeen, sixteen, and fifteen. Due to his concern for their marriage prospects, within a year, he had taken them under his wing, once he had accomplished a hasty move from his lavish West End apartment to a rambling property in the nearby village of Little Chelsea. Percy considered it a profound blessing that the bride’s infinitely selfish parents would not disarrange themselves from their Sussex country pile to attend the fashionable May wedding of their fifth child. Araminta was merely a second daughter, even if she had snagged the youngest son of an earl. Chilly compliments had been sent by letter, along with a wedding gift of an exquisite Sèvres dinner service. When this had arrived at Chelsea, Percy and his housekeeper Martha had examined the first layer of delicate china in the packing box to check for any breakages in transit. Percy reflected that although their mama might be uncaring, no one could fault her unerring good taste for desirable objects. Including lovers, Percy conceded. It was common knowledge in some circles that his blond loveliness, a facsimile of his mother, was enhanced by a fair-haired summer guest at the estate of Massingfield where the Havillands ruled all they surveyed. Percy’s youngest sister Phoebe had inherited her copper curls and bright personality in a similarly unofficial way from a visiting Scots Guardsman who had fleetingly caught Lady Caroline’s acquisitive interest. Her children were discarded without much notice and with even less sense of duty. Percy, who always supposed that he was as heedless as his mama, was taken aback by worrying as much as two affectionate parents over his sisters in the eighteen months they had been in his charge.