Timepiece (7 page)

MaryAnne laughed again.

“How was your first day off work?” David asked.

“I missed you.” She sighed. “. . . But not Gibbs.”

David smiled. “You know, he is to be my best man.”

“As long as I get you at the end of the day, I do not much care.” MaryAnne clasped her hands on her stomach and smiled dreamily. “Catherine and I found the most elegant wedding dress. It was quite expensive.”

“Shall I sell the business?”

“Do not tease me. I feel awkward spending your money. It is improper of me to even speak of it.”

“MaryAnne, it is wonderful having someone I care to spend it on. As your husband, I insist that you always allow me the luxury of spoiling you.”

MaryAnne draped her arms around her fiancé. “What makes you think that I do not already have everything?”

“The proper answer,” he replied. “Always the proper answer.”

“If the heavens were to open and a host of Angels descend, they could not have produced such an effect on my soul as MaryAnne descending the chapel staircase for our wedding.”

David Parkin's Diary. August 11, 1908

It was common knowledge, if anything among the city's social elite was to be deemed common, that David Parkin was not one for ostentatious display. So the extravagance of the wedding was a surprise to all, and even the most jaded admitted to being suitably impressed.

The preparation for the wedding had taken five weeks of daily attention from the time of the engagement announcement to the nuptial day, and Catherine, as instructed by David, saw to it all, conducting a symphony of florists, servants, and caterers. At one point, a florist wryly remarked,
“Madam, I was told this was to be a wedding, not a coronation.”

“This wedding will want for nothing,” Catherine retorted. “Mr. Parkin expects an affair unlike one this city has ever witnessed. And nothing less.”

The florist prudently apologized.

In the days leading up to the event, David considered MaryAnne's bridal gift with great care. Jewelry was customary, so in addition to the wedding ring, he had purchased a large diamond pendant, which, in afterthought, he found unsatisfying, as he thought gems generally cold, and the bauble's beauty easily outdone by MaryAnne's. Only two days before the wedding, the second gift arrived from a New York City brokerage and was promptly sequestered in the upstairs parlor behind a locked door. David was pleased by this gift most of all, and looked forward to its giving.

The morning of the wedding, Gibbs arrived
early at the house to take David for breakfast. The florist and his assistants, under Catherine's watchful eye, were already busy wiring flowers to the chandeliers, railings, and brass hardware as David greeted Gibbs at the door. David was dressed in a high-necked, white linen shirt with a twelve-button silk vest. His tailcoat was pinstriped and cut at the waist. He wore charcoal trousers and a black silk top hat.

“Gibbs! Nice to see you, old man.”

Gibbs embraced him in the open doorway. “He was warned against the woman, She was warned against the man, And if that won't make a weddin', why there's nothin' else that can!'”

“So there you have it, you are responsible for this affair.”

“I do not take responsibility.”

“It would be a good thing for you to do.”

Gibbs smiled. “I am happy for you, David.”

“I am happier for myself.”

“I confess more than once I have been reminded of scripture about coveting a man's wife.”

“You still have a few hours before it will be sin. Have you the license?”

Gibbs pulled the elaborate scrolled parchment from the breast pocket of his coat.

“Then you are an accomplice. And the ring?”

Gibbs nodded. “What a ring, David!” he exclaimed as he lifted the small box from his pocket. “Has MaryAnne seen it?”

David shook his head. “Not yet. It is one of the day's surprises.”

Gibbs replaced the box and took two cigars from the breast pocket of his coat and offered one to David, as he turned looking out to his motorcar. “Well, David, we best be off. Your single carefree moments are fleeting.” He grinned sardonically.
“And with a new wife, perhaps your fortune as well.”

At the dictate of English custom, the wedding was scheduled for twelve noon. Ten minutes before the hour, David, with Gibbs by his side, entered the chapel and proceeded directly to the altar.

As the last noon strike of the steeple's clock resonated in a metallic echo, the church organ erupted in brilliant sforzando. MaryAnne appeared at the top of the circular staircase, and the entire congregation rose to their feet as much in collective awe as ceremony. She was radiant in a hand-embroidered ivory dress that laced down the front, corseting her narrow, though expanding, hourglass figure. Delicate lace gloves rose past her elbows and a cathedral-length veil cascaded down her back, held in place by a simple orchid wreath.

David could not take his eyes off his bride as she descended the stair, flanked by Catherine and preceded by Catherine's five-year-old niece, who dropped white rose petals before them as they passed beneath the great floral arches of white peonies and apple blossoms.

For the first time in his life, David truly felt fortunate. When MaryAnne reached the altar, he leaned close.

“You look stunning, my bride.”

MaryAnne blushed as they knelt together before the clergyman on a silk pillow facing an altar of white-and-gold-leafed alderwood.

The organ ceased and MaryAnne handed the robed priest a prayer book. He thanked her, opened the book, and cleared his throat.

“Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”

There was a sudden and uncomfortable silence. It had been discussed previously
that there was no one to give MaryAnne away. It was an error, born of habit, on the clergyman's part, and he instantly recognized his blunder.

MaryAnne looked up. “God does, Your Reverence.”

The priest smiled as much at her cleverness as her sincerity.

“So he does, my dear.”

He looked out over the congregation. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to unite this couple in holy matrimony according to God's holy ordinance. Are there any who object to the union of this couple?”

There was no response, though Victoria Piper took the opportunity to cough. The priest turned to the bride. “My dear, if you will repeat after me.”

MaryAnne looked at David affectionately as she repeated the words of the vow until the priest said “till death do us part.”

David looked into her face as a tear
rolled down her cheek. “MaryAnne?” he asked gently. At her name, MaryAnne looked up at David. “Not until death, my love, but forever.”

David smiled and his eyes moistened. “Forever,” he repeated.

Catherine wiped a tear from her cheek.

The priest smiled and continued. “And thereto I give thee my troth.”

MaryAnne took a deep breath. “And thereto I give thee my troth.”

The priest then turned to David, who followed him in the oath with the proper and extemporaneous alterations. When they had completed their vows, the priest nodded to Gibbs, who handed David the ring. MaryAnne removed the glove from her left hand and handed it to Catherine, who took it, and delicately folded it in half, then took MaryAnne's engagement ring and bouquet. MaryAnne offered David her hand.

David held out the ring. It was an exquisite
diamond marquise of extraordinary cut and color, framed with sapphires, and set in a woven, white-gold band.

MaryAnne was breathless. “David!”

He smiled at her joy as he slid the ring onto her finger.

The priest bestowed a final blessing on the couple and the organ roared to life. David stood first, and offering his bride his right hand, helped her to her feet. She took his arm and, after Catherine had turned MaryAnne's train, they departed down the aisle. David shook a river of hands as they hurried out of the church to a flower-strewn carriage where a formally attired coachman sat waiting. At the couple's approach, the driver laid a step down and helped MaryAnne and then David into the carriage. He encouraged the horses with a flick of his whip and the carriage lurched forward.

When they were a distance from the church, David kissed his bride, then leaned
back contentedly. “I would like to give you one of your wedding gifts now.”

MaryAnne smiled. “One of?”

“Remember, my love, now that you are mine, it is my prerogative to spoil you.” He handed her a small box wrapped in elegant white tissue. She tore back the paper, then lifted the lid. Inside lay the teardrop diamond pendant. It shone with exquisite brilliance, reflecting the afternoon sun.

“Oh, David,” MaryAnne said softly. “You have made me a queen.”

“No, MaryAnne. I have merely provided the proper accoutrements.”

He raised the pendant, reached around her neck, and clasped its golden rope. It encircled her neck beautifully, falling just above her cleavage. She laid her head against his shoulder and looked down at her wedding ring. “I promise you that I will be a good wife.”

“And, my love, I promise to be a good
husband and friend. Your other present is back at our home.”

“Our home,” she repeated softly.

The wedding-brunch arrangements had been made for the garden, and it had never seen such splendor. No expense was spared. Long-shafted oil lamps with ribbons and orange blossoms tied around their supports decorated the grounds. Peacocks strutted about the yard in full plume between the white-laced tables that dotted the estate. The wedding cake itself was an elegant feat of architecture, six-tiered and bedecked with freshly cut white and peach roses.

The food was served from the high-pitched, flower-laced gazebo. The menu had been especially selected and was abundant with cakes and bonbons, raw and fricasseed oysters, bouillon, cobblers, ices
and coffee and entrées of crab, lobster, quail, and Cornish hens.

When the brunch had concluded, the caterers began the task of boxing and wrapping the wedding cake for the guests, and the couple moved inside to the elaborate drawing room, where white roses covered and concealed the room's chandeliers. Lilies and pink roses adorned the fireplace mantel and flowered vines encircled the mahogany pillars. David and MaryAnne stood before a backdrop of palms to meet their guests.

When the room's clocks struck five, David turned to his bride. “I would like to give you your wedding present now.” Taking leave of their guests, he took her hand and led her upstairs to the parlor, where he removed a thin key from his vest and unlocked the door.

At his request, she closed her eyes, and taking his hand, followed him into the room.

“You may open your eyes.”

MaryAnne opened her eyes. Before her stood a majestic grandfather's clock, larger and more magnificent than anything David had previously collected. It stood nearly eight feet in height, and the casing was ornately carved in floral renderings. Detailed pillars flanked the clock's hood, which rose in two swan-necked pieces of carved mahogany facing inward toward a central finial spire. The white-faced dial was hand-painted and bordered by ornately patterned brass spandrels, preserved beneath a lead-crystal door that locked with a skeleton key.