The small gold filigree basket captured the sunbeams as they filtered through the lace voiles, giving the illusion that the small antique object was magically sprinkled with stardust. It was sitting on the dressing table in room 206.
The year was nineteen twenty. Eleanor Beaumont smiled at her image in the dressing table mirror, her face reflecting the contentment she was feeling.
The day had started with Eleanor feeling nervous as the heavy drapes had been pulled back from the window. There was no sun to greet her only a veil of mist lying above the moorland which was rich in heather awaiting its deep purple hue.
She had watched, as slowly the white shroud disappeared and a watery sun rose on the horizon. Her diary sat on the table before her. The rich lavender cover was of the finest silk, inlaid with beads and sequins. Tiny jewels of blue, lilac and pink attached to a satin ribbon of the palest pink. The marker lay across the book as if to hide a secret.
Eleanor smiled and turned to the first blank page and read the inscription. ‘To my Dear Friend Eleanor, loving memories Victoria’
Eleanor turned the pages until she came to the tenth day of February. Her heart fluttered with excitement. This day was to be the proudest and happiest day of her life!
As Eleanor smoothed down the page of her diary her thoughts were on the preparations that would be taking place. The gardener would be gathering sprigs of rosemary and snowdrops, which would nestle on a soft carpet of white heather for her to carry in the beautiful gold filigree basket. The seamstress would be putting the final touches to her gown and the nave and sanctuary now filled with the sweet smelling flowers. Already, the choir and orchestra would be assembling beneath great rafters. The bell ringers in their finery would be gathering their ropes and making the great instruments ring out their melodious golden tones. How her head spun with such wondrous thoughts.
Eleanor was considered by many as handsome. Her chin tilted proudly if not a little defiantly and her hair the colour of chestnuts, flowed into soft waves.
Today it was held neatly into a tight roll, low into the nape of her neck and all she wore was a peach, chiffon under slip.
Her moment in time was almost here, and she found it almost too much to bear. Perhaps if she lay on her bed until she was called she might regain her composure. On the white crisp cotton sheets she rested. A sigh escaped her lips.
‘Did he die or something? The young nurse whispered, pushing her round- rimmed spectacles back on to the bridge of her nose.
‘Not sure,’ her colleague said. ‘I did hear she’d been jilted at the altar. She used to ramble on about a wedding, but all her notes have her down as a spinster. But every year on this day she remembered …whatever it was.’
‘Didn’t she ever tell you?’
The nurse shook her head. ‘Every year on this day she would spend an hour by her window watching the dawn break and then sit at her dressing table smiling as she prepared herself.
She would brush her hair and coil it into the nape of her neck. I have even seen her putting on a bit of rouge. Often I’ve come into her room and found her dancing around her bed her face shining. But only ever on this day.’
As the nurses gently tended the body of the frail genteel old lady, they brushed her long grey hair and watched as it slowly sprang back into soft deep waves. They were removing the small filigree basket and the battered old leather bound diary of eighteen forty from her bed when they noticed a faded and frayed picture fall from her fingers to the floor. The nurse hurriedly pushed the picture into the pages of the diary and placed the treasured and precious possessions into the bedside locker.
If they would have stayed a moment longer they would have seen a handsome young woman with beautiful chestnut coloured hair, carrying a small gold filigree basket of snowdrops and rosemary on a soft bed of white heather, as handmaiden to her friend Victoria as she married Albert.
(c) 2024 Lillian Bradbury.
“A Wedding Day” is a poignant and touching story that takes us on an emotional journey through time. The tale begins with a young woman named Eleanor Beaumont, preparing for what should be the happiest day of her life. As she sits at her dressing table, surrounded by the trappings of a bride-to-be, we’re drawn into her world of excitement and anticipation. However, as the story unfolds, we discover that all is not as it seems. Through beautifully crafted prose, we’re taken on a bittersweet journey that spans decades, revealing the power of memory, the passage of time, and the enduring nature of love and hope.
This captivating story is just one of many gems found in Lillian Bradbury’s “Welcome to my World.” Bradbury, a talented writer from Yorkshire, has woven together a collection of short stories and poems that capture the essence of life in picturesque Pickering. Her work is a delightful blend of whimsy, nostalgia, and keen observation, offering readers a window into a world both familiar and enchanting. If you’ve ever dreamed of escaping to the English countryside or simply love stories that touch the heart, this book is a must-read. Why not treat yourself to a copy and let Lillian’s words transport you to her charming corner of the world?
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