The Wedding Veil(3)
Now she raised her glass and said, “To my bright, beautiful Julia, who has always been poised to take on the world. May you find your eternal happiness, my darling girl.”
Everyone raised their glasses gleefully, but as we all clinked, I felt a familiar panic welling up in my throat. Could I do this? Could I marry Hayes tomorrow? And, maybe more important, should I?
Follow the rules, I thought. Follow the rules. The other women might have been toasting to my wedding, but Babs was testing me. She was asking me why I had changed course so suddenly, why I hadn’t stepped into the life I always thought I wanted. I stood taller, straighter, convincing myself that I was doing that. Hayes and our family were my future. The rest would work itself out.
My friends began filing inside the butterfly garden as well then, a man in a black-and-white uniform appearing to serve them champagne. Seeing all these women gathering to support me, to support my marriage to the man I loved, reminded me that my uneasy feelings were silly. Every woman felt nervous before her wedding. Right?
I looked up at the dozens of panes of glass—handmade, no doubt—that formed the roof of this historic building. I wondered what it would have been like to draw the plans for the massive arched windows inset in this beautiful brick. Realizing I was jealous of the architects who lived more than a century ago, I wondered if perhaps I had done the wrong thing, walking away from my dream career. I looked down to see that a butterfly had landed on the rim of my flute. Sarah snapped a picture with her phone, startling me out of my thoughts, as Babs clinked her glass with a fork. “Ladies, we have a quick surprise before lunch is served.”
I moved over to Babs as the guests murmured excitedly. “Being inside the conservatory isn’t enough of a surprise, Babs?” I whispered, so as not to scare off the butterfly.
“In life, and especially at a party, there can never be enough surprises, Jules.” She raised her eyebrows. “It’s the surprises that direct our path.”
As if she’d heard, the monarch on my glass spread her orange and black wings and flew off into the orchids, back where she belonged.
A woman who looked to be in her midfifties, dressed in a black-and-white Biltmore guide uniform, appeared in the doorway with a stack of books. “I am delighted to introduce one of Biltmore’s finest guides,” Babs said to the group, “who is here to take us on a tour of the conservatory and gardens. And, in honor of Julia’s wedding, we have a very special treat. With the help of the Biltmore staff, we have compiled a book of photos from Cornelia Vanderbilt’s wedding day for each of you.”
I put my hand to my heart. “Babs! You didn’t!” I had visited Biltmore Estate with Babs many times while growing up, and over the years, I had developed quite a fascination with the house and maybe even more so with Cornelia Vanderbilt, the little girl—and later, woman—who grew up and lived here. I knew she had been the first bride of Biltmore, but I couldn’t recall ever seeing any photographs from that day. As the guide handed me a book, my heart swelled. Babs was so thoughtful.
“Do you remember the first time I brought you here?” Babs asked. “You were the only six-year-old in the world who was as thrilled about the architectural details of Biltmore as you were about the candy shop.”
I laughed. “And you were the best grandmother for getting me an annual pass every year for my birthday.”
“Some kids like Disney World.”
“I guess this was my Disney World.” I smiled.
Babs put her arm around my waist and squeezed me to her side. “I love that we get to have yet another memory here at Biltmore, that this place we’ve always loved so much gets to be a part of the most special weekend of your life.”
I opened my photo book to the first page and Babs clapped her hands with excitement at the photo of Cornelia Vanderbilt, standing by the grand staircase at Biltmore, exquisitely dressed in a satin gown and holding a streaming bouquet of orchids and lilies of the valley. The guide, smiling at the group, said, “If you look at the first photo in your book, you can see that Cornelia’s veil included Brussels rose point lace.” I really zeroed in on it. Babs and I leaned closer, gasping in unison.
“It is a sight to behold, isn’t it, ladies?” the guide asked.
I could feel my heart racing, but that was silly, wasn’t it? I was just so keyed up about the wedding, the excitement of this day. But then again…
Sarah glanced over my shoulder. “Whoa. That’s crazy.”
“Isn’t it?” I replied. “Is Cornelia’s wedding outfit on display somewhere?” I asked the guide.
She shook her head ruefully. “The gown has been lost to history, as has the heirloom veil worn by Cornelia Vanderbilt, her mother, Edith, and Edith’s sisters and mother. Their whereabouts are a mystery. But a team from London re-created Cornelia’s wedding outfit from photographs in painstaking detail and with some difficulty. It is part of the Fashionable Romance exhibit that will be opening here at Biltmore soon.”
“Jules! We should go!” Sarah trilled.
I locked eyes with my grandmother. She had seen it too, hadn’t she? “Babs?”
“What?” Her face was a blank canvas.
Turning away from the guide, I said in a low voice, “It’s just that… don’t you think this looks like our veil?”
“I think so,” Sarah chimed in.