"I'll get a start on it," I told her. "You can come in later and adjust them all. But it will be a help to have them in their various containers."

Sally was grateful and consequently on that June morning, the day before Jessamy's wedding, I made my way to the church immediately after breakfast and set to work on the decorations.

It was a lovely morning, and I felt exhilarated. Tomorrow was the great day. Who would have believed it possible that Jessamy would be married so soon? Shy little Jessamy had found the man of her choice, whose home was a castle—albeit shared by David, Emerald, little Esmond and Grandfather Egmont. And the bridegroom was a doctor. Such a comforting profession. One never need suffer from mysterious ailments, for he would always know what was wrong and to whom should he give his care more assiduously than to his dear wife? Oh yes, Jessamy was a queen of romance. I would never have believed it possible. In fact, I had always thought that, in spite of my overwhelming handicap, I should be the first to marry.

Well, Fate—or Aunt Amy Jane, which I had begun to believe was the same thing—had decided otherwise. And here I was confronted by bucketfuls of beautifully scented flowers which filled the church porch with their exquisite perfume and I was to start on this task—for which I was not really fully qualified; but I should be some help to poor tired overworked Sally.

I carried the buckets into the church and found the containers in the vestry. Then I set about the task. I sorted the colors and carried in more water from the pump and began on the flowers.

I had been working for an hour, cautiously picking up the prickly stems and arranging the flowers to the best of my ability.

They were so beautiful—only the very best blooms would suit Aunt Amy Jane, and I could imagine how the gardeners had been harassed ever since she knew there was to be a wedding. I decided that the glorious pink roses which had an even more exquisite scent than the others should go on the altar. There was a special pot which was used for this. It was metal and rather heavy. I made the mistake of filling it with water and arranging the flowers and then carrying it up the three carpeted steps to the altar. I should, of course, have taken it to the altar and filled it there. It was a supreme effort on my part and I was not going to dismantle it. I was sure I could never achieve that artistry again. So I picked it up and started up the altar steps.

I am not sure now what happened. Whether I heard the church door creak and open, and turned and so fell, or whether I stumbled and fell and then the door opened. I turned to look towards the door and saw a man standing there as I felt the pot slipping out of my hands. The roses were falling out, stabbing my hands, and I made a frantic effort to save the pot, which failed. I went sprawling up the three steps. It all happened in less than a second. I was lying there, the overall I had put over my dress was soaked with water, the flowers were scattered round me, and the pot had gone rolling down the stairs—bump, bump, bump—scattering Seton prize blooms as it went.

A man was looking down at me.

"What happened? I'm afraid I startled you," I heard him say.

I have often heard of those dramatic moments when one meets people who make a devastating effect from the first. I had never believed it. One had to get to know people before one could judge whether one was going to like them. That was what I had always believed. Deep feeling has to grow. But something happened to me on those altar steps. It meant that I was fast approaching the end of my carefree girlhood when, try as I might to be serious, anything seemed to turn into a joke. Something was about to happen which was no joke at all.

I noticed that he was tall, that he had dark hair with rather heavily marked brows. It was a somewhat inscrutable face but it was one which I wanted to go on looking at.

It could only have been some seconds that I lay there looking up at him, but it seemed to go on for a long time. Then he was kneeling down beside me, helping me up.

"I've spilled the water over the carpet," I said.

"Yes, you have. Let's make sure you're all right, though. Come on. Stand up."

I did so.

"All right?" he asked.

"My foot hurts a bit."

He knelt and touched my ankle. He had a firm yet delicate touch.

"Press down," he said. "Now ... put your weight on it. All right?"

"All right," I said.

"No bones broken. What about your wrist? You fell on that, I think."

I looked down at my hands. There was blood on them.

"Only a prick or two from the thorns," I said, taking my hand and working it about.

He smiled at me and for the first time I remembered how untidy I must be looking in the overall, which was too big for me, and my hair escaping from its pins.

"Thank you," I said.

"Shall we pick this up?" he asked.

He stooped and lifted the pot.

"No damage," he commented.

"I hope not. It's one of the church's best."

"It's rather fine. Where do you want it?"

"On the altar. But I shall have to fill it with water now and put the roses back."

"I shouldn't try carrying it up three steps full again if I were you."

"It was silly of me but I had done it before I thought."

He put the pot on the altar and I stooped to pick up the pail of water. He took it from me and carried it up to the altar. I stuck in the flowers in a manner which would have completely shocked Sally Summers.

"There's going to be a wedding here tomorrow," I said. "I'm decorating the church. I'm not very good at it, as you can see, but it will all be adjusted properly before the day. I suppose you came in to look at the church?"

"Yes, it's a fine old place."

"Norman. Part of it anyway. My father would be pleased to show you round. He's got all the history at his fingertips."

He was studying me intently. "So you're the vicar's daughter."

"Yes."

"Well, I'm glad to meet you. I am only sorry that my arrival caused you such inconvenience."

"You can put it down to my carelessness."

"Do you feel all right now?"

"Quite all right, thanks."

"A little shaken?"

"No. I've fallen many times in my youth."

He smiled. "Have you much more to do to the flowers?"

"Lots, but I'll have to go. The dressmaker is due at any moment and I daren't keep her waiting. She's so much to do and she is the local flower arranger too, so she does not only have to assure herself that I shall be right for The Day, but she has to make my dismal handiwork presentable."

"Well," he said, "I must not detain you."

"I should have loved to show you the church," I said regretfully, for I had not at this stage learned to disguise my feelings and I was tremendously stimulated for some reason which I did not understand then; although he was attractive in looks, I had seen other good-looking men, and our conversation had not been particularly sparkling. In fact I felt more tongue-tied than I ever had before. I only knew that I was excited and so glad that he had come into the church.

"Perhaps some other time," he said.

"Do you often come this way?"

"This is the first time," he told me. "But I shall come again. And when I do I shall find you and keep you to your promise."

We came out of the church together. He bowed and put on his hat, which he had taken off when he came into the church. He was in riding kit and he went to his horse, which was tethered by the lych gate.

I went into the vicarage. Sally Summers was already there fidgetingly looking at the clock.

"It's all right, Sally," I said. "I've been to the church. I've got the water for you and put some of the flowers into the containers. Not the right way, of course, but it will be easier for you."

"Oh, thank you, Miss Anabel. Now just let me make sure that this dress is right. I was at the Manor yesterday to see to Miss Jessamy. A regular picture she looks."

I was stripped of my overall and old clothes and put into the blue silk chiffon.

"Why, bless us, Miss Anabel, there's blood on your hands," cried Sally.

"I pricked them on the rose stems. I stumbled up the steps and dropped the pot and flowers and all."

Sally tut-tutted and said: "I don't want any blood on this dress, miss."

"I've stopped bleeding now," I answered dreamily.

And there I was resplendent in my bridesmaid's dress and wishing the strange man could see me now.

I looked into the future and saw him arriving at the church.

"Is the vicar's daughter here? She promised to show me the church."

And we would walk round together and he would come again and again.

I could imagine what it would be like at the Manor that morning. Everyone would be running to and fro and Aunt Amy Jane would be like a captain on the bridge of his ship seeing that orders were carried out.

And Jessamy? She would awaken early, if she had slept at all.

They would bring a tray in to her. The wedding dress—pride of Sally Summers' heart—would be hanging in the wardrobe. The ritual of dressing would begin and little Jessamy would be transformed into a beautiful bride.

I should have been there. It was mean of Aunt Amy Jane to keep me shut away. I was Jessamy's natural confidante. I had shared her childhood secrets. It was natural that she should want to talk to me. And there was so much I wanted to know. I was sure that Jessamy was entirely ignorant of the duties of marriage. I was not very knowledgeable on these subjects myself, but I did keep my ears and eyes open and I had gleaned a good deal of information.