July 6, 2014
Ma Chere MoMo,
Everyday is so busy now I hardly have time to write! L’adventure de la cigales continues. The Veterans have found a marching band that wishes to be added to the parade. This group of elderly Veterans from Avignon still play together on special occasions, and were slightly insulted that they were not included in the festivities. My experiment to fire a cannon to see if cigales are deaf may be compromised by the sound of a brass band! I have enlisted the army of Vernet cousines to help me. Now it is a matter of family pride that we have the best pique-nique Serignan has ever seen. And a local vineyard has offered to supply the wine. Seems you can not have a pique-nique without the proper wine!
Marianna Vernet-Fabre’s diary reflects the busy time leading up to her wedding. She became sporadic in her entries, with occasional rants about the local patisseries baker and the price of beef. but her account of her wedding day written a few days later is quite endearing. You are invited to the Wedding!
.oOOo.
March 21, 1884
My heart is still so full of joy, even a week after our wedding, that I am convinced the feeling will never leave. We decided to spend our Honeymoon right here in Serignan, we simply traded homes with Sherlock and John who offered to baby/bee sit for us. Of course Henri’s children (I should say our children, how lovely that sounds!) are well behaved and can take care of themselves as well as their forgetful Father. But the idea of being alone with my new Husband for a week or two was quite appealing. Henri had much to make up for.
We planned the wedding day for March 15th so that the weather would be nice for traveling. And more importantly, My Little Professor would not be engaged in any new Springtime experiments and be able to focus his attentions on me. The wedding took place in Orange in the old church my Uncle Jean and Aunt Manon were married in. And after, the Vernets set up a wonderful wedding supper at Uncle Jean’s Home which was about ten miles from town, a pleasant ride on good roads.
The week before our wedding the air was enticing with the sweet smell of Spring in the air. Henri and the children had already been staying at Uncle Jean’s. The children were helping with the preparations of the feast, taste testing all the sweets. Several Vernet cousins whose specialty was weddings popped in and out constantly. Michelle and Michel had arrived. Michel brought extra horses, “Just in case,” he said. Even Sherlock and John were staying at Uncle Jean’s, setting up their photograph equipment and plotting something with Michel. I did not want to know what. Michelle was my Maid of Honor and Henri’s dear friend John Mill was the Best Man. Papa said it was like a secret police operation. Everything was double checked and ready and I would certainly get my man.
And Papa was right! The wedding went off without a problem and everyone was exceedingly happy, smiling and laughing and wishing us well. Later at the wedding supper, after a few toasts with very good champagne, I learned the truth.
I overheard John talking about close calls and brilliant planning with Sherlock, so I cornered John and asked him sweetly for a dance and forced him to tell me what happened. It seems that My Darling Husband almost missed our Wedding Day! If not for Sherlock I would have been left at the alter embarrassed, heartbroken and as angry as a Vernet can be. Not a desirable outcome.
According to John, Sherlock in the weeks before the wedding had been observing the bees. Sure enough they were beginning to stir a little early this year. There were just enough early wildflowers in bloom to sustain a hungry bee newly awakened by the Spring air. He also observed Henri. All the jokes about him being absent minded were taking their toll. It was a matter of pride to him and he insisted on being the last to leave Orange for the church, he did not need a nurse maid to get him to his own wedding. He insisted he wanted some time alone for prayer and reflection before his vows. Henri did not like to socialize generally and Vernet women talking about lace and pastry and the men joking with him about his beloved insects had put him into a distracted mood. Sherlock deduced that the wedding’s success was in danger. For Sherlock knew Henri was not strong enough to resist the buzz of the first bees of Spring calling to him. So Sherlock devised a plan. Two days before the wedding, Henri was given a men only party at a local cafe’. Henri was pleased to be away from wedding planners and had a bit too much to drink. The night before the wedding everyone but Henri went to stay with the Vernets who lived in town. They were planning a simple breakfast for the wedding guests while the bride was pampered and prepared for the wedding at noon.
Henri slept fitfully and was lying in bed fully awake when the dawn chorus of the birds started and drew him to the window. He had no doubts in marrying his sweet little bride. He was only upset by all the fuss and attention and wanted the wedding to be over. It was then he heard the buzzing of the hive. Way too early, he pulled on his rumpled clothes and his bedroom slippers and rushed ouside to investigate. “I have plenty of time.” he muttered.
Sherlock and John were watching from a nearby hill through a spy glass. Sherlock had wished it had not come to this, but he knew he had to set his plan into action.
Henri, completely distracted by a new dance the bees were exhibiting, had forgotten the time. He heard softly in the distance the peeling of the church bells. The peeling of the wedding bells, his wedding bells at noon! He looked at his pocket watch. Noon. He fell to his knees and cried out, looking up he saw three horses with two dark riders approaching.”The Vernet men have come to fight a duel with me, and I deserve to die!” he said out-loud.
Sherlock and John rode up to Henri and smiled at him. “Up! Up! Monsieur Fabre! Your Bride awaits, Sir!” cried Sherlock dramatically as they dismounted. “But the time. Sherlock! Noon! I have disgraced my Dear Marianna.” Henri hid his face.
“Monsieur,” said John exchanging a worried look with Sherlock,”It is less disgraceful to be late and face the ridicule with head held high, than to destroy Marianna by letting her go unwed.”
“If you do not come with us right now, I will have to challenge you to a duel.” said Sherlock in his best mad-brother tone, but with a smile on his face.
Henri realized that John was right. He stood and embraced both men.”I am lucky to have gained brothers such as you, bless you,” he said.
The boys grabbed Henri and rushed him into the house. John helped him clean up and dress in his wedding clothes that somehow were neatly arranged on Uncle Jean’s bed. Sherlock had seen to the horses, and strangely each saddle had a man’s hat box attached. “For the Wedding,” Sherlock explained. They mounted and raced to the waiting bridal party in Orange.
I stopped John at this point. Henri was not late! He was right on time, and perfectly groomed and tranquil. John then explained what Sherlock had done.
He noticed the bees, he noticed Henri’s stubborn mood and devised a plan to save the wedding and Henri’s pride. He had the help of Michel, John and Claude, Henri’s son. Michel had brought three strong fast horses from his farm, fully equipped for a riotous ride.When the Vernet men took Henri to the cafe’ Sherlock made sure Henri had plenty to drink. He then removed Henri’s pocket watch from his coat and changed the time. He moved the hands forward two hours and replaced it. Back at Uncle Jean’s, Claude did the same to all the clocks there. Sherlock told Claude that his new Uncle Michel would handle anyone who noticed that the clocks were changed, but that he doubted anyone would notice while so distracted by the wedding. Sherlock was right. On the night before the wedding when everyone was ready to leave, Claude arranged his Father’s wedding suit on his Great Uncle’s bed and closed the door behind him. Sherlock knew Henri would never open that door out of respect for Uncle Jean’s privacy. Sherlock and John returned at dawn on the wedding day, with the three fast horses provided by Michel, and watched Henri with a spy glass. Sherlock had arranged that Claude would sneak into the church and ring the bells at ten o’clock instead of noon. Uncle Michel stood by in case there was trouble. Sherlock had said probably no one would notice. Sherlock was right. Then John saw Henri fall to his knees, clutching his pocket watch at the sound of the church bells. John did not like putting Henri through Sherlock’s charade. But as Sherlock explained there was about a 99% chance that Henri would be late if left to himself. He pointed out to John that he was already distracted by the bees and he had never bothered to find out where his wedding clothes were before everyone left, and Henri’s old horse was slow as molasses on a good day, and Henri had yet to saddle him up! Sherlock was right.
So with Henri believing it was after one o’clock, and in reality it being five minutes after eleven. The three men rode frantically into Orange and tied their horses behind the church entering through the back door vestibule. Sherlock fussed with the hat boxes, hung up the hats and produced a hip flask from inside of one, passing it around. John had retrieved a wooden box with a bee carved on it from his saddle bag. John opened the bee box that was usually used to store honeycomb, and produced three perfect red carnations for their lapels. Henri looked hesitantly into the church. John Mill was stationed by the alter looking as distinguished as ever, he was whispering to Henri’s son who was looking manly and proud in his first formal suit. And his Daughter nearby, dressed in pink with flowers in her hair looking like a delicate rosebud. Everything was calm and a hush was over the church. The sound of reverent whispers filled his ears. Henri looked at John confused. John sighed and explained briefly what they had done. Sherlock looked at the floor in embarrassment. Henri looked at Sherlock with tears starting in his eyes, then grabbed him and kissed him on both cheeks. “Sherlock, you were right,” he said, and walked into the church with a proud yet tranquil look on his face.
I looked across the room at Henri, who was deep in conversation with Sherlock. I caught Sherlock’s eye and he winked at me. I decided that my first act as Madame Fabre would not be an angry scene but one of forgiveness. I winked back.
Next thing I knew I was being pulled away from John and into a quiet corner by Michelle. I thought I could not be happier, but what Michelle told me made my already full cup of joy overflow. She told me that when I was reciting my vows, she was overcome with boredom (I gave her a kick with my dainty slippers at that point, which made her giggle) and started glancing around. She saw Sherlock and John at the back of the church standing like guards in their usher poses, hands folded in front of them. But during the vows they looked at each other silently, never looking away. When I exchanged rings with Henri, she saw Sherlock and John exchanged something too. A moment later they resumed looking straight ahead, hands folded. But now each of them were wearing a signet ring and small smiles on their faces. Later Michelle danced with John and took a good look at the gold ring. In an elaborate script that was hard to make out were the initials SH. Michelle did not say anything, but she hugged John tight, her smile saying volumes.
Later I pulled Sherlock into a dance, and glanced at his new ring with the elaborate initials, JW, inscribed in it. “Congratulations, my dear brother,” I whispered in his ear. “Thank you, darling sister,” he said. He lifted me up and spun me around in a spirited dance. My wedding day was complete.
.oOOo.
What a lovely wedding! I visited Orange the other day and walked into the old church. I imagined my ancestor’s joy in this sanctified place. I imagined Sherlock, Henri and John putting on their red carnations, and my little wooden bee box holding such treasure. Then I stopped by Mari’s mas and tried to imagine where they would have been dancing. Mari asked if I were thinking of adding a dance to my pique-nique. I surprised myself and said, yes. Well, we will have a band!
Cordialement,
Marianna
amongyourbeesandyourbooks 