A/N: Thank you for the reviews! As promised, here's the next chapter. Complete with dialogue.
Chapter Four - Condolences
Suddenly aware that she was staring, Diana tore her gaze from Mr Wayne's and directed it back to the couple at the altar. She kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye, however. Though she and Donna were staying at Kent Farm for dancing and the wedding breakfast, she had no idea if that same invitation had been extended toward Bruce Wayne. And she had no intention of letting him leave before she had spoken to him.
Steeling herself for what would be potentially great embarrassment later on, Diana kept her breathing calm and slow, forming how she might approach him. The best thing would be if Mr Wayne was also a guest at the Kents' wedding breakfast, and then the dancing this evening. Then there would be many opportunities to speak to him, to establish a proper acquaintance and the basis of friendship. Then perhaps her questions and entreaties—though they would still highly personal—would be answered. If, of course, he had not been invited to the wedding breakfast, then Diana would have to literally chase after him as though she were hunting a fox. The mere idea of it was awful.
She took a deep breath and breathed out through her nose. Awful it was, yes, but if that was her only choice then she would still do that. She owed it to her father.
With that thought in her head, it was easier to calm herself, and within a few moments she felt better, enough to focus on the wedding. The minister was speaking, having gone through Clark's vows. Now he was leading Lois through hers. It was as Diana had expected, though she realised after a moment, once Lois had almost completely finished her vows, what had been missed out. Lois had not promised to honour and obey. Instead the word 'obey' had been replaced with the word 'cherish'.
Realising this, Diana felt a broad smile on her features. So like Lois, and why should it not be? Why should she promise to obey her husband by sheer virtue of the fact that he was her husband? Was it not enough that he had her love, that he had her heart, body and soul? Certainly, it seemed to be more than enough for Clark, who looked completely overwhelmed with happiness.
"I now pronounce you man and wife."
Everyone in the church stood, applauding the two of them. Clark and Lois seemed utterly oblivious to it all, with eyes only for each other. "That is the true image of love," Donna sighed.
Diana could only agree, especially when Clark bent and kissed his wife softly. That done, he led her out of the church, the rest of the congregation following them into the sunny churchyard.
"Miss Prince."
Diana turned to see Martha Kent hailing her. "Mrs Kent. You must be very proud."
"Indeed I am, my dear, indeed I am. Will you lend an old woman your arm?"
"Certainly," Diana said, holding out her arm so the older woman could take it. "Though I think you are not so very old, Mrs Kent."
She smiled at that, though shook her head before looking at the forms of her son and daughter-in-law. "Perhaps not, but this makes me feel it. Soon enough I will be a grandmother."
"You do not wish to be?" Diana asked, craning her neck to look behind them as they came out of the church. Mr Wayne was still following along with all the other guests. Now that he was standing, Diana could see for the first time how tall, as well as how broad, he was.
"No, of course I do. But it will make me seem so very old then."
Diana chuckled.
"You and your sister should come in my carriage," Martha said. "There's more than enough room for me and it will save you the walk."
Bruce Wayne was also getting into a carriage, black and with the a silver W on the carriage door. "Thank you, Mrs Kent, you are very kind," Diana nodded.
As they set off, she looked out of the window, relieved to see that the black carriage was following. "Who else is invited to the wedding breakfast, Mrs Kent?" Donna asked, as though she were receiving the question directly from Diana's mind.
"Well, there is Lois' family, of course, and as for her friends, there is really only you, the Brandons and the Ferrases—and a young officer under her father who is a particular friend of the family, I believe. Olsen, is his name, James Olsen."
The name meant nothing to either of them. "And from the groom's side?"
"Well through his work, Clark has a number of friends quite highly placed in society," Martha explained, without a hint of boastfulness. "Bruce Wayne, Oliver Queen, Mr White is his editor at the Daily Planet, and a few others. Mr Wayne's ward, Richard Greyson is here too."
"Greyson…" Donna mused. "I know that name. Where do I know that name?"
"Someone Father knew?" Diana asked.
"I doubt it," Martha said. "He's American."
"You forget, Mrs Kent," Diana said grimly. "Our father was a traitor. I'm sure he's supposed to have known many Americans. I'm sure he was a personal friend of President Madison."
"Diana," Donna reprimanded.
Drawn back to herself, Diana grimaced. "I'm sorry, Mrs Kent. I had a touch of melancholia."
Martha patted her hand. "Quite understandable, my dear, think nothing of it."
They pulled up outside the farm, though not at the house as Diana had expected. Instead outside the barn. She could not help the raised eyebrow she shot at Donna, who looked equally mystified. Martha, however, did not look at all concerned. Once everybody had dismounted from the carriages, they all looked as confused as the Prince sisters did. Martha only smiled benignly, apparently waiting for her son and daughter-in-law to arrive. Once they did, Clark stepped down first and assisted his wife down, then smiled at the assembled guests.
"Please don't be alarmed, ladies and gentlemen, we've not mislaid our senses. The farmhouse is simply too small to hold all of us with any degree of comfort, so we have made extensive renovations to the barn. I'm sure it will be to your liking, so please."
In they all went, and there were gasps of surprise and pleasure all round. From the inside, the barn could hardly be called that at all. Its floor had been paved with dark flagstone, swept immaculately clean. There were low-slung chandeliers over a long table, with wildflowers every few feet. As for the cutlery and plates, nothing matched, and nothing looked expensive. But it looked wonderful and welcoming all the same. They ate well too, though again the food was simple and plain. Humble.
As if the gods had planned it, Diana and her sister were sat opposite Bruce Wayne and his ward, shortly introduced to them as Richard Greyson. He was a young man about Donna's age, dark hair and blue eyes, handsome and with an easy smile. If not for manners, Diana had the feeling he would have introduced himself with a 'Call me Dick'.
Donna seemed completely charmed anyway, she noticed with a wry smile. Of course, it was to be expected—he was someone entirely unsuitable after all.
"How do you like living in England, Mr Greyson?"
"Very much," he answered. "It's like a miniature version of America."
"How long have you been here?"
"Bruce adopted me when I was ten, brought me to live here then."
"Really?"
"You seem surprised, Miss Donna."
"I am—forgive me, but you've a strong accent. I would not have guessed you'd lived here more than a year or two."
He shrugged. "I prefer to keep hold of my heritage; my accent is a mark of that. I might live here, and of course I labour in service to the Crown, but I am still an American."
"Perfectly understandable. You must miss it."
"I do. But I meant what I said; there is no part of the United States that is not reflected in England, so there are reminders of home everywhere. I particularly like Gloucestershire. Good bridle ways. I was out for a ride only yesterday."
"Oh it was you!" she gasped suddenly.
He blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, I beg your pardon," she said, hastening to explain, "but I was on top of Cobbler's Hill yesterday, sketching. I'd almost finished the drawing, but I needed something in the foreground, something to-"
"-draw the eye," he nodded.
"Exactly, yes—and at the perfect time, a rider appeared-"
"So you were the lady I saw."
"Yes! And you were—you are—the gentleman in my drawing!"
They both laughed at the same time, stopped, then smiled at one another. Donna felt her cheeks heating. He had a very charming smile. She blushed even more when he asked, "Miss Donna, when the music begins…may I have the first dance?"
With her sister chatting animatedly with Richard Greyson, Diana had little to do but exchange civil small talk with the other guests, all the while wishing to speak to the man sitting directly across from her. There was no possibility of embarking on a private conversation with him in the hearing of everyone else anyway, of course, but thus far they'd not said two words to each other, except the customary introductions, of course.
The other thing Diana had to do was look at how much everyone up and down the table was drinking. She knew there were several military officers here, and above all she feared the subject of her father being brought up.
Glancing across the table again, she was surprised to find her gaze being caught and held by Bruce Wayne. "My deepest condolences on the loss of your father, Miss Prince," he said after a moment, his voice low-pitched, steady and sincere. "I know what it is to have both parents snatched from you cruelly. Tou"
Diana found herself speechless.
"And your father was a good man, one of the best men I knew. If there is ever anything I can do, please do not hesitate."
She swallowed. "Thank you, Mr Wayne, you are very kind. It…has been rare. Even from some who before I would have called friends."
He nodded. "Fear is often endemic."
"So it seems." She smiled and looked at the top of the table. "However, Miss Lane- Mrs Kent's friendship has never wavered. And the senior Mrs Kent has also been very gracious."
"Yes, I've always found that."
"Do you know the family well?" she asked, taking a sip of her own wine.
"Quite well. I own the Daily Planet." This was said with such a lack of significance that Diana almost missed it, surprising though it was. "And Mr Kent and I sometimes work together outside the newsroom, which has allowed acquaintance to become friendship."
It was on the tip of Diana's tongue to ask what kind of work they did together, if it had anything to do with the kind of work Mr Wayne and her father had done together-
But at that moment, there was the loud sound of a chair scraping back, Mr Kent standing and holding his arms up for silence. It quickly fell. "Ladies and gentlemen, if I may take a moment of your time? Thank you." He beamed. "My wife and I-" he had to stop here and beam a little more, kiss Lois' hand, "my wife and I would like to thank you for both coming, and for all the congratulations and well wishes you have bestowed on us. It has been, and is, truly heartwarming."
There was a round of applause, a chorus of "hear, hear."
"There will be a short break whilst we all change our clothes, during which the band will set up and the servants can clear away the table. Then we'll all reconvene here for the dancing."
There were cheers all round, particularly from the younger guests. Including Donna, who should really have known better. She herself had no wish nor cause to dance, and instead went immediately (once changed into her evening gown) to one of the chairs placed on the edge of the hall. Obliged to come with her, Donna sat down too. And then almost immediately got up again when the music started up.
Dick came over. "Miss Prince. May I dance with your sister?"
"By all means," she smiled.
Soon enough, Diana found herself sitting with some other female guests, all of whom were acquaintances but were none of them friends. They all had been dancing, and sat with red faces, fanning themselves, glasses of wine in their hands. Diana waited for the flow of small talk to begin.
"Miss Donna looks as though she is enjoying herself very much."
"Indeed. She has always loved to dance, and this is a good occasion for it."
"Who is it she's dancing with?"
"Mr Greyson."
"An American, I hear."
"Yes."
"So strange that an American would be invited to a wedding in the heart of England, do you not think, Miss Prince? Or perhaps you do not."
"No, as it happens. I do not," Diana replied mildly, fixing the woman with such an implacable stare that she had to look away.
"Of course, his guardian is half-American, is he not? Mr Wayne? I am sure his mother was from the colonies."
"I have not heard which of his parents came from the United States of America."
"Odd that either of them should be invited. Had I known I declare I do not think I would have-"
"Bothered to come?" an angry voice interrupted. An angry, American voice. "Damn. Wouldn't that have been a loss to the party."
The women around Diana gasped—from nowhere, apparently, Dick had appeared, colour high in his cheeks with an exertion which Diana didn't think had anything to do with the dancing. "Sir, you should not use such language," one of the primmer women murmured.
"Then you shouldn't insult people you don't know based on things you know nothing about," he snapped back. "How dare you-"
"Dick." Bruce Wayne's turn now to melt out of the crowd, somehow looking even more fearsome despite his calm demeanour and cool tone. "Where is your lovely dance partner?"
His question seemed to draw Dick out of whatever temper he was in, and he took a visibly deep breath. "Outside. She wished to breathe some fresh air."
"Then you should join her," Bruce said, voice brooking no argument. "I am sure you need to cool your own head."
Once Dick had gone—without another word—the women began gossiping again. This time, they had apparently completely forgotten that Diana was even present. "Well, I must say! Americans and traitors at the same celebration-! It is well you reprimanded him when you did, sir."
"I happen to agree entirely with his words, madam," Bruce said coldly. "I suggest you visit America. Spend some time in its land and with its people before you condemn them simply for their nationality. Or for the false accusations laid against their families."
Diana understood why all the woman around her suddenly seemed to shrink away; the force emanating from Bruce was palpable, and his blue eyes blazed. He had not raised his voice, nor had his body language suddenly become threatening. He was just…undeniable. When he stretched out his hand to her, she took it without wondering why she was doing so.
Finally he looked at her, none of the anger left in his eyes. "Miss Prince. May I have this dance?"
"Of course."
A/N: Review please!