BRIDGET stood at the window of the master room. The room of her dearest husband in the west wing of the first manor. She could watch EVERYTHING from up there. The hall, from afar, was brimming with joie de vivre, exuberant energy, memorable songs, and attended by special guests of noble birth. Each one of them had a bright, smiling face. Damien's wedding of the century left an indelible impression, and the guests would never, ever forget this special day. A day that indeed should be 'recorded' in history. Bridget knew what was playing in their mind.
'Oh! How lucky we are to witness the magical ceremony, blessed by the head chief, Lord Albert himself!' she mocked them.
