Disclaimer: I own neither the rights to the Patriot nor those to the Book of Common Prayer.
Chapter 7: The Worst Wedding
"I think it will rain, my dear," Miss Gilpin objected. The morning had dawned grey, and she thought Jane's fancy to go to Charlestown very rash.
Jane glanced out the window. Dark, lowering clouds gathered heavy in the north. A freshening breeze whipped through the branches of the magnolia near her window. She leaned out into the air, smelling the rich, tilled earth, and the faint tang portending thunderstorms.
A bad omen, she thought to herself. A Roman would turn back.
She was, however, not some ancient Roman, but a Carolina lady and a Christian. No superstitions would prevent her from driving to Charlestown today.
She withdrew from the window, and smiled cheerfully at her companion. "And what if it does? A short journey, and it's my only opportunity to purchase more finery before Colonel Tavington leaves us. A little rain will not hurt us."
"It may do your gown no good," Miss Gilpin retorted. She went down to breakfast, and Jane was alone, making her last preparations.
She had said nothing to her father. Selina, however, might wonder where she was. Gathering her courage, she walked down the hall and rapped on the door.
"What is it?"
"It's Jane, Selina. I'm going to Charlestown to visit the shops. Do you wish to come with me?"
"It's going to rain, you goose."
"I am to take that as a 'no,' then?"
An audible word of vexation, then: "Of course I mean no. Go away."
Jane made a face at the door, thinking with disgust that Selina probably wished to remain available on Colonel Tavington's account. Perhaps she's hoping he'll return early, while my father is occupied in his study, and then—
Well, Selina would not betray Jane's father today. Colonel Tavington would be in Charlestown with Jane, and Selina would wait for him in vain. It was some consolation amid a host of doubts and fears.
Chief among them were these: would Tavington actually meet her at British Headquarters at eleven o'clock as promised? Would they actually marry? And, if so, where would she be living tonight? She hoped Tavington could find some decent quarters for her. She did not need anything large—a room for herself , a room for Tavington, a room for Miss Gilpin, a room for Biddy and Letty, a sitting room, perhaps a dining parlor—that would be quite enough. All Charlestown would be talking!
And then there was her father. He would be very displeased, certainly, but she need not worry: she would be a married woman and out of his power. With some concern, she thought of her belongings. Would Papa be angry enough not to send on her clothes and books? She hoped not, but then, thinking things over a little longer, she opened her jewelry box and rolled all the items up in soft flannel. These and the precious miniature of her mother she dropped into a capacious pocket, along with her tinderbox, her little money purse, a comb, two lace-trimmed handkerchiefs, and her ivory toothbrush. On a whim, she stuffed in a little square of scented soap in a traveling box, and a sachet of her favorite lavender and lemon. The pocket, full to bursting, stood out from her hip like old-fashioned panniers.
Biddy, she was sure, would be sent on to her. Her father would not dare steal something as expensive as a slave—a slave whom all Charlestown knew to belong to Jane. It might take a few days, but Biddy would be with her soon. How happy they would all be when reunited, free of Ashbury and Selina Rutledge!
Her money box! Hidden behind her dullest books was a little tin box where Jane kept her secret cache of money. She had been receiving her own income for over three years, and had converted some to bank notes and coin. After paying the two hundred pounds a year her father demanded for room and board, she still had a great deal left over. Any prospective husband, she knew, would know about her twenty thousand pounds, prudently invested and prudently untouched by her. Nobody but Jane and Letty knew about the fifteen hundred forty-seven pounds, nine shillings, and sixpence hidden in her room. It was all part of her dream of independence. If things ever got too bad at home, she would have had cash on hand to aid in her escape.
Awkwardly, she struggled to push the box into her other pocket. The sharp, uneven corners frayed the embroidered twill. It would bang against her leg as she walked. No matter. With the width of her heavy skirts, no one would be able to see it.
She dressed in her best from the skin out: her best shift, her best stays, her best embroidered pockets, her best plain white silk stockings and garters, her best and strongest underpetticoat, her best plain silk petticoat, and finally her best blue traveling habit. She looked in the mirror, sighing to see that Letty's painstakingly applied cosmetics did not hide her anxious, strained expression. With great deliberation, she donned her prettiest hat, dark blue and plumed with a profusion of ostrich feathers, and slipped on her newest gloves. Her boots were stoutly made, and nearly new. Though it was warm, she would have a cloak put in the carriage just in case. She could take nothing else. After sending Letty off to her own breakfast this morning, she asked her maid to wear her best today, and to bring her cloak, as well.
What of Miss Gilpin? Papa would be angry with her too, though she would be completely innocent of wrongdoing. There she was a little easier. Miss Gilpin would always have a home with Jane, and Papa would not dare try to refuse an Englishwoman her possessions, with the town full of and commanded by Englishmen. There would be unpleasantness, certainly, but he would pack up and send her belongings to her, certainly.
Going downstairs, full of reckless, carefree bravado, she forced herself to eat breakfast, though it all went down in nervous, square-feeling chunks. The carriage pulled in front of the front door, and Jane, with Miss Gilpin and Letty, was rumbling off to an uncertain future in Charlestown.
----
When the man was finally brought before him, glass-eyed and rancid with vomit, Tavington vented his wrath on the inattentive dragoons sent to watch over him.
"I ordered you to bring this man to me sober and competent at eleven o'clock!"
"Sorry, sir," protested the sergeant helplessly. "He had a flask in his boot. He's that artful—you can't keep him from his liquor."
With a sneer, Tavington turned on his regimental chaplain, the Reverend Mr. Henry Porterfield Blethers. This had been his best hope of keeping the proceedings a secret until beyond the possibility of Jane's family interfering. He had, he secretly admitted, somewhat miscalculated. If this broken-down man of the cloth were too drunk to perform the ceremony, Tavington's carefully constructed plan would collapse.
"You're a disgrace, sir."
The chaplain, leaning unsteadily against the big sergeant's shoulder, grinned weakly. "And I know it, sir. It's been dinned into me since I was eleven. 'A damned disgrace!'" He wiped flecks off his chin with the back of his hand. "That is my nature, my vocation, and my---" he straightened unsteadily, "--and my predestined fate. Sir. Colonel."
"Don't grin like a monkey at me, sir. Don't think I can't order punishment for you. It might do you good to take a few lashes with a rope's end in front of the men."
Blethers smiled a foggy reproof. "I, sir, am a gentleman. Can't order a gentleman flogged. Sir. Colonel."
Tavington leaned in, fixing the man's eye with his. "Don't try my patience, sir. In the backcountry I shall do as I see fit. Now, can you read the marriage service or can you not?"
The chaplain was airily delighted. "Marriage? How delightful? Who is to be wed? Corporal Bangs? Again?"
"I am to be married. And I want it done properly. Bordon! The license, if you please."
Bordon presented the license, obtained that very hour from the clerk of Berkeley County. The chaplain looked it over, eyebrows straining toward heaven, mouth turned down in a caricature of thought.
"You, sir, and—Samuel Talbot? Extraordinary!"
Bordon growled, "That is the name of the clerk. Here," he pointed, "is the name of the bride."
"Jane Rutledge. Much better." He smiled sweetly. "All right, then." His voice rose in clerical diapason. "Dearly Beloved---"
"She's not here yet, Blethers."
"Oh. Sorry."
Fists clenching, Tavington snarled, "Take him outside and wash his face. Then escort him back upstairs to the map room. Don't let go of him, if you value your sorry lives. I daresay there's nothing to be done about the smell."
Blethers volunteered helpfully, "I shall stand at a considerable distance, sir."
Tavington turned from him in disgust, and looked anxiously out the window. Bordon reassured him.
"It wants a few minutes yet, sir. She'll be here."
With a grunt of acknowledgement, Tavington remained staring at the street below. When Blethers was shoved past him, somewhat cleaner, he hardly noticed him.
It was not long before a carriage rolled down Broad Street. It stopped nearly at the door of the mansion that was now British headquarters. A footman hurried to help the occupants descend.
Yes! Tavington slapped his hand on the window frame. Victory! It was Jane, who now turned and seemed to be speaking urgently to her companions within the coach. In a few seconds, Miss Gilpin appeared, looking about her in bewilderment; and after another pause, the pretty young Letty, who seemed collected but very grave.
Jane was dressed handsomely in a blue habit. Tavington suppressed a chuckle. The military cut of her dark blue jacket made her look a little like one of his Continental adversaries. The thought, once acknowledged, troubled him a little. Was it an omen?
Rubbish! She had simply worn her best traveling clothes to her wedding. Quite understandable. And the color was a good one on her. The hat was particularly admirable. He need not be ashamed of such a bride. Plain, perhaps, but perfectly well bred and elegant.
It had begun to rain. Jane was hurrying to the shelter of the entrance, no doubt to protect her feathers, and to tell the sentry her business. Tavington hurried downstairs to meet her, put out at his own bad manners. He should have been there, in order to spare her embarrassment.
-----
The sentry was polite, and admitted her to the busy entry hall. She had been in this house many times before, but not since it had been commandeered as headquarters for the British Army. It was full of uniformed men, full of clerks, noisy with deep male voices. Jane looked up to see Colonel Tavington—her Colonel Tavington--hastening down the stairs to greet her. He really was extraordinarily handsome. A wonderful smile, oddly sweet on such a haughty individual, melted her caution.
"Miss Rutledge," he said, taking her hand in his own warm one, "you do me great honour. You've have made me a happy man."
She managed a weak smile in response. He was so much taller than she. No wonder men could order women about. Swallowing hard, her dry throat managed a reply.
"Surely you did not think I would fail to keep my word."
"I trust your word, but all sorts of happenstances could have prevented you."
"Well," she said shyly, "Here I am in spite of all of them."
Bordon joined them, bowing and smiling encouragingly at the nervous bride. Behind her, Miss Gilpin and Letty had entered.
Miss Gilpin did not mince words.
"My dear Jane, you intend to marry the Colonel? Today?"
"This instant, Madam," Tavington assured his bride's chaperone. "I have obtained the license from the clerk. My regimental chaplain stands ready to officiate upstairs." Tavington hoped the man was standing. If necessary he could lean on a sergeant, sit, lie down, or swing from a tree—but he would perform the ceremony.
His smiles and assurances did not reassure Miss Gilpin. "May I see this license?"
Bordon presented it to her. She perused it, mouth tight. "After the ceremony," she said, "it must be signed by your chaplain, by the bride and groom, and by the witnesses. And then it must be properly registered by the clerk."
"Indeed, Miss Gilpin," soothed Bordon. "I shall take it to the man myself."
"I shall accompany you," she declared. "Jane must have a certificate proving that this was a legitimate marriage."
Acquiescence all around. Tavington could not but agree that a legal document was essential in case of Rutledge's opposition.
The old lady, without bothering with apologies, pulled Jane aside for a private word. A little group of Loyalists officers passed, bowing. Jane recognized one or two of them, and curtsied in reply, somewhat distracted. Miss Gilpin then demanded her attention.
"My dear Jane! Think, I beg you, before you proceed. You hardly know this man. He is handsome, true, but can that make you happy? You need time, my dear, to know his true nature."
"He will take me away from Papa and Selina. That is enough."
Miss Gilpin grabbed at her sleeve. "It is not enough! You are putting your life and fortune into the hands of a stranger. You may think you can be no worse off than you are at present, but that is not true! You have no idea the harm a man can do you. Please, my dear, pause and reflect. Let us go home. If the man is worthy of you, he will correspond. A good man will not mind waiting until you are absolutely sure."
Jane tossed her head impatiently. "I am absolutely sure now! And I promised. I'm not a coward."
"Oh, Jane! Don't marry the man out of pride or spite! Nothing good can come of it."
Letty was standing in a corner, looking miserable. Jane beckoned her over. "Letty, I want you to hear this too. Don't be worried about my marriage. I fully intend to take you with me. And you, Miss Gilpin—you will always have a home with me. Please don't think that I mean to leave you behind!"
"It's not that, Miss Jane," Letty sighed. "I just don't think—he's not—" Unable to tell what she knew, her face betrayed all her anguish.
Understanding her, at least in part, Jane answered softly, "I think I understand you. The Colonel may have made—mistakes---but he is here to marry me today."
Miss Gilpin regard her sadly. "If you are determined, Jane--"
"I am." She gave each of them a hand, and smiled. "Be happy for me." She turned and rejoined an impatient Tavington. The two women looked at each other and then at Tavington, a look that he understood as very serious reservations about this wedding. Neither of them was running away to tattle, or openly protesting, at least.
Giving his bride his arm, he led her upstairs. Bordon accompanied Miss Gilpin, doing his best to address her concerns, and an unhappy Letty trailed behind, hoping that no one would notice her and order her to wait in the coach. If this disaster must happen, she wanted to see it for herself.
A number of staff officers noticed the little procession. One major paused, and asked, "Good day to you, Colonel. This looks like a wedding!"
"It is," Tavington replied curtly.
The slender, rather dandified officer then turned to Jane, with an elaborate bow. "Then permit me to wish you joy, Madam."
"Thank you." She wished to say more, but Tavington was keeping her moving along. The polite officer went into another room, and seemed to be telling someone within his news. Men are such gossips, Jane thought, for not the first time.
"--a wedding! Tavington himself! With the Rice King's daughter!"
"--Rutledge, isn't it?"
There was a door a little on, and Tavington led her through it. This room was the most altered of all. It had been a lady's boudoir, and was now full of tables and papers, with a big map of the colony spread out against the far wall. A lanky, unkempt man in a clerical collar was waiting, Book of Common Prayer in hand, and flanked by a pair of huge dragoons. He smiled at them all dreamily, showing blackened teeth. Jane felt a faint foreboding.
"Will the bride and groom approach?"
Tavington gave Jane another smile, and stepped forwardly instantly. Jane thrilled with hope, clung to his side, and looked up at the chaplain, ready to face her future.
Blethers paused, his book open in his hands, and gave her a quick raking glance from top to toe. His brows rose. He looked down to his book again with a very visible, very dubious grimace.
It was not lost on anyone before him. Tavington stiffened, already planning revenge for the insult. Bordon was sorry for the poor girl. Miss Gilpin was indignant; Letty, disgusted.
And Jane was crushed. On the one day she had expected no invidious comparisons of her looks with anyone else's, she had been publicly judged and found wanting. Her face burned, and words came haltingly. Then anger followed shame, and she turned away, her voice loud in her own ears. "Is this some sort of trick? This man cannot be a clergyman!"
Blethers shrugged. "Alas, I am: more's the pity."
Jane rounded furiously on Tavington. "If you wished to mock me, you did not need to go to such lengths!"
Tavington glared blue murder at the chaplain, who smirked uneasily. Then he took Jane aside, and tried to reassure her, telling her the truth. "The man is indeed an ordained minister of the Church of England. He is my regimental chaplain. He is also, as is evident, a sot and an imbecile. But it was my best hope of keeping this matter quiet until we chose to reveal it. I beg--" he stumbled over the unfamiliar word, "—your indulgence. He shall perform the ceremony, and he will be duly punished for his beastly drunkenness and insolence."
He led her back before the wretched fellow, avoiding the furious eyes of Miss Gilpin. He fixed Blethers with a grim stare, and growled, "Begin, sir."
Some officers began gathering at the back of the room, come to watch. Jane felt uncomfortable, but clearly her wedding was to be their entertainment of choice for the moment.
Blethers, pleased with his growing audience, raised his eyes to Heaven, and began intoning the service with insincere unction.
"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an--honourable estate," Blethers snorted, and continued drawling out the words, and putting special emphasis on the ones he found most amusing. "-- instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul—"
Blethers coughed here, a noise that sounded like "odious man"—"to be honourable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly--" he leered at Tavington "--to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained."
He straightened up to his full height, swayed precariously, and then continued:
"First, It was ordained for the procreation of children—" here his leer was for Jane—" to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name.
"Secondly, It was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body." Blethers' lips turned down, in monkey sadness, commiserating with Tavington at his loss of freedom.
"Thirdly, It was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace."
Here he paused, smiling. The pause lengthened into a silence.
Tavington broke it harshly. "Continue, Mr. Blethers."
"Sorry. Only sporting to give everyone a last chance. " He took up his book again.
"I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God's Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful."
Another long pause. Blethers reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, and blew his nose loudly.
Tavington waited, fuming. Jane, her eyes now on the floor, just wanted it all to be over.
Blethers looked up, and asked, "No impediment?"
"None, sir," Tavington answered, his voice ominous.
"Oh, good. Now come the parts where you join in. Wait," he said, and leaned toward Tavington, who wrinkled his nose at the stink. "I don't know your full Christian name, sir."
"William Mortimer."Blethers sniggered, but quickly began speaking, before Jane could tell the chaplain her own name. She bit her lip.
"William Mortimer, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"
Tavington said shortly, tired of the man's games, "I will."
"Good. And—" he turned to Jane with a look of mild inquiry.
She cleared her throat, detesting him. "Jane Clarissa."
He rolled his eyes. "Jane Clarissa, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou OBEY him, and SERVE him--" he rattled off the next words, as if unimportant—" love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?
Jane glared at him defiantly. "I will!"
Blethers flinched in mild alarm.
"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"
Jane wondered, herself.
Bordon said quietly, "I do."
Tavington, not needing to be prompted, took Jane's right hand in his. Blethers waited, watching in faint distaste, and then continued:
"Repeat after me: 'I, William take thee, Clarissa, to my wedded wife--'""I, William, take thee, Jane, to my wedded wife—"
"--to have and to hold from this day forward,--"
"--to have and to hold from this day forward,--""--for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish—"
"--for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish—"
"--till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."
"--till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."
"Oh, well done," Blethers remarked. He made a vague gesture. "Now do the switching of hands thing."
Flushing with embarrassment, Jane resignedly took Tavington big right hand in hers.
Blethers spoke slowly and distinctly, apparently having decided she was a half-wit.
"I, Clarissa, take thee, William, to my wedded husband—""I, Jane, take thee, William—"
"Jane?" asked Blethers, surprised. "Are you sure?
"Quite sure," she hissed back.
"Oh, well, carry on then."
"I, Jane, take thee, William, to my wedded husband—""--to have and to hold from this day forward—"
"--to have and to hold from this day forward—"" --for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to OBEY—"
"-- for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey—"
"-- till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."
"-- till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."
She looked up at Tavington, hoping all would be well.
Blethers remarked, "You can let go of his hand now. And you, Colonel, have you a ring about you?"
Tavington produced a heavily chased gold band. It was a bit of plunder from further south. And obviously, he noted with annoyance, glancing at Jane's thin little hands, much too big for her. He laid it on the proffered prayer book. Blethers picked it up and looked it over approvingly. Tavington wondered for a moment if he would dare to bite it.
Thankfully, he did not. He gave it back to Tavington, saying, "A good bit of gold, that. We're almost done. Just repeat this after me:
"With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow—"
"With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow—"
"--In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."
"--In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."
"Well, stick it on her, then."
Tavington took Jane's left hand, and slid on the too-large ring. It hung there, massive and somehow inappropriate. Jane tightened her hand around the awkward thing, trying to keep it from slipping off.
Blethers took a deep breath, and concluded the service.
"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. Forasmuch as William Mortimer and Jane Clarissa have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost."
With a smirk, he added, "And may God have mercy on your souls. Amen."
There was a collective gasp. Jane's huge ring dropped to the floor with a bright, musical clink. Tavington's face reddened, and with two long strides he had crossed the distance to the chaplain and had him by his white, clerical collar.
"You're a dead man, Blethers."
Undismayed, the drunken chaplain replied, with the serenity of the hopeless alcoholic, "I always was. So are we all." And with that, he collapsed in a stupor.
-----
Note: I am well aware that today Charleston is in Charleston Country. It was in Berkeley County in 1780. While online histories of Charleston County claim it was organized in 1769, that is not exactly true. Due to pressure from the Regulator movement in the backcountry, additional judicial districts were set up, and Charleston was one of them. However, it was not until after the Revolution that South Carolina was divided into more counties (and even then there was considerable evolution.)
Next--Chapter 8: Breaching the Citadel (the chapter I fear nobody will like!)
