Cold Feet, Cold Heart.
Three more days passed and the ship finally landed in England, off the coast of St. David Life Boat station. Clara waited to be the last to get off the ship, wanting to keep her last moments of freedom and enjoy them. Harry had offered her a hand, so she wasn't alone when leaving, but Clara declined his offer and thanked him for her kindness and friendship.
"Anytime, Mrs. Stranton." He smiled. "If you are ever visiting London, head down North West from the center of London. There's a wee little Irish community where my Pa and sister live. Just ask for me and someone will point their way for you."
"Thank you," Clara said and hugged him.
Harry was part of the middle ship travelers to leave. Clara inhaled fresh freedom when she saw that she was the last to leave. Clara walked off the ship, on the runway down to the docks, where he saw a man standing there. The man had short, blond hair and wore a rimmed hat.
"Are you the one Owen sent?" His thick, England accent asked Clara. "Probably are. She's expected either yesterday, today or tomorrow."
"Y-yes." Clara said, trying hard to keep her voice clear and strong. "May I ask your name?"
"Michael Smith." He told her. "This way," He said and grasped her hand, tightly, pulling her to where he wanted her to be.
During the half hour minute horse carriage ride to wherever they were going, Clara looked around the city of St. David and saw how nice and friendly everyone seemed to be. If she was to live here from now on she was glad there were many people here. Maybe she could tell one of them the truth and help get back home.
Clara heard the familiar sounds of bells ringing. Church bells to be exact. She peered outside the window to find a very massive size church, gray stoned, with large bells on top of the tallest tower. "Why are we going to a Church? It's not Sunday."
"Friend of mine is there." Michael said, blowing a cigarette smoke in Clara's face. She coughed a few times. "Be there in ten minutes."
Clara sighed silently. Ten more minutes of real freedom.
Ten minutes passed and they were parked out front. Clara gazed at the beautiful sight. She hadn't been inside a large church like this in years. She adored big churches like this, and old ones too, but she also loved the schoolhouse church in Hope Valley too.
She turned around to face the hills and discovered gravestones along them. This church must also have their own cemetery, which added to it's history that somehow made this church seem beautiful.
She entered the old prayer mansion and found more beauty inside. The glass windows were vibrant in shades of royal blue, scarlet red, sunny yellow, Spring green, Heavenly gold and peach orange. The walls were shades of dark gray and light gray and felt wonderful to touch. The large, massive archways were rounded like a horse shoe.
Clara saw a man sitting up front, praying to the Jesus hanging on the cross, above the table where the priest would stand during masses. He wore a formal tuxedo suite as if he was going to a formal event or, sadly, a event for those no longer living. Michael dragged Clara up front to the man.
"Mr. Pennington," Michael spoke up. "I have a friend here for you." He said, blowing another breathe of cigarette into the air.
The man stood up and looked at Clara. He was taller than her, about six feet, with light auburn hair with hazel green eyes. He was slim but appeared strong to her. His eyes widened as if he was surprised and smiled. "You look an awful like my late wife, Catherine " He said. He also had a thick, English accent. "I'm Patrick Pennington."
"Clara Stranton." The young woman replied.
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Stranton."
"Mrs." Clara corrected. Patrick had given her a strange look. "I'm widowed.
"Ah, I see." He said. "Spin around, please."
Clara, as much as she wanted to run, did as he said. Slowly she turned a full circle, feeling his hazel eyes study her body up and down. She felt so...dirty.
"Take her to the back where Mrs. Franklin is." Patrick said, pulling out a watch from his pocket. "We're going to run late for dinner if we're any later."
"Yes, sir." Michael said. "Come here." He took Clara's wrist and pulled her.
"Where are we going now?" Clara asked.
"The back." He said. "Whatever they ask you, you lie."
"In a Church!?" Clara asked appalled. "I, sir, may be forced to lie outside in the world. But I do not lie inside a house of prayer."
Michael turned a corner and pinned her again the wall, slapping her cheek. Michael pulled out a knife from his inside jacket pocket and held it up to her neck. "Keep your mouth shut about the truth and lie or never see another sunrise."
Clara nodded. "Yes." She feared for her freedom being stripped, but feared the knife stabbing her more than her freedom. Either way, she died.
Clara was brought to a back room and saw several women in the back, all organizing different things. Michael tossed her inside the room and slammed the door, locking it behind her. The women looked up and saw the beautiful girl in their presents. "You must be the girl Mr. Pennington courted for some time, correct?" One women asked, a thick England accent as well.
"Y-yes." The brunette lied. She nearly cried after that. Here she was, lying in the house of God, because she wanted to live more and hope that she would be saved to see Hope Valley once more. "My name is Clara."
"Nice to meet you miss," The second woman asked, her accent was the same as Harry's. She walked up to Clara and studied her face. "You have good skin. I know the perfect colors for you."
The third woman held out a tape measure and walked up to Clara, measuring her body; her bust, her waist, and her height. "You've got a nice body, but the dress might be a bit tight for you. Better use a corset."
"A corset?" Clara asked.
It felt like forever but at the end Clara was made up. The three women admired the girl. Clara looked at her reflection. Her hair was done neatly, curls at the end, with very light makeup. She wore silver diamond earrings with a matching necklace. Her dress was white, long and laced with sleeves up to her wrists and reached an inch below her feet and dragged a bit. The veil was longer and trailed behind her.
"You must be very excited to be marrying Ms. Pennington." The first woman asked.
"Yes." Clara said. She hadn't spoken much. Most of the conversations the women made required mostly 'yes' and 'no' answers. Clara had said mostly 'yes' to the questions, but with sadness in her heart. She did not want to marry. She married once and even though she would move on one day, she still was not ready to move on these days.
There was a large knock on the door. "Is the bride ready?"
"She is!" The third woman shouted.
Clara sighed. She was Peter's bride, not Patrick's bride.
Clara waited outside the doors, waiting for the music to start, and would then walk down alone. She was alone at this moment. She could run away, hide, find a ship and go back to her home. But there were possibilities of failure in that plan and then what would happen?
The bride music began. Clara had the doors opened for her and saw that it was Patrick at the alter with the priest. She sighed and began walking down the lonely aisle. Each step she took, her freedom was being stripped. She held back the sadness, but her heart broke with each step. By the time she had reached the alter she felt her soul and heart on the edge of a cliff, dangling for life.
The priest began. "We gather here today to join the spiritual union of this man and this woman. Today they have chosen to pledge a promise before God. In becoming husband and wife you give yourselves to each other for life. You promise to be true and faithful, to support and cherish each other until death, so that your years together will be the living out in love of the pledge you now make. May your love for each other reflect the enduring love of Christ for his Church. Now as you are about to exchange your marriage vows, the Church wishes to be assured that you appreciate the meaning of what you do, and so I ask you; Have you come here of your own free will and choice and without compulsion to marry each other?"
"We have." Patrick said. He slightly looked at Clara for her answer.
"We have." She said. Her soul took a baby step off the edge, holding onto heart heart tightly.
"Will you love and honor each other in marriage all the days of your life?" The priest continued.
"We will." Patrick said.
"We will." Clara said. Her soul took another baby step off the edge, holding onto heart heart tightly.
"Are you willing to accept with love the children God may send you, and bring them up in accordance with the law of Christ and his Church?" The priest asked.
"We will." Patrick said.
"We will." Clara said. Her soul took a third baby step off the edge, holding onto heart heart tightly.
"We now will hold the exchange of the rings," The priest announced to the empty church. Clara and Patrick turned to the man and woman, each standing next to the bride and groom, and took the wedding rings. "Patrick, will you please place the ring on Clara's finger and repeat after me,"
Patrick picked up Clara's hand and held the ring near her finger. The priest said the words and Patrick repeated them after wards. "I, Patrick Pennington, take thee Clara as my wife. To love and to hold in this life and forever more. To care for you in sickness and in health, to never stray form you and to show you my love through God and show God in our marriage." He said as he placed the ring on her finger and held her hand while finishing the words.
"Clara, will you please place the ring on Patrick's finger and repeat after me,"
Clara picked up Patrick's hand and held the ring near her finger. The priest said the words and Clara repeated them after wards. Each word she said, though, burned her soul to ashes. "I, Clara Stranton, take thee Patrick as my husband. To love and to hold in this life and forever more. To care for you in sickness and in health, to never stray form you and to show you my love through God and show God in our marriage." Shes said as he placed the ring on his finger and held his hand while finishing the words. Her soul was on the very, very, very edge, clinging to her heart more tightly than ever.
"Bless this marriage and forever bless their spirits," The priest announced. "I now pronounce thee husband and wife. Patrick, you may release the veil and kiss your bride."
The auburn man smiled and he turned to his newly wife. He lifted the veil, cupped her face softly and pulled her face towards his.
Their lips connected.
Clara's soul and heart had fallen off the edge.
Oh no! Poor Clara!
Credit to the website where I found the wedding vows.