The following was inspired by characters in the 2007 BBC series Cranford, which was adapted from Cranford, Mr. Harrison's Confessions, and My Lady Ludlow, all written by Elizabeth Gaskell. Anthony Beckett is an invention of my own.
The title of course comes from a phrase in the marriage ceremony in The Book of Common Prayer. Historians and liturgists, please forgive me for any liberties I've taken with the same, in this or future chapters.
And as always, thanks to my faithful readers and reviewers, and welcome to any new ones on board. I really appreciate the feedback, interest, and support.
Oh, and the next chapter should follow this one shortly.
Chapter 30: The Secrets of All Hearts
"Shall I take a cup of tea up to Miss Smith's room, Miss Matty?"
Miss Matty considered the question, and all the tears Mary had shed the night before. Of course there was no doubt whatever about the intentions behind Martha's inquiry. Indeed, since her lying-in, she had proven fiercely loyal towards Miss Smith, and Mary's absence from the breakfast table this morning had produced a touching anxiety in Martha. Yet Matty feared that too much solicitude might bring Mary to weep again.
Now she gave Martha a reassuring smile. "Thank you, Martha, but I do not believe that will be necessary."
"If you please, ma'am, surely she's not ill?"
"Oh, no! She is quite well. It is only that we must leave her to her rest, at least for a little while."
With that Martha went off to see to the breakfast crockery, leaving Matty to exchange an uncomfortable glance with Peter, who was smiling slyly.
"Matilda, what should Deborah say to such laxity?"
"Oh, Peter, it is not laxity! Mary was greatly agitated last night, and could scarcely be persuaded to sleep."
Peter's expression grew serious. "There is no trouble at home?"
"That is entirely the problem," said Matty with a sigh. "There is trouble at home, after a fashion."
"Is it her father? The old complaint?"
"Oh, no! It is not illness. Indeed it is nothing so simple as that," said Matty, sighing once more. "And it is a matter of some delicacy."
Peter looked thoughtful. "So it is not illness," he murmured. "And yet --"
"And yet?"
"And yet I think, before this is resolved, there will be reason enough to summon a doctor." And at that Matty thought she saw just the hint of a twinkle in her brother's eye.
In time sleep had come, accompanied by dreams, and all the images and words from the previous day, and a good many others besides, seemed to remain with Mary throughout the watches of the night.
This morning she looked at her three letters again and fervently hoped that Matty's quiet reassurances should prove true, that all should seem clearer and simpler by daylight.
Mary picked up a sheet written in Clara's flowing, rather ornate script.
...I cannot but confess myself most grievously wounded that you should form an attachment and breathe not a word of it to me or your dear Papa. You are grown so secretive since you have been away! Perhaps you are ashamed of your Irishman, and fear that we would not receive him if he called upon us.
If that is so then set your mind at rest, for I have given your Papa a most particular account of Dr. Marshland's appearance and manners, and since May Day the children have been full of tales of the "Marsh-man." Your father was most interested in the former, and has been exceedingly diverted by the latter.
As to your young man's profession, why, I shall make no complaint, though I find it strange that you should be attracted by physic and not the law, especially when you are so like your Papa. But perhaps I ought not to be astonished at your choice, since you have assisted Dr. Harrison with his duties and learnt to steel yourself to the many unpleasant things that are a physician's lot...
Sighing, Mary turned to a letter in her father's neat, precise handwriting.
...I had thought you safe enough, my dear, when you went to live among those prim spinsters and widows, especially when it had seemed the only men about were the rector and that good old captain (whom I should know in a trice, you've written so often of him) and now Mr. Jenkyns. Yet the wolf will get into the fold and carry off the sheep. It is always so, and I ought not to have deluded myself on that account.
But forgive me, my dear; I know your good sense would never permit you to form any hasty or imprudent attachment. Still, I must satisfy myself that I can entrust my Mary's welfare to this fellow, if indeed he means to make you an offer. But I promise you I shall not growl too much at him, once I have him in my lair, though I mean to make him know how fiercely I should protect you...
The last letter was blotched with ink, and written in an untidy hand.
...and so your father, like any good patriarch, has summoned me, and I'm to go to his office, no doubt to give an account of myself. I promise you, Mary, I'll be as mild and humble as you like, and say sir and if you please...
Mild and humble! Poor Jack!
Still, she could well guess how he might fare with Papa, who doubtless had not the heart to take his play-acting too far and would, in the end, speak frankly but justly. Indeed he was too fair-minded to do otherwise.
And yet she remained unsettled this morning. Why was that? Why had she dared hope that she and Jack might be left to themselves, subjected to no meddling beyond receiving the occasional knowing smile from Mrs. Forrester, or endless cups of tea from Martha?
She looked again at the white rose Miss Matty had brought in from the garden. It was no longer merely budding but gloriously in bloom, its petals full and open, yet still fresh and delicate. Beautiful though it was, it pleased her that it was kept safe here, and not passed about to be admired, to have its tender petals damaged and bruised by clumsy hands, no matter how well-intentioned.
"It is well that we began stitching not long after the banns were read the first time!" said Miss Galindo, standing before the looking-glass as Jessie Gordon discreetly examined the fitted bodice and full skirt of the wedding dress.
"Indeed it is!" said Mrs. Gordon, smiling gently. "And I think we can be very pleased with our work. I have grown so fond of this shade of blue. What would you call it, Miss Galindo?"
"Periwinkle, I think."
"Periwinkle. It does look well with your complexion, and will be even lovelier with the lace her ladyship is providing."
"Yes, that was very kind of her," said Miss Galindo. She turned to Mrs. Gordon. "Especially as I have heard it whispered that I have never been seen wearing lace of any note."
"Such a thing to say! I would pay that no mind, Miss Galindo. Lace or no lace, you will look beautiful on your wedding day."
"You are very kind," said Miss Galindo, giving a dimpled smile. "I do hope Mr. Carter will be pleased," she added, glancing again at her reflection.
"He will," said Jessie firmly. "Though may I say it will be more for the pleasure of leading you to the altar than of at last seeing the wedding dress! I fear that men do not always take note of our efforts, Miss Galindo.
"But I dare say my own husband had no reason to admire anything I wore all those years he was courting me. Indeed I was at times in mourning," she said, bowing her head. She looked up again and added, with a shy smile, "Though that did not stop him from asking for my hand -- twice! But Father of course knew nothing of Major Gordon's intentions."
"Did he not?" asked Miss Galindo in wonder.
"No," said Jessie. "We neither of us breathed a word to him, and Father never guessed. It is strange, is it not, how frequently we cannot open our hearts to those whom we love most dearly, but rather remain silent, regardless of joy or sorrow."
"That is certainly true. I confess I have discovered as much during my brief engagement to Mr. Carter, " said Miss Galindo, adding, with a wry smile, "even though we have for the most part been wont to speak frankly with each other."
"Mr. Carter is most forthright and honest," agreed Mrs. Gordon. "I know my father admires him very much, for all that it at one time appeared to me they were rivals."
At Miss Galindo's startled expression, Jessie continued, blushing, "I once thought that you might become my stepmother. It was plain that Father had a high opinion of you, and I fancied he was paying you a good deal of attention and would perhaps in time even make a proposal. But I did not see that his regard for you was that of a friend and neighbor.
"I hope you do not take offense at my speaking so frankly."
"Not at all," said Miss Galindo gently. " Your father is the kindest of men, so much so that I too at times misinterpreted his acts of neighborliness."
Jessie smiled with gratitude. "I do not feel so very foolish, then.
"But I do wish Father might marry again. Indeed I should have been delighted to see him wed you, if that had been your wish and his," she said shyly. "Then I should have known that --"
At that moment Mrs. Gordon's maid entered the room. "Miss Smith to see you, madam," she said.
Mary Smith, her face flushed, her arms full of parcels, curtsied before them. "I must beg your forgiveness for my delay." Then she looked fully at Miss Galindo, who stood there yet in wedding dress and bonnet. "Oh!" Neither Mrs. Gordon nor Miss Galindo had ever seen Miss Smith so agreeably startled.
"Miss Galindo, that is indeed a most exquisite gown. Jessie, you have outdone yourselves."
"That is very kind of you, Miss Smith," said Miss Galindo, dimpling.
"I can at once imagine you before the church door, your arms filled with flowers, " said Mary almost wistfully. "You will have roses, will you not, on the day itself?"
"I shall. Lady Ludlow has very kindly offered the finest blooms from Hanbury, and it has been so warm of late, you know, that there is no dearth of flowers."
"Miss Matty is eager to see what you will choose. A bride must have flowers, she says -- and also a pocket-handkerchief besides,"added Mary impishly, handing a little parcel to Miss Galindo. "She wished you to have these as well."
"Dear Miss Matty," began Miss Galindo, looking very much as though she might shed a few happy tears at that moment.
"But that is by no means all," said Miss Smith, turning again to her parcels. "I have brought you --"
All at once the maid returned to the room. "If you please, ma'am, Mr. Carter is here."
"Mr. Carter! Why, I thought it was too early." Miss Galindo lifted off her new bonnet and placed it in its box. "I must make haste. He is to convey me back to Hanbury --"
"Miss Galindo, it is entirely my fault that you have been delayed," said Miss Smith. "Allow me to assist you now, as I was not here to help earlier."
"And I shall engage Mr. Carter in conversation until you are ready," said Jessie, vanishing out the door, and leaving the other two ladies to prepare the wedding finery for its transfer to Hanbury.
"It is almost a shame you must lay off your gown and wrap it in tissue," said Mary, helping Miss Galindo to undo the many buttons. "It suits you very well, and you look just as a bride ought."
"That is very kind of you, Miss Smith," said Miss Galindo. "Though perhaps I am no typical bride. I dare say no one, including myself, might have foreseen this turn of events even a twelvemonth ago!"
"Did you never think to marry?" asked Mary conversationally.
"When I was a girl, yes, and of course my mother had her heart set on my doing so. But I had such ideas," said Miss Galindo. She turned to Mary and smiled wryly. "I dare say Mama had more tempered notions of what a good match should be, and thought me both incautious and overly imaginative. But I knew better, of course." She rolled her eyes. "And was quite enamored of all my castles in the air." Mary smiled in understanding.
"Time had its way of humbling one, though," continued Miss Galindo. "And I do not see things as I once did."
"Still, I hope you have abandoned neither your ideals nor your imagination, Miss Galindo" said Miss Smith warmly.
"Oh, surely not," said Miss Galindo. "But my old notions of happiness seem quaint now, indeed inadequate. I could never have conjured up a Mr. Carter; he is so different from my imaginary lovers, but wonderfully so. And it is of course such a comfort that he is real," she added, with a smile so endearingly pert that her companion laughed aloud. "I much prefer my Edward, with his blunt words and good brown coat, to any hero in the pages of a novel.
"And I should not like to think," she added, all at once serious, "of what might have been if -- well, you of all people will understand at once what I mean."
"Yes," said Miss Smith softly. She bent to smooth the fabric of the wedding dress. "Miss Galindo, may I ask your advice?"
"My advice!" said Miss Galindo, pausing as she arranged the sleeves of the dress she was wearing to Hanbury. "That is indeed unusual. Of late a good many ladies have offered to advise me, but no one has sought my counsel in return."
At that Mary smiled. "I fear a bride must expect as much, especially in Cranford."
"Yes, and a good deal more besides," said Miss Galindo, returning the smile."She must also resign herself to serving as an uncommonly diverting topic of discussion."
"That is true as well, though perhaps it would be kinder to leave you and Mr. Carter in peace," said Miss Smith.
"To speak truth, I believe that without the efforts of our friends and acquaintances, I should not be marrying Mr. Carter at all," said Miss Galindo. "Indeed we should never have met, let alone come to know each other so well, were it not for -- oh, forgive me, Miss Smith. I quite forgot that you wished to ask my advice. Do put to me your question, and I shall try my best to answer."
"There is no need," said Mary softly. "I think you have already said what I needed most to hear."
"Are you thinking of your own wedding?" asked Mary as she and Jessie watched Miss Galindo and Mr. Carter depart in the direction of Hanbury Court.
"Of my own -- why, no indeed," said Jessie, who had been looking decidedly wistful. "I was just -- Mary, have you time to take tea?"
"Yes. Yes, of course."
"I should so like to speak to a friend just now."
"I am sorry, Mary."
"Jessie, there is no need to make apology."
"You must think me very silly indeed."
"I think no such thing," said Mary softly.
"I ought to be happy," said Jessie, looking very displeased with herself. "Indeed I should be grateful at all the good things that are coming to pass."
"But I do not think, Jessie, that anyone could fault you for your tears," said Mary kindly. "They are entirely natural."
"Mary, I cannot help but dread leaving Father." Jessie's tears began afresh. "First Mother, then my sister, and now I am leaving him alone in this little house. I do not know how he will bear it."
"But I am certain it comforts him greatly to know that you will be happily settled in your own home," said Mary, speaking in the reassuring tone she often employed with Miss Matty. "And you have now proved the value of his efforts with the railway. Think how happy we all shall be when the train brings your letters from Scotland, and of course you and the major and your child to visit Grandfather at Cranford."
"My child." Jessie, her tears now subsiding, looked back at her friend. "Mary, might I ask a favor of you?"
"Why, yes."
"When my time comes, will you stay with me? And will you assist Dr. Harrison when he is called?"
"Of course I will, Jessie," said Mary warmly.
"Thank you, Mary. That knowledge gives me great comfort." Jessie looked down at her teacup. "I am still very much afraid." But there was hopefulness in her eyes as she turned again to Mary. "It was not so very dreadful with Martha, was it?"
Mary smiled. "No. No, it was not so very dreadful."
"It is strange, is it not," said Laurie. "That at the very time we are to be joined together, so many people, and indeed things, should demand our attention!"
Edward glanced at her before turning his attention back to the road before them. "I hope you have no regrets, Laurie."
"Regrets?" She slipped her arm tenderly through his. "Of course I do not have regrets."
Edward turned to her again, this time to smile. "I did not mean regrets about marrying me, though of course that may be so as well! No, I meant that perhaps you might have liked a longer engagement, a grander wedding, and a honeymoon trip. Or perhaps you should have preferred to marry very simply indeed, rather than before the eyes of relatives and friends and Hanbury staff."
"I am not accustomed to such attention, nor, I dare say, are you," said Laurie. "I do not know when I have had so many people engage me in conversation! But if it is unsettling to be subjected to such scrutiny, it is heartening as well, for everyone is full of praise for your character and worth, and ready to offer me assistance and advice."
"Advice! What need have you of advice?"
"Edward, I have no mother and sisters to instruct me."
"No," he said thoughtfully. "We are both of us quite alone -- well, almost."
"Not nearly alone as you might think. A great many friends and acquaintances have been advising me."
"Many?"
"Lady Ludlow, for one. She was of course all dignity and discretion, yet nonetheless frank regarding the duties of a wife. I believe she felt an obligation to my mother to act in her stead.
"But if Lady Ludlow freely offered her counsel, I sought Mrs. Morgan's. You will of course understand why, Edward. She has twice been wed, and to physicians both times!"
"And was she helpful?"
Laurie smiled to herself. It was only with many blushes that Isobel Morgan made reply to all the questions put to her, and it was well that neither Dr. Morgan nor the housemaid had been within earshot during the conversation.
"She knows what a happy marriage is, Edward. And if she is unassuming and at times shy, she is also wise. She said I must speak to you about any worries or concerns I had --"
"That was wise!"
"And she said you would understand I have not been married before, and that you would be infinitely patient and tender."
"Mm." That sounded very well.
"But of course I do not expect that."
He was taken aback. "Laurie, I --"
Then he saw she was teasing him again. "Edward, no one who knows you expects infinite patience, and I confess I would be disappointed if you made no claims or demands on me, as affection dictates."
"Then I will try not to disappoint you."
"And I promise to leave you in no doubt of all I feel for you." They rode on in silence for a few moments before she spoke again.
"Mrs. Forrester said a wife must be generous in her affections, even after a quarrel, perhaps especially after a quarrel! I own I know not what to make of that."
"I do," said Edward, casting a sidelong glance at her, and drawing a blush. Perhaps Mrs. Forrester too was wiser than she had at first seemed.
"And Miss Pole says --"
"Miss Pole!" said Edward, aghast. "But she's never been married."
"Neither have I, Edward," said Laurie dryly. "Do you think that because Miss Pole has never had a husband, she ought not to have an opinion?"
"Of course not. It is only that she at times speaks more strongly than correctly."
"Besides, it would seem Miss Pole thinks quite as well of you as does Mrs. Forrester."
Edward snorted at that.
"No, it is true. Miss Pole said Harry was a credit to you."
"Did she?"
"Indeed she did. She said the boy was uncommonly improved, and that was proof enough that the ladies of the village ought to give ear to your plan for the school."
Imagine that! Perhaps Miss Pole too was wiser than she had at first seemed.
"And she said that under my tutelage you might yet temper your masculine ways."
"I do have regrets, Laurie," said Edward as they came within view of Hanbury Court.
"Do you?" said Laurie, unconsciously stroking his arm.
"Yes. I really ought to have planned better and arranged to take you away -- perhaps to the seaside, or Scotland, or even abroad."
"Edward, I do not need to make a tour, any more than I need a fashionable wedding. It is marriage to you that I desire."
"Oh, do not misunderstand me. There is no one I wish to impress but you. It is only that I should very much like for us to spend several days alone." Edward smiled to himself. "And perhaps traveling, at that. Indeed I should like someday to visit London with you, and I dare say you will make much better company than did Beckett!"
"Poor Anthony!" Laurie giggled. "Yes, I should like very much to travel with you one day. But even if we are not leaving on a wedding trip, perhaps we can make a holiday at home."
"I do not see how, when I have all my usual duties."
"I do not mean for you to neglect your duties. Indeed the both of us will have a good deal to engage us now. But perhaps we should treat home as our refuge."
Edward smiled. "I thought that was to be my study."
"Upon my word, Edward, I should have thought your office at Hanbury refuge enough for you now! Talking of which, do you recall that Sunday afternoon we spent there together? I mean after Harry left."
"I remember everything," he said, smiling again.
"It was raining, and so bitterly cold, and I could scarcely bear to step outdoors once more. You took me in your arms, and I felt as safe and warm as ever I have at any hearthside.
"And that is how I shall always think of you -- as my hearth. My refuge."
The sky was by no means cloudless sky on the day of the wedding itself, and yet there was sunshine, a good deal of it, and it was altogether as pretty a day as anyone might have wished.
Mr. Carter was up before the sun itself, and made a manful effort at the breakfast his housekeeper set out, then turned to the business of preparing to go to church. He had only just pulled on his coat when Harry Gregson, face shining from its early-morning scrubbing, boots gleaming from the blacking brush, appeared on the doorstep.
"Good lad!" said Mr. Carter. "I knew you'd arrive in plenty of time."
"Of course, sir. I promised Miss Galindo I'd see you to church."
"As if I'd lie abed this morning of all mornings! Now where is Beckett? Surely he's not going to be chasing through the village when we're all standing before the altar -- "
"Here he comes now, sir," said Harry opening the door to Anthony Beckett, who was dressed all in his best and carrying a case in his arms.
"Thank God. I'd begun to think you'd forgotten the day."
"Calm yourself, Mr. Carter. You're not to be at the church for a good while yet, and we've plenty of time to make you presentable," said Mr. Beckett, unpacking his barber's tools.
"'Presentable'? I do hope you have spectacles in that case, Beckett, for you are sorely in need of them."
"No, I can see very well what a fine coat you have on. But you must take it off -- lend me a hand with this, Harry -- and put it aside while I --"
"Beckett, I've thought the better of this. There is no need to cut my hair."
"No need? Do you mean to go to church looking like a bear?" Beckett turned again to the boy. "What do you think, Harry? Won't Miss Galindo be frightened and run the other way when she sees what is waiting for her?"
Mr. Carter fixed his eye on the boy, who could not be certain if he was seeking his opinion or daring him to speak.
"You said a man must always show a lady respect," began Harry.
Mr. Carter, recognizing defeat, sighed. "Very well. But mind you be quick about it." He surrendered his coat and allowed himself to be seated in the chair Mr. Beckett had drawn up.
"There's no need to be quick about it. We've plenty of time, and I mean to do this proper. Harry, fetch some hot water from the housekeeper, will you?" said Beckett.
"And ask Mrs. Greenfield to give you some breakfast," called out Mr. Carter.
"Thank you, sir, but I couldn't eat a thing," said Harry with a grin, before running out of the room.
"Now then, Mr. Carter, calm yourself, and we'll set to work," said Mr. Beckett, taking up a pair of scissors.
"Beckett, you must stop telling me that. I am perfectly calm."
"Yes, sir," said Mr. Beckett, with a smile that suggested he did not agree.
"Indeed there is no reason to be otherwise. I'm getting wed today, Beckett, not hanged."
"Yes. Well, Dad would say the one was as sure a fate as the other! Now you must sit very still while I make you fit to be seen, let alone wed," said Beckett.
By the time Captain Brown had arrived Mr. Beckett, assisted by Harry, was more than halfway through the process of making Mr. Carter presentable, despite the bridegroom's occasional protests.
"You didn't used to be given to grumbling and growling, Mr. Carter," said Beckett, expertly wielding the razor. "I do hope you are in a better humor when you arrive at the church."
"And if you are not, we shall counsel Miss Galindo to reconsider her decision," added Captain Brown.
Mr. Carter was about to make reply, thought the better of it, and remained silent throughout the rest of the procedure, as Beckett and the captain exchanged a conspiratorial smile.
"There now, I've done my best," said Beckett at last, taking a step backwards to admire his work.
Mr. Carter turned to face to Harry. "What do you think, Harry? Am I fit to wed?"
The boy grinned. "Oh, yes, sir. Miss Galindo will like you very well indeed."
Mr. Beckett had been entirely correct; there had been more than enough time for them to make the bridegroom presentable -- and indeed to leave him more restless than before.
"I do not know why we did not think to accompany the ladies to church," said Mr. Carter now. "After all, we are on the grounds of Hanbury, and now we might simply proceed up to the house --"
"There's no sense in going over there, Carter," said Captain Brown. "They'd just send you away, if only to keep you from underfoot. Besides, you would not want to attempt it. I have confronted the enemy in battle, and I have faced a group of ladies preparing for a wedding, and I need not tell you which prospect strikes greater fear in my heart."
"I'll send Laurie a note, then," said Mr. Carter stubbornly, going for pen and ink.
"Indeed you shall not, my friend," said Captain Brown, fairly pursuing Mr. Carter into his study. "Let it be --"
"I'll take it, Mr. Carter," said Harry loyally, standing beside the desk as Mr. Carter began writing, and Captain Brown loomed over the both of them.
"Carter, if you send a note, the first thing they will think is that something is wrong," he said, very nearly reaching the limits of his patience.
At that Mr. Carter added a couple of lines to the half-page he had already completed. He paused a moment, then wrote a bit more before signing his name and briskly folding up the note. As he stood to hand the paper to Harry, he thought of something else.
"You'll bring her answer, if she writes one?"
"Of course sir." All at once Harry looked worried. "You won't go to church without me?"
"By no means!" said Mr. Carter firmly. "We'll wait for you."
"But you must make haste, Harry," said the captain, taking on some of the bridegroom's agitation.
"Go on now," said Mr. Carter, smiling softly. "And Harry --"
"Yes, sir?" said the boy, turning to look back.
"You are not to read that note. Understood?"
Harry grinned. "I wouldn't dare!"
"Laurentia, you must calm yourself." Mrs. Morgan, resplendent in mauve, hovered over the shoulder of the bride, who stood, still clad in her dressing-gown, and stared helplessly at the wedding clothes arranged carefully about the room.
"Forgive me, Isobel," said Miss Galindo. "But I do not think anyone or anything could calm me just now."
"Nonsense, Laurentia. We have only to think of the task at hand, or rather one task at a time, my dear. First your petticoats and then --"
"Will my hair suit, do you think?" said Miss Galindo, turning again to the mirror and putting a hand up to the back of her head. "I should not like to be --"
"Your hair looks very charming as it is; we must not spoil it," said Mrs. Morgan, patting her on the shoulder. "Now then, let us --"
At that moment a maidservant entered the room, curtsied before the two ladies, and offered Miss Galindo a note on a tray. "If you please, madam, this just arrived for you."
"Oh!" cried Mrs. Morgan before she could stop herself. She watched as her friend seized the note, unfolded it, and began reading. "Surely it is not --"
But Miss Galindo was smiling, for all that there were the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "It is from Edward, of course."
"Oh," said Mrs. Morgan, calmly this time.
"You will understand of course that I cannot read it aloud." Miss Galindo turned to the maid. "Is Harry Gregson still here?"
"If you please, madam, he said he wouldn't leave until he received your reply, if you have one."
"And I do!" said Laurie. "I must have a pen and ink, and a bit of paper."
"Laurentia, dear, there isn't time for such things," said Mrs. Morgan, uncharacteristically close to exasperation.
"Please. I must make some reply to Edward's message!"
"Very well," sighed Mrs. Morgan. "Only do make haste."
Miss Galindo was smiling to herself as she bent over the desk and began writing swiftly. With a decided flourish she signed her name, then folded up the paper.
"Give this to Harry," she said, offering her dimpled smile to the servant, along with the note. "And tell him he is not to read it!"
She turned again to Mrs. Morgan. "Well, Isobel," she said, somehow relieved and excited all at once. "Shall we attempt to make me presentable?"
They would wait outside, Mr. Carter had decided. Rather than lurking up near the altar, and trying Reverend Hutton's patience past bearing, they would assemble outdoors and await the arrival of her ladyship's carriages.
And so it was that Captain Brown, Mr. Beckett, Harry Gregson, and Mr. Carter himself were all standing in the bright May sunshine as Dr. Jack Marshland, who'd made a late start from Manchester and taken a bit of time stabling his horse, came towards the church at a run.
As flustered as he was breathless, Jack bowed to everyone, including Harry.
"What time do you call this now, Dr. Marshland?" said Captain Brown, who had recovered some of his usual good humor. "Five more minutes and you'd have been chasing the bride to the altar!"
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Carter," said Jack, still fairly gasping for breath.
"Now then, Marshland, there is no need to beg pardon. You've arrived just in time." Mr. Carter turned to Beckett. "Surely we can find a seat for Dr. Marshland within."
At that the captain clapped a hand on Beckett's shoulder and said in his ear, more loudly than was necessary, "One by the Jenkynses and Miss Smith, I should think, Mr. Beckett."
"Of course," said Beckett, no longer certain what was going on. He turned to the Irishman. "Follow me, sir."
Lady Ludlow and Laurentia's aunt and uncle, easily the eldest of the party that set out that morning from Hanbury, were also by far the calmest. Indeed her ladyship, if anything, was as serene as ever she'd been. It had been a good while since she'd had such cause for joy, and evidently she meant to give herself wholly to it.
Laurentia too was very happy as they made their way to the church, though her joy, unlike Lady Ludlow's, was touched with not a little agitation. And by now Jessie Gordon, Isobel Morgan, and even Dr. Morgan himself had caught some of her excitement, and had been exchanging nervous smiles during the carriage ride.
As the church came into view Laurie again felt a frisson of pleasure and fear pass through her.
And then she saw him.
He was standing with the other men, and with Harry, of course, all of them dressed in their best, but he might just as well have been alone, for she noticed neither Captain Brown's genial smile nor the wonder in Harry's eyes as he caught sight of the grand carriages. Her eyes were on Edward, dear Edward, so comfortingly familiar and yet so transformed. Indeed he looked startlingly youthful, even boyish.
He had caught sight of them now as well and for a moment stood gazing towards the oncoming carriages, then moved swiftly forward, with Captain Brown, Harry, and Mr. Beckett directly behind him. There was a little flurry of activity as the ladies were handed down. Laurie was at once aware of what seemed a great many people milling about, and then she was standing before Edward himself.
"Oh, Edward," she murmured, taking in the sight of him. He had put on a dark blue coat and waistcoat, and grey breeches, and in the late morning light he looked ruddy and vital and handsome.
For what seemed a very long time she could do nothing more but look into his eyes -- such an indefinably beautiful color they were. Then at last someone -- perhaps her uncle, maybe Dr. Morgan -- said, sotto voce, "I think we ought to proceed into the church."
"Wait." Laurie drew a rosebud, a delicate pink rosebud, from her bouquet and held it in her hand for a moment, then looked up again into Edward's eyes. Handing her bouquet to Jessie, she took the little rose and fastened it in Edward's lapel, her hand resting for a moment on his chest.
He laid his hand over hers. "Laurie," he said softly, his voice warm and dark. "Let us go now."
She looked up at him again. "Yes."
To be continued...