8
Victoria dropped her roses and covered her mouth with both hands, stifling a scream. Victor stood frozen, transfixed, his mouth hanging open. One moment the dead woman was standing there. The next her eyes filmed over white and rolled back into her head. Her blue flesh appeared to shrivel, pulling away from her teeth. All at once her brittle bones gave way and fell into a heap on the floor, all tangled up in her wedding gown and veil.
A dreadful silence fell. Victoria could only hear her heart pounding in her ears.
At last Pastor Galswells stood and leaned over his desk for a better look. Gently he prodded at the corpse with the very end of his staff. Victoria wanted to tell him to stop. Then he remarked, "Had I known that was all that needed to be said, I could have resolved this much earlier."
A thunderous knocking echoed through the room, making them all jump. It took Victoria a moment to realize that it was coming from the church doors. Their parents and guests were growing impatient. She had forgotten all about them.
"Quickly," said Pastor Galswells, glancing at the closed door of his study. "This has taken long enough."
"What shall we...?" Victoria asked faintly, staring down at the pile of old bones and rotted cloth that had just lately been up and talking.
"In that chest, Master Van Dort," said Pastor Galswells, directing Victor to a small trunk in the corner, "is a damaged altar cloth I've been meaning to dispose of. Wrap it up in that."
Victoria frowned. "It." Not five minutes ago the dead woman had been "Miss." In the space of a breath a person had been reduced to mere remains. Just a pile of old bones. Victoria's throat grew a little tight.
The pastor shuffled to the door and opened it. The knocking was louder, more insistent. Victoria imagined her father and Victor's using the enormous iron door handles to knock with all their might. She imagined their mothers, growing more furious and impatient and embarrassed by the moment. She imagined the wedding breakfast back at her house. The flowers wilting, the food drying out and growing cold.
"I will let them in," Pastor Galswells announced. He spared a look for the bones on the floor. "Cover those up, I will deal with them later. And then go directly to the altar."
Orders given, the pastor slipped out and shut the door behind him. The altar. Her wedding day. Somehow it did not seem right. Not after what had just transpired.
Victor stepped up beside her with the ragged and faded gold cloth. "Will this be big enough?" he asked. He was frowning, too, obviously troubled as he looked down at the bones. "It's...I mean...she's small now, but..."
"Let me," Victoria said, reaching for the cloth. Victor handed it over wordlessly. When she knelt beside the bones, he dropped to his knees next to her. They smoothed out the cloth on the floor.
After only a moment's hesitation, Victoria gathered up the bones in her arms. She was surprised by how light they were. Like a bundle of feathers. With tenderness and great care, she nestled the dead woman's skull in the crook of one arm. Brittle hair and dead flowers crackled and crunched despite her gentle movements. Victor, his mouth set and his eyes sad, gathered up what Victoria couldn't entirely manage to hold. Together they moved the bones to the altar cloth. As they set them down, the woman's skeletal hand jostled loose, coming to rest by Victor's knee.
The wedding band still rested on the dead bride's finger. Victoria watched as Victor picked up the hand and held it, just for a moment, in both of his own. He set it down carefully on what remained of the dead woman's middle.
"Let's let her keep it," he said in a near-whisper. Victoria nodded in agreement. One more look, and then they wrapped the bones in the altar-cloth shroud as gently as they could.
When they were finished, the bundle was very small. Impossibly small. Heartbreakingly small. Unsure of what else to do, they simply left it on the floor. Victor stood, then helped Victoria to her feet. Then, to her pleasure, he drew her into his arms. Victoria wrapped her arms about him and pressed her face against his chest. He rested his chin upon her head.
"I managed to ruin it after all," he said dolefully. "Our wedding. And I certainly ruined her day."
They pulled apart a little to look down at the carefully shrouded bones. Victoria ran a comforting hand across his back.
"Our wedding hasn't happened yet," she reminded him, leaving the second half of his thought alone. She thought of the look the corpse bride had given her, just before the life had left her. She felt another pierce in her heart at the mere memory.
"Well, this has put a bit of a damper on it, at least," he replied.
"Perhaps a little," Victoria admitted.
Voices and footsteps could be heard now from the nave. The guests were filtering in. Mother's voice could be heard above them, though Victoria could not make out her words. Likely wondering where the two of them were. Reluctantly she pulled away, though not before squeezing his hand reassuringly.
"I'm sorry about your flowers," Victor said, spying them on the floor by the desk. When he picked them up a shower of petals fell. Only a few of the red roses were still pristine. Most were broken stems. Victoria plucked the whole roses from the bouquet and set them on the dead bride's remains. It seemed wrong not to do something.
"We cannot leave her here," she said as she straightened up. "On the floor. It doesn't feel right." And, she wondered now, how precisely did Pastor Galswells intend to "deal with" her? Another shallow grave? A dustbin?
Victor set the broken flowers on the desk and then scratched at the back of his neck. "It doesn't," he agreed. "But what could we-"
The door flew open, and Pastor Galswells glowered at them. Behind him stood Mother and Father and the Van Dorts, all of them looking confused and irritated and put-upon. Father was looking pointedly at his watch. Victoria stepped to one side just a little, so that the shrouded corpse was shielded from view.
"Have you quite finished?" the pastor asked. Then he raised an eyebrow and added meaningfully, "With the prayers I set you?"
Victor and Victoria shared a look. "Er, yes. Yes, sir," Victor said.
"Then come along at once."
Slowly, arm in arm, they followed the pastor out of the study. When they were sure their parents were not looking, they glanced over their shoulders at the bundle on the floor with no small amount of guilt.