by David Weber
"And just which strings are being pulled?" she asked more warily, looking back at Hamish and Emily.
"What it comes down to, Honor," Emily said, "is that, just as we'd feared, the news about your pregnancy-and mine-has gotten back to Grayson. It's already started to die down a bit here in the Star Kingdom, actually. Especially," a bubble of pure, malicious delight danced in her mind-glow, "since the Landing Tattler's new management discovered certain irregularities in Solomon Hayes' financial records and let him go. I believe he's currently discussing those irregularities with the LCPD and the Exchequer.
"But," the brief flicker of amusement faded, "the situation on Grayson was about what you and I had feared it might be. In fact, a delegation of Steadholders called on the Reverend to discuss their... concerns."
Her mouth tightened bleakly for a moment, then she flipped her right hand in a shrug.
"Needless to say, Reverend Sullivan supported your position strongly," Honor glanced at Sullivan, who bent his head gravely in response to the gratitude in her eyes, "but it was clear some of them-especially Steadholder Mueller, I understand-are prepared to use this situation to attack you as publicly as possible. So the Reverend decided to take matters into his own hands, pastorally speaking."
Emily paused, and Reverend Sullivan looked at Honor.
"In some ways, My Lady," he said, "I suppose my decision to involve myself in such a deeply personal matter must be considered intrusive, especially since none of you are communicants of the Church of Humanity Unchained, and I hope I haven't offended by doing so. I might argue that my position as Reverend and First Elder and head of the Sacristy, and the constitutional obligations of those offices, give me a responsibility to involve myself, but that would be less than fully honest of me. The truth is," he looked directly into her eyes, and she tasted his utter sincerity, "that my own heart would have driven me to speak, were I Reverend or not. You, as a person, not simply as Steadholder Harrington, are important to far too many people on Grayson, myself included, for me to do otherwise."
"Reverend, I-" Honor paused and cleared her throat. "I can think of many things people could do which I might find offensive. Having you take a hand to help in a situation like this certainly isn't one of them."
"Thank you. I hope you'll still feel that way in a few minutes."
Despite the ominous words, there was a very faint gleam in his eye, and Honor frowned in puzzlement.
"The thing is, Honor," Emily continued, reclaiming her attention, "the Reverend's come up with a solution for all our problems. Every one of them."
"He's what?" Both of Honor's eyebrows rose, and she looked back and forth between Sullivan, Hamish and Emily, and her parents. "That's... hard to believe."
"Not really," Emily said, with a sudden, huge smile and a matching internal swell of delight. "You see, Honor, all you have to do is answer one question."
"One question?"
Honor blinked as her eyes prickled suddenly and unexpectedly. She didn't even know why-just that the joy inside Emily had reached out and blended with a matching tide of joyous anticipation from Hamish into something so strong, so exuberant and yet so intensely focused on her, that her own emotions literally couldn't help responding to it.
"Yes," Emily said softly. "Honor, will you marry Hamish and me?"
For an instant that seemed an eternity Honor simply stared at her. Then it penetrated, and she jerked upright in her comfortable chair.
"Marry you?" Her voice trembled. "Marry both of you? Are... are you serious?"
"Of course we are," Hamish said quietly, while Samantha purred from the high chair beside him as if the bones were about to vibrate right out of her body. "And if anyone can be certain of that," he added, "you can."
"But... but..." Honor looked at Archbishop Telmachi and Father O'Donnell, finally understanding why they were both here. "But I thought your marriage vows made that impossible," she said hoarsely.
"If I may, My Lord?" Telmachi said gently, looking at Hamish, and Hamish nodded.
"Your Grace," the Archbishop continued, turning to Honor, "Mother Church has learned a great deal over the millennia. Many things about human beings and their spiritual needs never change, and God, of course, is always constant. But the context in which those humans confront their spiritual needs does change. The rules evolved to handle those needs in a pre-industrial, pre-space civilization simply cannot be applied to the galaxy in which we live today, any more than could the one-time religious ratification of slavery, or of the denial of the rights of women, or the prohibition of women in the priesthood, or the marriage of priests.
"Hamish and Emily chose to wed monogamously. The Church didn't require that of them, for we've learned that what truly matters is the love between partners, the union which makes it a true marriage, and not simply a convenience of the flesh. But that was their decision, and at the time, I believe it was the proper one for them. Certainly, anyone looking at them or speaking with them today, after all their marriage has endured, can still see the love and mutual commitment they share.
"But we live in an era of prolong, when men and women live literally for centuries. Just as Mother Church was eventually forced to deal with the tangled problems of genetic engineering and of cloning, she's been forced to acknowledge that when individuals live that long, the likelihood that even binding decisions must be revisited increases sharply.
"The Church doesn't look lightly upon the modification of wedding vows. Marriage is a solemn and a holy state, a sacrament ordained by God. But ours is a loving and an understanding God, and such a God wouldn't punish people to whom He's given the joyous gift of a love as deep as that which binds you, Hamish, and Emily together by forcing you to remain apart. And because the Church believes that, the Church has made provision for the modification of those vows, so long as all parties are in agreement and there's no coercion, no betrayal. I've spoken with Hamish and Emily. I have no question in my mind that they would welcome you into their marriage with unqualified joy. The only question which must be answered before I grant the necessary dispensation is whether or not that's what you most truly and deeply desire."
"I-" Honor's vision wavered, and she blinked back tears. "Of course it's what I desire," she said huskily. "Of course it is! I just never thought, never expected-"
"Forgive me for suggesting it, dear," her mother said gently, rising from her chair to fold her arms about her seated daughter, "but sometimes, much as I love you, you can be just a tiny bit slow."
Honor gurgled with tearful laughter and hugged her mother tightly.
"I know. I know! If I'd ever thought for a minute-" She broke off and looked at Hamish and Emily through her tears. "Of course I'll marry you, both of you! My God, of course I will!"
"Good," Reverend Sullivan said, and smiled when Honor turned to look at him. "It just happens that Robert, here," he waved one hand at Telmachi, "has already granted the necessary dispensation, contingent upon your acceptance of the idea. And it also just happens that Father O'Donnell, here, has brought along his prayerbook and a special license, and that I happen to know the Alexander family chapel just happens to have been given a most thorough cleaning this morning. And it just so happens that at this particular moment there's a representative of Father Church here on Manticore to serve as the temporal witness required for any steadholder's marriage. So since the bride's family," he bowed to include Nimitz and Samantha in that family, "are present, I don't really see any reason why we couldn't get this little formality out of the way tonight."
"Tonight?" Honor stared at him.
"Indeed," he replied calmly. "Unless, of course, you had other plans?"
"Of course I had-!"
Honor chopped herself off, torn between laughter, more tears, and a sense of the entire universe whirling further and further out of control.
"What?" her mother demanded, still hugging her. "You want a big fancy, formal wedding? Piffle! You can always have that later, if you really feel the need, but a
ll that hoopla isn't what makes a marriage-or even a wedding. And even if it were, I'd think having the Archbishop and the Reverend assist in the ceremony should satisfy even the highest social stickler!"
"It isn't that, and you know it!" Honor half-laughed, giving her mother a shake. "It's just all moving so quickly. I hadn't even considered it ten minutes ago, and now-!"
"Well, it's something you ought to have considered long ago, My Lady," Sullivan said with twinkle-eyed severity. "After all, you are a Grayson. And if you think I'm going to permit you and this man-" he jabbed a finger at Hamish "-to spend one more night cavorting in sin, then you have another think coming."
He waved the jabbing finger at Honor, smiling as she simultaneously laughed and blushed.
"All right. All right! You win, all of you. But before we get to the 'I do's, we've got to get Miranda and Mac out here. I can't get married without them!"
"Now that," Allison congratulated her, "is the first reasonable objection you've raised all night. And, as the Reverend is fond of saying, it just so happens I sent Jeremiah back to fetch them-and Farragut and the twins-about the time we sat down to dinner. They should be here in-" she checked her chrono "-another thirty minutes or so. So," she cupped Honor's face between her hands, and her own smile was just a little misty, "why don't you and I spend the time between now and then making you even more beautiful, love?"
Chapter Thirty-One
Admiral Lady Dame Honor Alexander-Harrington, Duchess and Steadholder Harrington (and possibly-Hamish wasn't certain exactly how it would work out-Countess White Haven), walked across the shuttle pad lounge in a euphoric haze.
Being married was going to take some getting used to. This floating feeling of joy and relaxation-the knowledge that she'd truly come home at last-was worth any price, yet she already foresaw all sorts of problems on Grayson, once news of the marriage became public. Grayson conventions denoting marital status all assumed the husband's surname would be adopted by all of his wives. But those same conventions had also always assumed any steadholder would be male, and she had a pretty shrewd notion the Conclave of Steadholders wouldn't take kindly to the notion of changing the Harrington Dynasty to the Alexander Dynasty in the very first generation of the Steading. Plus, of course, the fact that they were going to have to deal with the fact that the Steadholder was the junior wife of a man who stood completely outside the succession.
Personally, she was rather looking forward to watching her fellow steadholders work their way through the problems. It would do their residually patriarchal little hearts good, she thought as she counted noses in her travel party. Then she frowned, as she came up a nose short.
"Wasn't Tim supposed to hop back up with us?" she asked MacGuiness.
"Yes, he was, My Lady." MacGuiness shook his head with an irritated expression. "But he screened last night, and I forgot to tell you. He'll be catching the next shuttle flight back. Something about his younger sister's birthday, I believe. Technically, he's got another thirty-six hours before he's due to report back aboard, so I told him I didn't think there'd be any problem."
"Oh." Honor rubbed the tip of her nose for a moment, then shrugged. "You were right, of course. And goodness knows a birthday party's more important-and probably a lot more fun-than riding back to the flagship with a stodgy old flag officer."
"Nonsense, My Lady," MacGuiness said with an absolutely straight face. "I'm sure he doesn't think of you as old."
"And you, Mac, may not get a lot older," she told him with a smile.
"I'm terrified, Your Grace," he said sedately.
* * *
"You did what?" Michelle Henke asked, staring at Honor.
"I said that while I was back on Manticore and didn't have anything better to do, I went ahead and got married," Honor repeated with a huge smile. "It... seemed like the thing to do."
She shrugged, and Nimitz bleeked with laughter on her shoulder as the two of them enjoyed Henke's poleaxed mind-glow.
"But... but... but-"
"Mike, you sound like one of those antique motorboats Uncle Jacques and his SCA buddies play with."
Henke closed her mouth, and her stunned expression began to transform itself into one of outrage.
"You married Hamish Alexander-and his wife-and you didn't even invite me?!"
"Mike, I almost didn't get invited," Honor said. "Reverend Sullivan, Archbishop Telmachi, my mother, Hamish and Emily-I think about thirty percent of the entire population of Manticore!-knew about it before anybody bothered to tell me. And when the Reverend suggests you get married right now instead of-how did he put it? Oh, yes-instead of continuing to 'cavort in sin' with your intended groom, it takes more intestinal fortitude than I just discovered I have to say no."
"Yeah, sure you don't." Henke eyed her narrowly. "I've known treecats-hell, I've known boulders-less stubborn then you are, Honor Harrington. No way in the world did anyone hold a pulser to your head and make you do this!"
"Well, that's true," Honor admitted. "In fact, I'm a more than a little ticked off with myself for not having thought of this and proposed it myself months ago. It's just, after the High Ridge smear campaign, it never occurred to me."
"Even if it had," Henke said shrewdly, "you wouldn't have suggested it. You'd have just sat on it and hoped the idea occurred to Emily."
"You might be right," Honor said, after a moment. "I hadn't really thought about that while I was busy kicking myself for being so slow."
"Honor, you're my best friend in the universe, but I've got to tell you, you've got one blind spot about two kilometers wide. It's funny, given that you're also the only functional two-foot empath I know, but it's true. You are constitutionally incapable of suggesting anything that will get you what you want if it might step on someone else. And you're so incapable of it, that you go into some sort of immediate internal denial where the very possibility of suggesting it is concerned."
"I do not!"
"You do so." Henke looked at Nimitz. "Doesn't she, Stinker?"
Nimitz looked down at Henke from Honor's shoulder for a moment, and then nodded firmly.
"See? Even your furry minion knows it. Which is one reason this marriage of yours is going to be so good for you. Somehow, I don't see Hamish and Emily Alexander-or Hamish and Emily Alexander-Harrington, I suppose now-letting you get away with that anymore."
Honor considered protesting further, but she didn't. And one reason she didn't, she admitted to herself, was that she wasn't positive she could, and be honest. The notion certainly bore thinking on, at any rate.
"Whatever," she said, instead, smiling at Henke. "But the main thing is that, aside from Mac and my armsmen, you're the only one in the Fleet who knows. I'm going to tell Alice and Alistair, as well, but no one else. Not for a while."
"Marriage licenses and wedding certificates are public records, Honor," Henke pointed out. "You can't keep this one quiet for long."
"Longer than you might think," Honor replied with an urchin-like grin. "Since I'm Steadholder Harrington, and a steadholder outranks a duchess or an earl, the license and certificate are both being filed on Steadholder Harrington's planet of residence. In the Public Records Office of Harrington Steading, as a matter of fact. Reverend Sullivan offered to take care of it for me."
"Well, wasn't that nice of him," Henke said with a matching grin. "I don't suppose they're likely to get temporarily misfiled, are they?"
"No, they aren't," Honor said, more seriously. "They're important official documents, so we're not going to be playing any games with them. But we're also not going to mention to anyone that they're there, and while the records are public, they have to be requested, so we'll know if anyone accesses them." She shrugged. "We couldn't keep it secret forever, even if we wanted to, which we don't. This will just buy a little more time."
"But why buy it in the first place?" Henke frowned. "Like Emily said, this solves all your problems. Except, of course, for the people who're going to suggest that the fact that you're
marrying them now probably proves Hayes was right with his original rumors about you and Hamish."
"The main reason is my command and Hamish's position at the Admiralty," Honor admitted. "Hamish's theory is that since the First Lord, unlike the First Space Lord, is a civilian without any authority to issue orders to uniformed personnel, he's not in my direct chain of command, and so there's been no official prohibition against our... involvement from the start. Unfortunately, that's currently just his opinion. Before we go public, we want to be certain the courts are going to agree with him."
"And if they don't?" Henke frowned again. Rules-lawyering was very unlike the Honor Harrington she'd always known.
"And if they don't, the solution's relatively simple. I resign my Manticoran commission, and High Admiral Matthews makes Admiral Steadholder Harrington available to the Alliance to command Eighth Fleet. That we know would be legal, since there's no similar prohibition in Grayson service. But it would be complicated and an obvious case of finding a way to technically comply with the law, and we'd all prefer to simply find out that what we're doing is legal in the first place under the Star Kingdom's Articles of War."
