The Wedding

by Edith Layton

  “Then where is he?” Crispin demanded.

  “Alas,” the man said hollowly, avoiding Crispin’s eye, “he is…gone.”

  “Gone?” Crispin asked. “Gone?” he said as a meaning for the man’s gloom occurred to him. “No,” he said firmly, “not possible. I saw him this morning and heard of his arrest only this afternoon. Tyburn Fair was held three days ago. It will be at least another week until the next hangings. I doubt he’s even seen the judge yet.”

  “I did not say he was hanged, though that is the law of the land for his offense. But the truth is that he is simply gone. I don’t know how. None of the jailers know, they say. I wasn’t here at the time. But there are fevers that kill swiftly, my lords,” the man said with desperation, seeing the look in their eyes. “Difficulties with other prisoners can sometimes bring sudden death, as can injuries resulting from capture. And he was rather young and small. I don’t even know if the lad’s remains can be found now—so many prisoners, so little room, and such a demand from the good doctors. Crime is a great boon to education. The surgeons are busy with us here even when the hangman rests, you understand.

  “If you wish, I’ll conduct a thorough investigation, but I’ve little hope of finding an answer soon. I’m sorry, my lords. Had I but known…perhaps something might have been done—before, that is to say. But it is the Lord’s will,” he said piously.

  *

  The coach left Newgate and moved toward Crispin’s house as slowly as a funeral carriage.

  “A hundred boys are hanged every month, and though I often regretted that fact, I always did so over my coffee or after reading news of it,” Wrede said, his usual humor gone from his voice. “And even then, I regretted the need for it, not the way of it. I never knew one of them before, you see.”

  “Damn, damn, damn,” Crispin said, and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know how Dulcie will take this news. She complained about Willie all the time, but she treated him like a younger brother. So did I, come to think of it. We made an odd little family. But so we were,” he said softly.

  When the carriage stopped, Wrede got out and hesitated. “Do you want me to come in?” he asked, unsure of himself for the first time since Crispin had known him.

  “Now more than ever,” Crispin said. “Dulcie will need company. Lord, I need company.”

  They mounted the steps to Crispin’s house as though they were going to the scaffold themselves.

  “Where is my lady?” Crispin asked the butler as he came into the hall.

  “Oh, my lord, we’d hoped she was with you,” Stroud said.

  That was when Crispin noticed that the front hall was filled with staff. Footmen and maids peered at him from the corners of the great hall. Even the cook and his helpers stood by the stairs.

  “What’s happened?” Crispin asked, wondering if the servants had somehow discovered what had happened to Willie. It was a hard thing, and he had wanted to cushion the terrible news for Dulcie.

  “Well, the mistress, she heard young Willie had been apprehended by the law for a crime he hadn’t done,” Stroud said, as Crispin grimaced. “She went tearing out of here to right the wrong. The lad’s a lively one and no mistake, my lord, but he’s not evil,” the butler explained, “and so say all of us.”

  “I know, I know,” Crispin said impatiently. “Go on.”

  “Well, there it is, my lord. She went out, and she hasn’t returned. It’s been hours, my lord,” he said anxiously, and Crispin looked around to see fright and worry on the many faces peering at him.

  “She went alone?”

  “Oh, never, my lord,” the butler said in horror. “Young Winston, he went with her, and so did her maid. When she didn’t come back straightaway, I sent Trickle and Capstone running after. But they didn’t find her.”

  “And where did she go?” Crispin asked, fearful of hearing the answer.

  “To Newgate Prison, my lord,” the butler said unhappily.

  “But we just came from there.” Crispin’s face was ashen as he turned away blindly. “I’ll find her,” he told Wrede, “if I have to search all of London.”

  “Where could she have gone?” his friend asked.

  “I don’t know,” Crispin muttered as he strode out the door again. “She must be grieving over Willie. She’ll need someone to talk with. She hasn’t heard from her damned father. She has only me.” On the front step he turned and stared at Wrede, his eyes lucent and glowing with pain. “But I’m afraid she doesn’t even know that I am her friend! Damn my black soul, Wrede, if she doesn’t know that! But how could she know?” he asked furiously. “Even now, how could she know, when I never told her? I have to find her.”

  “Wait!” Wrede said, holding him by his arm. “Where will you go?”

  Crispin shook him off impatiently. “I’ll go to Harry and hold him up by his heels and shake the information out of him if I must. I’ll scour her old haunts… Ah, God in heaven, I’ll go to the docks first, and have them watch for her. I will find her. Maybe she’s gone to seek her father. Maybe she’s gone to seek something else… The news of Willie may have hurt her more than she could bear. Oh, my God,” he looked at Wrede in sudden shock, his pale face haggard. “The news you spread…what if she heard that? I have to find her now. I must! Wrede,” he continued wildly, “you don’t understand. Till now, I don’t think I did, either. When I lost my fortune, I thought I’d lost everything. But I didn’t know what loss was then. You see, if I lose Dulcie, I shall have no need of a fortune, or even of life itself, because she has my heart. I love her.”

  And turning on his heel he strode off into the growing darkness, followed by his friend.

  *

  They returned in the dark, without speaking. And without Dulcie. Wrede knew his friend was returning home only because he had no place left to search.

  “There’s nothing else you can do,” Wrede said, continuing to argue. “You’ve told everyone to send word of her to you. How can you get the news if you’re not at home? You must stay here now—it’s the only choice left to you.”

  Crispin nodded, but didn’t speak. He was too exhausted and sick at heart to try. His face was drawn and shadowed. He had searched London from top to bottom, and had never before realized how low the bottom was, nor how near it was to the top. He’d been among the dead and dying, in soul and body. He’d hung between hope and despair too many times this night in places where he had hoped to find her—and prayed he would not. No one had seen the beautiful lady, he was sure of that. He would have seen it in their eyes even if their lips lied, they were that much afraid of the lean nobleman with murder in his eyes. And no one knew where Willie was, either.

  Despite his weariness, Crispin walked with tense wariness. Wrede, worried beyond jest, kept stride behind him. Crispin’s fists were clenched to white knuckles. Waiting wasn’t a thing he did well. But he couldn’t see an alternative.

  The two men climbed the steps to the house in silence—and were shocked to find the door ajar. Crispen cautiously pushed it all the way open, his breath stoppered, afraid of what he might find inside.

  He only breathed again when he saw the footman’s happy grin. And let out all his pent-up breath at once when he saw Stroud’s wide and slightly drunken smile as he greeted them.

  “Here. She’s here. Our lady’s in the parlor, my lor’, although she’s not eating bread and honey, not she.” Stroud’s speech was slurred, and he kept giggling. “Forgive me, my lor’, but we was—we were just havin’ a toast to the happy day. Although ’tis night, to be sure.” He giggled again.

  Crispin strode into his parlor, but stopped in the doorway and stared. Wrede laughed, a full-bodied laugh such as Crispin hadn’t heard from him in years. Willie Grab stood in a circle of admirers, talking and waving his glass of ale for emphasis as Dulcie smiled down at him. But she stopped laughing when she looked up and saw them.

  “Crispin!” she said, growing pale.

  He said nothing. He went straight to her, open
ed his arms, and closed her tightly inside them. She felt his heart racing against hers as he hugged her hard, rocking her back and forth soundlessly.

  Crispin’s relief was so great that he couldn’t speak. The words he had to say were so intimate that he dared not open his mouth for fear they might come tumbling out. He held her so close she found it hard to breathe, but it would have been hard for her to breathe anyway against the great flow of love she felt rising in her. He only let her go when he heard familiar laughter close by.

  He released Dulcie and knelt down to face Willie squarely. “They told me at Newgate that you were gone,” Crispin said.

  “Yeah, well, she paid enough for my release,” Willie said, looking up at Dulcie with pride. “She told the jailers it would be easy to lose a small boy in such a big place. She gave them all the money she had so they’d do it, and promised more to come later. But that ain’t all she done. She got mad as thunder, but she stayed cool. You should have heard her!” he said with admiration, as he’d been saying to the household staff ever since he got back. “She even set my knees to knocking.

  “‘Release the boy or you will regret it, I assure you,’ she says to them, grand as a duchess, cold as ice, and hot as hell. ‘If you do not let him go, you will take his place on the morrow,’ she says, cool as you please. Then, while they’re thinking that out, she lowers the roof. She talks about every noble lady and gent in London town by their first names, like they took tea together every day, and every politician I ever heard of, too. The jailers get nervous, see. They talk about the warden, and so she asks why he has to know. Says if the warden knew, he’d want a share of their money, they knowed he would. Then she says it weren’t like such things wasn’t done all the time, which is true enough, too.

  “Then she caps it by looking like she’s lost her patience, and she says, ‘I am the Viscountess West. ’Twas my jewelry. He is my servant. And I shall have his release, or I vow you will live to regret this day!’ And, I was out of there before they could stop shaking in their boots!” he crowed.

  “And later, when I asked her how she done it so good, she said she was impersonating a nobleman. She said she thought of you, and it was easy,” Willie said, looking at Wrede, mischief in his eyes. But Dulcie didn’t smile, and neither did Crispin.

  He straightened and looked at Dulcie. She wasn’t celebrating. She was white-faced and still and stood with her head high, her back stiff, her hands clasped together in front of her.

  “How did Harry trap you, child?” Wrede asked Willie, noting the tension between Dulcie and Crispin, his own eyes going from one to the other.

  “Ah, well, Harry nosed on me,” Willie said. “That is, he told on me.”

  “That was a fine way for you to repay the viscountess—by taking her gems,” Wrede chided him. “I’m surprised at you.”

  Willie colored, but Dulcie spoke up quickly. “He didn’t take them,” she said quietly. “I gave them to him to sell for me.”

  “Ah,” Wrede said, as Crispin winced.

  “I needed money so I could leave, and they were my jewels, you see. Dulcie Blessing’s jewelry and no one else’s. I heard that I was no longer your viscountess, so Willie was right. What I did at Newgate was an impersonation. But your name was all I had to keep Willie safe. I wouldn’t leave without him, and I used everything I had. Even something I hadn’t anymore. I’m sorry for my impudence,” she told Crispin, “but it was in a good cause, and don’t worry, I won’t keep it up. I’ll trouble you no more.”

  Crispin stepped toward her, but Wrede was there first.

  “My dear lady, forgive me,” Wrede said, taking her hand. She bit her lip and looked away, but his voice was gentle and sad.

  “I almost got my foolish head blown off by your husband this evening for my cruel meddling. And cruel it was,” Wrede said. “I thought I was doing him a favor. I realize now I was deluding myself. Loneliness loves company. I think it was that which blinded me. I hope you will forgive me. Crispin already has. He spared my life and took my hand in friendship again. I hope you can be as merciful.

  “Willie,” Wrede said, turning to face the boy, “come with me to the kitchens now, if you please, and leave these two alone. I find myself devilish hungry after my exertions today, and I reason that if anyone in this household knows where the pies are when the cook is in bed, it is you.”

  The salon cleared in the blink of an eye, and Willie and the earl ambled after the servants who were now returning to their duties.

  Dulcie turned as though to follow, but Crispin put a hand on her shoulder and held her there.

  “I didn’t know,” he said. “I swear on all that’s holy I didn’t know until yesterday.”

  “Yes,” she nodded, “but I didn’t know until today.”

  “How could I tell you?” he asked in desperation. “I knew what you’d think. I knew what I thought. Good God, Dulcie! You knew what I wanted when we first made a pretense of our marriage. But you must know what I feel for you now. I didn’t know that Wrede had been successful in his attempt to have the marriage dissolved. When I found out, I wanted to remedy the situation before you found out about it. And I did so.

  “Dulcie,” he said, taking her by both shoulders and turning her to face him, “we are married. Now and forever. They had clapped poor old Featherstone up in Bedlam, but I had him reinstated and put in a home where he’s safe—and likely cursing me, because no gin is allowed there. I bought the marriage register from Harry—well, from Jerome, actually, because Harry’s afraid of me—with good reason,” he added. “I have our wedding paper and the register. The vicar is as mad as a hatter, but the law says he’s sane. There’s no doubt of it: you are my wife again. I ran around town like a madman myself, but the deed is done. What more can I do?”

  “Lady Charlotte knew that ours was a Fleet wedding. She said you told her,” Dulcie said, her hurt still keen.

  “I did not. I did a great many stupid things before I knew my heart, but not that. I am afraid that that was another indiscretion on the part of Wrede.”

  “But she is a lady,” Dulcie persisted, her eyes searching his. “You could still have her.”

  He smiled, but his brilliant eyes were worried. “I have my lady,” he said. “If you are not a lady, Dulcie Blessing West, I don’t know what a lady is. And I don’t care to know, either.”

  “I have no money,” she said.

  “Well, you did. And you would, if you didn’t squander it on little boys.”

  Her smile was just a tiny, sad, and tentative lift of her lips, but it heartened him.

  “Dulcie love,” he said gently, “what shall I say? What would you have me do? I know!” he said with sudden inspiration. “Marry me. I mean marry me again—this time in a grand cathedral with everyone in London looking on. We’ll never deny the truth about our first wedding. We couldn’t. I suppose the news of that is as common in London as marmalade with morning toast by now. But we can celebrate it instead of ruing it. I certainly don’t regret it. How could I? This marriage was the making of me.”

  He loosened his grip on her, but did not let her go. He cupped her shoulders gently, caressing her skin with his thumbs. He’d thought he’d lost everything once. Now he knew that wasn’t true. With all he had, if she left him, he would have nothing at all. He chose his words with care.

  “At first I thought our marriage was a bad bargain. Then I thought I’d make the best of it. Then I realized that the best was better than I’d ever known. Still, I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it. I never want to go through that again. Never. I was half mad, I think, mostly because I was afraid of becoming sane again, without you. I didn’t know where you’d got to, and I didn’t want to think about the places you might have gone, although I searched everywhere for you. You are where you belong now—here. And here is where I want you to stay, Dulcie. Forever. With me.

  “Maybe you think you don’t need me,” he said, his face grave. “After all, you’re beautiful, bright, and stro
ng. Look at today: I set out to slay a dragon—but found my lady had already done it. It’s true. You would do well for yourself, by yourself. It’s a hard world out there, but even so, you’re capable of surviving in it. But there’s so much more to life than surviving! Let me try to give you more. In a better world you might not need me at all. But I need you. Marry me again, Dulcie.”

  She looked deep into his eyes, resisting their lure, trying to get beyond their surface beauty so she could read his heart there. And then she risked hers.

  “I’ll always need you, Crispin,” she blurted. “If you weren’t here, this wouldn’t be a better world for me. But you’ve never said you love me, and that drives me to distraction. I can’t stop worrying about it. Do you love me? Or do you just like me and fear that I’ll be hurt? Or maybe you’re afraid that people will think badly of you if you leave me now. Or maybe you wonder if I’m going to have your baby. Or possibly you don’t want to look foolish. Or…”

  But now she could clearly read his mind. Joy was written in every fine line of his face. His hands tightened on her shoulders. His eyes were tender. “I coursed over London today like a madman,” he said. “I perjured myself and emptied my purse. I begged, threatened, and cajoled. I faced my best friend in a duel, prepared to die. Then when I didn’t die, I wanted to, because I couldn’t find you. I’ve been running since dawn and on into the night, and all for you. I turned my life inside out for you—and you’re asking me if I love you? How could you not know?”

  “Well,” she said, raising her chin, “you never said it. Not ever. Not even once.”

  “Oh,” he said, clearly ashamed of himself. “Well, that’s because I’m a fool,” he said quickly. “I love you, Dulcie. It’s what I do best. Do you hear? I love your face, your body, and your mind. The day we met was the best day of my life. I don’t want to think of another day without you. Or one more night. Now. Look you, wife: will you marry me?”

  She didn’t answer him immediately. But he was very pleased with her immediate response.