Mr. and Mrs. Stowe looked on dispassionately.
Major Chance paused. Lippy, who still sat at the pianoforte, shot her hand out and took the major's. He returned her smile.
Then, very gently, he placed Lippy's hand back in her lap.
Major Chance walked to the sofa where Marnie sat, lost in her brown dress, between the two girls.
"The thing is," he said, "a farrier's son will always be a farrier's son. Just as a rebellious daughter will always be a rebellious daughter. There are things I am supposed to care about. But I don't care a jot for them."
He knelt and took Marnie's hands, chill from sitting still in the draughty room, in his own warm, broad ones.
Marnie looked up into his frank brown eyes.
"Major? Major!" called Elspeth, hurrying towards him. "I don't think—I think there has been some mistake!"
"No mistake," Major Chance said. "Miss Stowe, Miss Marnie Stowe, I have held you in the highest regard from the very moment I caught sight of you. Fight it and fight me all you like. I admire you to the point of foolishness. There could never be another. I ask you to honour our engagement—to take leave of your position here and to be my wife."
Marnie could not comprehend what was happening. There was a rushing sound in her ears, as though the room were receding at speed into the distance. Like the girls on either side of her, she stared in mute shock. She felt lightheaded, suddenly, as though all the resolve she had been using to get through the dreadful party suddenly vanished and left her light, boneless, almost outside of herself.
"Marnie?" Major Chance said. "What do you say?"
Marnie hadn't known happiness could be felt so strongly in the body. It ran down her limbs and rose through her belly. Happiness, relief, surprise—it occurred to her that she must remember how the moment felt, because she would likely never have another one so happy in all her life.
Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke, feeling all eyes on her. Elspeth's were anxious, Lippy's furious, the major's warm and ardent.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I cannot."
There was an audible gasp from the crowd, suddenly much more alert than they were during Lippy's performance.
The major blinked. "You...cannot?"
"I cannot," she said.
He looked at her intently.
"Are you sure?"
"Certain," Marnie said, her voice a whisper.
There was a long moment of silence. Finally, he spoke. "Can you tell me why not?"
Marnie took her hands from his. She folded them in her lap.
"I may not be a Privette of Miss Robin's Academy any longer," she said. "I failed her, and I failed you, and I shall have plenty of time to repent of my choices. I have spent much time in penitence already."
Marnie's voice shook as she continued. "But the arrangement we made was made under her auspices. Which means, you see—you must understand—I could never marry you without graduating. And now—now, that is quite impossible."
She closed her eyes. She could not bear to look at him a moment longer.
Before the major could respond, there was a knock at the parlour door.
Elspeth shot up. "A guest! Oh, another guest has arrived. Please, talk among yourselves! Let the party resume!"
No one spoke among themselves. All eyes went to the door.
A servant pulled it open. There was Miss Robin, in her crimson gown and wire-framed glasses, a smile on her face.
Marnie stared in open shock. So did Lippy. So did Elspeth.
"Miss Robin?" cried Elspeth. "I don't recall sending—I mean, I didn't think to see you this evening!"
"Please forgive this intrusion," Miss Robin said smoothly. "I shall only be here for a moment. I do hate to be impolite, Mrs. Talbot, but your parents assured me you would quite understand."
Elspeth glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Stowe, a look of pure confusion on her face.
"Why…of course," she said.
"Miss Stowe," said Miss Robin. Marnie stood, and the major stood next to her. "Once again, you will find you are in error."
Marnie swallowed and clasped her hands so tightly it hurt.
"Usually, I do not approve of eavesdropping," Miss Robin said. "But tonight—by arrangement with your parents and Major Chance—I have been, shall we say, observing your behaviour. And I distinctly heard you say that you were ineligible to marry the major, as you had not graduated from my academy. In fact, I believe you said it would be impossible."
"Yes, Miss Robin," said Marnie.
"Well, allow me to correct your mistake. This evening—through the very refusal you have made—you have indeed graduated from my program. This was your final exam. You have passed it. Congratulations."
Marnie brought her hands to her mouth. She was so accustomed to receiving bad news, scolding, reprimands, that she held very still, certain that this new and unexpected happiness was bound to be snatched away.
"One more thing," said Major Chance. "Will you come outside with me for a moment?"
Marnie could only nod dumbly. She allowed him to take her hand and walk her outside as the two girls followed.
It was a pleasant summer night, the air scented with fresh grass and blossoms. It was not quite dark—the sky still had a teal blue tint.
They went through the garden, to the stable at the back of the house. Marnie's heart thudded painfully hard in her chest.
"I had every faith in you," said Major Chance. "In fact, I was so confident you would pass that I bought you a graduation gift in advance."
Marnie was only half-listening to him. She had already heard a sound she thought she would never hear again. That particular, impatient stamp on the ground. She heard it, then waited in silence, frightened that it had been an error, that she had been imagining things.
Then she heard it again.
She dropped the major's hand and ran into the stables, ran down the central aisle past her sister's horses to the stall right at the end.
And there she was.
"Scarlett!" Marnie cried.
She threw her arms about the animal's neck. She buried her face into her mane, smelling her good smell of oats and hair and horse sweat. Scarlett butted her head against Marnie, knocking off her cap and disarranging her hair.
After a long moment, Marnie turned and looked around at the major, who had followed her into the stables.
Tears were streaming from her eyes. She did not feel herself begin to cry; her eyes simply overflowed, and the salt water ran in rivulets down her face and throat, onto her gown, onto the stable floor.
She didn't care. Her blue eyes glowed in the stable lamps. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you."
Major Chance could see that Marnie was not going to step away from her horse. So, he went to her and folded her into his broad, strong arms. He let her sob against his chest, crying and crying as she had never cried before, one hand still twined in Scarlett's mane.
Marnie wasn't sure why she was crying. She had not known it was possible to cry from happiness.
Chapter 15
The wedding would be at the academy. Marnie was told she would be allowed to move back there during the preparations, but she elected to stay with Elizabeth and Isabel, instead. She had grown fond of them. And besides, it was not so bad staying in Mrs. Talbot's house, now that she knew she would soon be leaving.
Each day, she received letters from the major, in which she learned, among other things, that he had only come to visit Elspeth because he had been promised an interview with Marnie. He had made no promises to Lippy. In the weeks they were apart, all his energies had been directed towards convincing Miss Robin to reconsider her decision.
Marnie rolled her eyes when she read about her sisters' actions. But, strangely, instead of feeling furious at Elspeth and Lippy for their plotting, she felt sorry for them, thinking how truly unhappy they must be.
Once, a long time ago, Marnie had planned to marry without inviting her family. But she found she'd had a change of heart.
She invited her parents, her sisters, even the Turners, whom she promised would be spared musical entertainments of any kind.
For a dress, she wanted something simple in which she would be free to move. The gown she was fitted for was an unfashionable plain white muslin, with unfashionable loose sleeves and no bustle whatsoever. Marnie thought it the nicest gown she had ever seen.
On the morning of the wedding, she arrived at the academy early to find Georgie in the entrance hall, bursting with excitement. When Marnie entered, Georgie raced to her and kissed her cheek before enveloping her in a firm embrace. Georgie's chaperone hovered in the background.
"Oh, Marnie, how I've missed you!" Georgie cried. "You look—you look just splendid!"
"I'm not even dressed yet!" said Marnie.
"I know! But you're glowing, positively glowing!" said Georgie. She put a hand to her own heated cheek. "Forgive me, I'm just so excited. Mrs. Jones is upstairs waiting for you. No lessons today—we all have time to ourselves before the ceremony. I begged to be able to see you when you arrived. Ah, I can't wait!"
Georgiana embraced her once again, and Marnie pressed her cheek against the shorter girl's glossy dark hair. It was good to see her old friend.
She met with Mrs. Jones in her old room, where a hot bath was waiting. Marnie, though no longer a pupil of Miss Robin's Academy, submitted to Mrs. Jones' rigorous cleansing regimen, allowing her chaperone, for the last time, to deliver a thorough soapy enema into her bottom and shave her nether lips. Marnie then sank into the bath, where Mrs. Jones washed her hair.
Mrs. Jones rinsed Marnie's hair with lavender water. Marnie knew the tradition was to use rose-petal infused water for brides and blushed when she realised why none was available.
Once all the preparations were complete—once Marnie was dressed in her simple white silk gown with matching white slippers, her hair loosely held in place by a comb, it was time to go downstairs.
"Ah, wait. Just one more thing," Mrs. Jones said.
Marnie suddenly felt sick with nerves. "What is it?" she said.
"Nothing much. I just thought you'd like to have it today," said Mrs. Jones, who had turned to the chest of drawers that stood between the beds.
When she turned back, Marnie saw what was in her hands. "Oh, Mrs. Jones! Oh, thank you! Thank you!"
It was Marnie's lucky horseshoe. For the occasion, Mrs. Jones had had it polished and attached a white silk ribbon.
"I told you I would not purloin your things, Miss Stowe," Mrs. Jones said, after tying the ribbon in a neat bow around Marnie's wrist.
Marnie felt overcome with emotion. She threw her arms around the taller chaperone's neck.
Mrs. Jones, flustered but smiling, patted Marnie gently on the back. "All right, all right!" she said, blushing pleasantly on her fair cheeks. "Come on now and get downstairs. I still have a few minutes left in which you are my charge, and I will not be afraid to use them!"
Usually, summer weddings were held in the garden at Miss Robin's, but as the rose bushes had not yet recovered, it was decided it would be wiser to hold the ceremony in the Redbreast Room. Marnie's heart fluttered lightly as she descended the stairs. She had the sensation it was going to continue fluttering and leave her body entirely.
At the bottom of the staircase were Elizabeth and Isabel, dressed in matching white silk gowns. Elizabeth handed her a bouquet of daisies.
"We brought them from home. Because you couldn't have roses," said Elizabeth.
"I like daisies better than roses anyway, Aunt Marnie," said Isabel.
Marnie smiled. "What a coincidence. So do I," Marnie said.
She plucked one daisy from the bouquet and tucked it into her hair, beneath her veil.
Though she was a girl known for causing scenes, Marnie did not much enjoy being the centre of attention. When the doors to the Redbreast Room opened, she felt suddenly shy at all the eyes that were on her.
She looked down as she walked the red velvet carpet which had been rolled out for the occasion, not looking at her mother and father's proud smiles, at Lippy's pout, at Elspeth's plastered-on grin. She missed the envious glances of some other girls, the happy expressions of the chaperones and the teachers, and she missed Georgiana's happy tears.
During the ceremony, she was almost too shy to look Major Chance in the eye. Every time she saw him, she remembered just what an imposing, impressive and handsome figure he was.
She had asked him, in a letter, where they would go once they were married, and he would only say that he had accepted a post somewhere south of London. He said he had rented lodgings for them and that he felt they would be to her satisfaction.
Marnie had not felt that she was in a position to question or complain. She imagined some perfectly adequate house in a barracks town, where she would entertain visitors and run the household. And Scarlett would be there, in a stable somewhere. It was not ideal, but it was more than she had dared to hope for even a few weeks prior.
When Major Chance lifted her veil during the vows, Marnie's heart started fluttering afresh and she felt a trembling through her body. He took her hands and squeezed them, firmly, until the tremors subsided.
Before she knew it, the minister pronounced them husband and wife.
"You may kiss—" he said, but Major Chance did not wait for him to finish. He swooped down, cupping Marnie's face in his hands and kissing her with a force and passion that she had not expected.
She flushed deeply, caught off guard, but felt a thrill from the promise of that kiss and wondered how long they would have to remain at the reception breakfast before they could take their leave and she could say good-bye to Miss Robin's Academy forever.
The wedding breakfast passed in a whirl. Marnie could not remember most of the conversations that took place.
One notable exception to this was when she greeted the Turners, who congratulated her warmly. Mrs. Turner said that finding out the major wished to marry her—and not her sister—had come as a great surprise.
Marnie was a little taken aback. "B-but you attended our engagement party—" she flushed, remembering what had transpired that evening.
"Well, that was a most queer thing, my dear! Your sister never gave the impression that the purpose of the party was to announce an engagement. She sent out no formal invitations whatsoever. She didn't even invite your parents! She merely invited herself to tea and told us to come for a party where we would meet her sister's intended, a major. She did the same thing with other friends, or so I hear. I assumed—I think we all assumed—that she meant Phillippa would soon be engaged. Yes, it was a most queer situation!"
Marnie turned towards Elspeth and Lippy. She looked at the spray of feathers exploding from Elspeth's hat and Lippy's low-cut gown and rouged cheeks. With their typical lack of subtlety, they were sizing up every man in the room. The fury that had arisen in Marnie quelled. It didn't matter what they did, she realised. All the plotting and scheming in the world would not have won over Major Chance. Since they met, he hadn't had eyes for anyone but her.
Her heart went soft at the thought. She turned away from her sisters and left them to their devices.
When the hour came, Marnie found leaving Miss Robin's Academy surprisingly difficult. Though she had left before, this time was different. There was no question—it was permanent. She had graduated. It put her in a reflective mood, but she didn't mind. It was necessary to be thoughtful sometimes.
She was just preparing to say her goodbyes to her family, to Georgie, to Mrs. Jones and Miss Robin, when there was a sudden commotion outside, at the front steps.
Everyone in the parlour, which looked out onto the front entrance hall, turned around.
The bell was pulled and pulled again. Miss Robin followed two attendants to the door.
Marnie, thinking it was perhaps a guest who was terribly late, went to the door of the parlour. Major Chance went with her.
An attendant answered the door, revealing two very harried gentlemen, one older and on
e younger, holding between them a girl with the brightest, most coppery red hair Marnie had ever seen. It was set off beautifully by her emerald green gown and the black velvet choker she wore.
The men gripped the girl's upper arms. She struggled and eventually broke away from the older man's grasp.
"Unhand me!" she cried.
Miss Robin was unperturbed. "Mr. Lawson? How good to see you. I think, however, you might have made a mistake—our appointment was for tomorrow morning at nine o'clock."
The older man took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead, while the younger man held the struggling girl firm.
"Forgive me, Miss Robin," the older man said. "I can see you are quite in the middle of something. It pains me to interrupt. I would not do so if the situation were not desperate."
"There is no 'situation'!" the girl cried. "Oh, you brutes! Let me go at once!"
"You see," said Mr. Lawson, talking over the girl's complaints, "we spent most of last night chasing this one down. She was halfway to Gretna Green before we caught her. If we hadn't—God, it doesn't bear thinking about!"
"You are engaged, Miss Lawson?" said Miss Robin.
"Yes!" she cried.
"Absolutely not," said the older man, who Marnie surmised was her father.
"And what would you know of love?" the girl snarled. "I am in love with the most wonderful man in the world, and we will be married, mark my words!"
"Beatrice, I will be dead in the ground before I allow you to bond yourself forever to that charlatan!"
"I hope you do die! I hope you die this very instant and leave me to my happiness!"
Miss Robin stepped forward.
"Mr. Lawson, Miss Lawson, as you can see, we are in the middle of a wedding breakfast at the academy this morning. If you will just follow me—"
"Follow you! Ha!" cried Miss Lawson. She spat on the floor.
Marnie, in surprise, put her hand to her chest. The gesture caught the girl's attention.
"Oh, look at the happy couple! Mr. and Mrs. Boring, doing whatever their betters tell them! Well, you might be content with your lot, but I have known true love and I shan't give it up!"
A Major of Marnie (Miss Robin's Academy Book 3) Page 17
