She tried to smile but instead managed to croak out a sentence with a somewhat unsteady voice, “I'm going to remove the veil when we're in the wagon so it won't be crushed, but I wanted you to see it first.”
He had figured she was preparing for the ceremony when she'd disappeared into her room for so long. He hadn't expected her to look so lovely, so complete, so prepared, when she came back out of the room to him. He was speechless, stunned by her beauty and surprised by the beautiful wedding apparel. “You, you... look wonderful!” He stammered.
“The veil and dress belonged to my mother. She married my father in this,” she said, her voice more steady this time. She hid trembling hands at her sides among the folds of the gown.
“You look a picture out of heaven,” he breathed, meaning every word. She'd look lovely in anything he'd been thinking. “Don't take the veil off... you look perfect. It's beautiful. The vicar isn't all that far from here, less than an hour and a half I'd say. I'd like you to wear it, the whole way there, so I can remember how you looked on our wedding day.”
Her eyes sparkled when he finished speaking and she was glad at all he'd said. It actually had calmed her. There'd been a little sadness in her before, what with leaving the manse and saying good-bye to so many pleasant and happy memories. She felt as though she was leaving her father, but in actuality, when he'd passed, he'd already left. The house was just empty now with only her there.
She had a whole new life to look forward to now. She looked down at nothing in particular and blushed, and left the veil on. “I'll just be a moment then.” She returned to the oval full length mirror in her room to secure the veil and flowers with more pins. She pinched her cheeks for color and then slipped a pair of ivory white gloves on her hands. She picked up the pearls and with one last look about the bedroom of her youth, she closed the door.
“William, would you please?” She handed him the pearls and turned around, holding her veil out of the way as best she could without crumpling it. He was terrified to touch her. What if he crushed her veil, dropped the pearls, stepped on her train... he gingerly, very carefully, managed to clasp the necklace. He would be glad when he wasn't quite so afraid to touch her. There was still tension between them if they stood too close together. He briefly wondered if this could possibly work. Wasn't he supposed to know and already love his bride?
Jake and Ben came bounding into the parlor and stopped short. She looked more beautiful than any bride they'd ever seen. Jake whistled and Ben looked up at her in awe.
She scooped up the calico cat for the last time, who'd wandered in just then from the dining room, and hugged him gently, trying not to get any cat hair on her gown. She scratched him behind his ears, one last time, in his favorite spot, and then reluctantly handed him to Jake. “Cats don't travel well Jake,” she'd said. “You take 'Harry' for me, so you don't forget your time with father and me. Thank you for all you've done. When I'm settled, I'll write to you.” Jake had hugged her, sad to see her go.
Turning to William, “I think we're ready,” she said.
They all spilled out of the house and she followed last, on William's arm. She locked the door.
She was terrified and excited all at the same time. The enormity of what she was about to do hit her full force when she turned around from that door and looked up at the stranger beside her. She was of a mind to flee but that still small voice calmed her. He had never before considered how much a bride's life changes when she marries, but he did that day as the sun was setting over the quiet little parish there in the northern outskirts of London. He too was starting to feel the excitement again of the adventure in front of them. She gathered her skirts and train in one hand and he took her other hand in his and led her to the wagon.
Her beloved horse, a beautiful chestnut mare, could not be forgotten or left behind. William had at once recognized the beauty and value of her fine horse and agreed “Clover” should be granted a passport. Clover had been tied to the wagon to follow along but it was never clear who was more annoyed with the slow progression of the mules, the passengers, or the fine horse. William began to think the necessity of mules had been a bit of a mistake. A decent farmer would have owned horses. He thought he had overplayed his position of humble farmer but thankfully, his bride didn't seem to criticize or pester him with her thoughts on the matter.
Fortunately there had been no callers during this episode to alert Lady Dresden, who might have done much to cause a scene or intervene. The manse Miss Benningham was leaving behind was located a distance away from the village and other dwellings on a country road all to itself. It would have looked lonely indeed except it had a charming white picket fence all the way around the front yard and the company of several large, protective oak and maple trees. The only actual person she had said good-bye to had been Jake, formally named, Jacob Butterfield.
Jake, whilst holding 'Harry' in his arms, had given her an awkward good-bye hug and promised to tell no one of her wedding for as long as he could put it off. She had given Jake a satisfactory and truthful explanation for her departure and Jake, though young, seemed to understand. He promised to deliver her farewell letters when it became clear Lady Dresden (and Alexandra's dearest friend Betsy) could no longer be put off. All had been accomplished as the sun dropped into the horizon.
The wagon was fully packed and rolled away from Alexandra's home just after sunset under the cloak of darkness. She waved good-bye to Jake standing on the porch until he disappeared from view. The wagon, after traveling about an hour and a half, had rolled to a creaky stop. It seemed everything rattled on that ride during those first two hours of her new life. There had been a few awkward silences, much contemplative silence, in and amongst the occasional banter, mostly about the scenery. Every now and then they'd see a cozy lit up house, a quaint shop with lights on upstairs, a scenic big house on a hill, a pretty church steeple... She was glad it had been such a warm and lovely summer evening for a drive.
Finally she was being lifted down by his strong arms to stand nervously before a little gate and a stone path leading to a brick house, Georgetown style, with six long windows, all the same size across the front, considerably larger than the little house she'd just vacated. They were in a distant vale she'd never explored before. William opened the gate for her and they were soon standing together in front of a stout and hearty clergyman who was a bit hard of hearing. She was very glad the process seemed uncomplicated and her groom had taken care of the arrangements. She was emotionally and physically drained, and glad the ceremony was simplistic.
They had exchanged vows under an arbor of roses behind the house under the twilight of stars and several outdoor lanterns. Benjamin Trimmel, along with the vicar's spread of children, the vicar himself, and his wife, had been their witnesses. To William, his bride had looked more beautiful than any he could have imagined. Even with a few wisps of hair out of place, she had looked radiant. Her groom had held her hands in his and locked eyes with her during the ceremony. He'd watched her eyes and face for every reaction, as she did his. She was sure he'd felt her tremble.
The vicar's wife had apparently liked them so well she'd sent the children to bed and had then seated them in the parlor and served them paper thin slices of cake and cups of hot steaming tea after the ceremony. This she had done because she had been well aware she was entertaining a Duke, though the bride did not seem aware of this fact. (The vicar had been apprised beforehand and had in turn explained the matter to his wife, who despite thinking the situation odd, had managed to get through the ceremony without referring to the Duke as “His Grace,” a single time.)
Since everything had been under the cover of darkness, lantern and candlelight, it had all seemed like a dream to her. There had been some matter over the vicar calling her husband Hartford and pronouncing her Mrs. William Hartford. She had thought it due to the many distractions he must manage having seven children, the fact he seemed partially deaf, not to mention the lateness of the hour.
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br /> Their wedding supper had eventually taken place at an inn called The Queen Mary about an hour down the road. It had been very late but the inn had been happy to accommodate them. They'd had the dining room practically to themselves other than a few lone travelers. William had ordered a feast fit for a king; they'd both been ravenous. Even though the hour was late, the owner's wife had been happy to seat them at a table in a private corner near a window, congratulating them on their wedding. She'd remarked on her beautiful gown and veil and seemed to fuss over them because it was their wedding supper. She'd gone out of her way to point out foods on the menu that wouldn't take much time to prepare.
Alexandra found herself so nervous about the wedding night she'd barely been able to eat despite feeling hungry gnawing at her nerves. She filled up after a few bites of stew, and a sampling of each of the other items that had been brought to the table: cheese, yeast rolls, thick slices of country ham, roasted chicken, cold apple pie, grapes and orange wedges, buttered peas with pearl onions, and for dessert, strawberries with cream. What she had been able to taste had been delicious. She slowly sipped the cold cider William had ordered for her. She remembered the feeling of having what seemed like butterflies of excitement whirling around in her stomach along with what little food she'd been able to eat.
William had decided they would take a room at the inn for the night and although it had been very comfortable and cozy with a fireplace and a four poster bed, she'd been surprised, relieved and disappointed somehow when he had said he would sleep on top of the covers-- and she could sleep under them. Judging by the perplexed look on her face, he had then explained that it would be easier to obtain an annulment of the marriage if it was not consummated --perchance things did not work out between them.
On the one hand, she'd felt such relief that he had not expected her to fill all of her wifely “obligations” at once. She had been far too tired to argue the point that first evening of their wedding. She had at first bit her lip. Then she said, “If that is what you think best William, but I am planning to be a good wife to you. I see no reason to disappoint you now, here, at the beginning of our marriage.”
He had looked tempted. But after running his fingers through his hair he'd simply shook his head and said firmly, “No. Not yet. I want you to have a proper courtship of sorts; a chance to get to know me, and I, you. Our time will come.”
She had accepted his words on the matter as final because of her weariness and because of that brief glimpse of desire she'd seen on his face. He was such a man in charge, and she didn't fully understand these things. She felt somehow a little deflated and rejected but didn't want to convey these feelings to him. She had been trying since the wedding night to remain confident. Instead, with each passing day, she felt a little distance grow between them that irritated her.
Chapter 8. The More Kissing Chapter, That Had None
She could not bring herself to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his waiting bothered her in the least. As much as she wanted to become a “real” wife to him, she had an inkling it wouldn't be long 'ere he'd make their marriage true. He always stepped into the hall when she dressed and slept on the top of the covers, letting her sleep under them.
In the meantime, she'd felt a great attraction growing between them. With each passing day she had woken wondering if today would be the day that would be right for them, the day they would truly become “man and wife.”
The journey after their wedding had taken a full three days and had been mostly quiet and relatively uneventful. He would, from time to time, point out various landmarks to her as they very slowly neared what would become her new home. On their second night of marriage, they'd stayed at another inn along the route and the same routine had repeated itself.
It had not been easy to talk with the lad following on horseback sometimes close by and sometimes hanging back so they'd kept the conversation light on the second day's journey as well. Benjamin always slept in the wagon near the stables at each inn along the country roads. It had been a rather bumpy ride and she had been both exhausted and sore when they arrived at Hanwell Farm after a third day of jostling in that rickety wagon beneath the rays of the scorching sun.
She'd been surprised the wagon had been able to withstand the journey. William seemed to be forever watching the hitch and looking over the wheels. Little had she known he was thinking that the rickety and now loaded down wagon had been a very bad idea. Clover seemed to be the most patient with the completely exasperating situation, gnawing at blades of grass every time they stopped, looking up at Alexandra's new husband while she chewed, as if she were silently asking him why he possessed such slow mules and creaky wagon wheels.
They had arrived again under the cloak of darkness, both weary and sleepy eyed. He had fumbled around in his pockets for the key and then she'd stood helpless at the door while he lit a candle. He had shown her around briefly, identified the kitchen, the front room which served as parlor, the privy in the backyard, a narrow main hall, the dining room, and then, to her surprise, separate bedrooms at the top of the stairs. Again, she was too tired to argue the point with him and found herself ushered quickly into “her” room.
While she tried to adjust to her surroundings, he returned to the wagon and in a few trips had brought up her trunks and portmanteau. He had disappeared again to unload and unhitch the wagon, to house and feed the animals in the barn and make Clover at home. She changed into her nightgown and climbed under the quilt and into bed. She was asleep before he returned, disappointed that he seemed quite so determined to keep a safe distance between them. She supposed it was for the best, in the event she chose to seek the annulment he had promised if they were incompatible. She had expected they would at least share a bedroom and felt very alone when her door shut at night.
Again she was emotionally and physically exhausted and glad to be out of the bouncing wagon. The jostling had on countless times caused her to brush up against her husband and she was now very aware of how attracted she was to him, physically. He had been every bit a gentleman, treating her like a queen. He had not once allowed her to climb down from the seat without his help. She had not been left out of his sight for any reason other than to change clothes or use the “privy.” He was attentive, even asking her when she was hungry or if she thought they should stop to rest or stretch.
Part of her in those first few weeks just wanted him to at least hold her, put his arms around her, tell her she was home, welcome her into his life. None of that had happened and she felt terribly disappointed. She felt so hungry for his touch and embrace that she had to fight down feelings of rejection with all that was within her.
Maybe he did not find her as attractive as she found him. During the first weeks there at Hanwell Farm, she struggled to adjust, especially during the long afternoons when he was working around the fields. By the end of her first week of lonely afternoons she found herself a bundle of emotions waiting for her husband to return. Slowly a single tear rolled down one cheek and then another slid down her other cheek. Before she knew it, she was quietly sobbing and confused.
She was so glad the journey was over and glad to be in her new home but she was also anxious for time alone with her new husband. The past few nights had been sleepless. The last thing she had wanted was to be in a strange house, in a strange room, far away from everything and everyone she had ever known. “Oh Papa, Mama, I miss you...” she whispered.
Eventually her tears had subsided and the calming presence of the Holy Spirit had comforted her. She hadn't known how deeply her heart had been aching over the losses and emptiness in her life. She thought she had worked through most of her grief but suddenly she realized how alone she felt, even with the prospect of having a new husband and a whole new life before her. She needed him to be willing to embrace this chance and allow her to move forward --and yet he hung back so cautiously. The end result was that she at first felt a deeper loss than before she'd married him. She would have liked to ha
ve known that the sight of her beautiful face asleep on the quilt permeated his dreams at night but he never mentioned it to her. She felt as though her world had no secure place in which to place her feet during those first few weeks. Everything felt a little intrepid and unreliable.
The days that had followed had been filled with a routine of morning chores such as making breakfast, and boiling water for tea, becoming used to her husband leaving the house after his breakfast to handle his duties about the farm, followed by her own daily chores. Those consisted of laundry once each week, scrubbing the floors another day, changing the bed linens and dusting on the third day. She would sew or mend on the fourth day and on the fifth day she did baking and churning butter. The sixth day was for weeding and gardening. Daily, she prepared the luncheon and evening meals.
To Find a Duchess Page 9
