Venice

by Lynne Connolly

  The house might be gone, but my memories remained. What I underwent here made me the person I was, fit for whatever life would throw at me.

  Breakfast over, we dispersed to have the final touches put to our appearance. James brought the diamonds to my room and Nichols put them on me. He’d put them in the safe in his study and set a trusted servant to guard them all night. To lose them at this stage was unthinkable.

  When Nichols opened the box, my stomach lurched. A pirate’s chest couldn’t have offered better booty.

  Nichols fastened the necklace of intertwined flowers and foliage around my throat, pinned the brooches to my stomacher, hooked the girandole earrings in place, and fastened the aigrette in my hair, a flower with a butterfly set en tremblant above it.

  The woman in the mirror had become a very grand lady. Every time I moved I shimmered, every part of me glinted, silver embroidery and diamonds creating a dazzling vision. I watched the necklace respond to my breathing, glittering as I performed what was normally a disregarded function.

  Nichols gave me my fan and opened the door for me to go downstairs. “During the ceremony I shall remain nearby for you, ma’am.” My tension surged back and I took one more look at the woman in the mirror to give me courage, then turned away. I could hide behind that image.

  Nichols must have seen my nervousness, for she stopped me at the door, and drew a small flask from her pocket. “I wouldn’t recommend this as a rule, ma’am, but a small nip might help.”

  I took the flask and smelled good brandy inside, so I accepted it, took a small sip, and gave it back to her. “It’s there when you need it, ma’am,” she told me as she replaced it in her pocket. I smiled my gratitude and headed for the stairs. Nichols followed, holding my train out of the way. I would like Nichols very well, a remarkably resourceful woman.

  The others waited for me in the hall. I savoured the communal gasp when they saw me caparisoned in the complete ensemble. Even my sister Lizzie was lost for words.

  Martha, Lizzie and Ruth kissed me and left, until only James, Nichols, the butler, and I remained. I took a deep breath, and let it out again, and then I noticed James, his handsome face tight with tension. Nichols glanced at the butler and led him out of the front door, in the direction of the carriages.

  “Come on then,” I said briefly.

  He didn’t move. “Rose?”

  I turned back to him. “Yes?”

  He took my hands and looked me in the eyes. “You’re sure about this?”

  I decided to tell the truth rather than try to dissimulate to my brother. “I’m not at all sure, but I’m as good as married now, so let’s get on with it, shall we?”

  I turned to go and then turned back to him. “I’ll tell you one thing, though.” He lifted an eyebrow in enquiry. “I wish I were getting married in the village, with only our friends about us.”

  He smiled. “So do I, but you shouldn’t have agreed to marry Lord Strang if that was what you wanted.” The atmosphere lightened. “I still think Tom Skerrit would have suited you. Have you thought it through properly?”

  I removed my hands from his grasp. “If I thought it through I’d run away now, but I have a feeling his lordship might follow me. He says he’s determined to have me, you know.”

  James sighed. “I know. I hope you’re doing the right thing.”

  I turned to the door. “So do I.” I stopped, before I left the house and gave him a grin. “Could you imagine the gossip if I didn’t turn up? They’d never forget it, and neither of us would ever live it down. Come on, we should be on our way.” At least I’d made him smile.

  It took a little time to dispose my gown and train so the least damage would be done to them on the journey, but we set off at last and were soon on the road to Exeter.

  The other coaches waited for us, as we didn’t want to risk robbery on the highway, a likely possibility, as everyone hereabouts knew what was happening and when. Not all our neighbours were honest.

  We took a detour through Darkwater, our local village, where most of the populace stood in their front gardens. I smiled and waved my fan, and they waved back. I had known most of them since I was a child, later helped them birth their children, helped the ill and the injured. The dark shadow of free trading hadn’t marked my relations with my neighbours until recently. The thought reminded me of the red rope burns from my recent imprisonment, lying under the pretty ruffles on my wrists. My mood clouded, but when we’d passed the village, I did my best to forget, and watched the gentle green of my native county pass us by.

  James and I passed the greater part of our journey in silence, a friendly silence born of the absence of the need to talk, but before we reached Exeter I asked Nichols for her flask. She passed it to me and I took a sip, then passed it to James.

  He accepted it with thanks and took a larger draught than I had. “I wish all ladies’ maids would think of something like this.”

  Nichols produced a paper of lozenges to sweeten our breath, making James laugh. “I must remember to mention this to Martha. Do you think she could persuade Hargreaves to do the same for her?”

  I shook my head. “I doubt it.” Martha’s maid had been with her since she was a girl, and she definitely wouldn’t approve.

  Despite the brandy, my nervousness increased with every mile.

  This was the greatest wedding of the season in Exeter; indeed even in London it would have been remarkable. Much of the town was on its doorstep to see us. I did my best to smile, but panic had me in its grip and for two pins I would have flung open the door, leaped to the ground and run.

  Soon we entered the Cathedral Close, crowded with people waiting to see the spectacle. We waited while the rest of the family alighted and went inside, Lizzie enjoying every moment.

  Then it was our turn. Nichols got down first, then James, and he helped me to step down. I stood while the maid attended to me, straightening my gown and pulling my train into place, and then there was no escape. I was ready.

  James and I stood together, waiting for the word from the Cathedral they were ready for us, both breathing deeply in an effort to recover some equilibrium. I looked at my brother, we smiled briefly at each other, then the sign came from the official in the porch, and we were off.

  Music was playing on the great organ inside, and the congregation turned to watch us as we entered. This was the worst moment of all, to be watched by so many people, so many strangers, and assessed by them all. I knew many of them would find me wanting, as I had netted a man many of them had set their caps at and then despaired of; who had been on the town for many years without getting caught. The walk up the aisle seemed to take forever. The Cathedral was a large, imposing building and its aisle correspondingly proportionate. I saw the Skerrits as I passed their pew, and took comfort in their familiar faces, but James led me relentlessly on towards the glittering figure I could now see standing before the altar.

  I could look at my lord as I approached him without meeting his gaze. Here, in his milieu he was supremely at home, as I was not. His appearance was almost unearthly. He had dressed in white velvet, embroidered in silver, sprinkled with brilliants, the finest Mechlin lace at his neck and wrists, the diamond he always wore to hold his neckcloth together winking in the gleaming folds. The perfectly dressed white figure seemed to me to be a field in winter, or the unearthly epitome of it, a figure from Nifleheim, the land of ice and snow that existed in the North before the gods came to bring order. Certainly nothing to do with me, that was for sure.

  He didn’t smile as I approached. He was watching me as was the rest of the cathedral’s congregation, but as I came up to stand by him, he let his gaze meet mine briefly, and I saw the man within, just for a moment. Then we turned to face the bishop, who waited to begin.

  Talking with other married women, I have found very few of them could remember the actual marriage service, but something had happened to me on that journey up the long aisle, a combination of brandy and panic. It was as if
I was floating above the assembled company, watching the ceremony impersonally, as though it was nothing to do with me. I saw the elegant, brilliant congregation, the two glittering figures at its head, but I felt nothing until James took my hand.

  I must have been giving my responses by rote, passing over that awful moment at the beginning when the bishop asked the people if they knew of any reason why we shouldn’t be married. I had dreaded that, the silence that might be broken so fatefully, because although there was no reason, some might have done it out of malice. I must have made my response, because James took my hand and placed it into Lord Strang’s, and I felt his touch for the first time that day. It brought me back into myself again, and when I lifted my gaze to his face to make my responses, I knew for sure that I was doing the right thing.

  We made our promises to each other, not to anyone else. Everything else, the grand costumes, the congregation, fell away from us. We could be standing in the middle of a field and the ceremony would have been just as sacred to me. I understood why he wasn’t smiling then—he meant it too, every word.

  He took the ring and placed it on my finger without looking at it. His gaze never left my face, and I didn’t look away to my hand, either. I kept my eyes on his, hearing his words as he made his promises, speaking my own as clearly as I could for him to hear.

  We knelt, and then the bishop joined our hands, blessed us and declared us man and wife. Only then did I believe it. After the prayers and responses, we sat to listen to the sermon, and I could begin to understand what had just happened. I felt steady, as cool now as before I’d felt flustered and full of panic, but I didn’t hear a word of what the Bishop said in his speech to the congregation.

  We took communion, and at the end of the service, Lord Strang offered me the support of his arm. We walked to the vestry to sign the register, followed by Richard’s twin brother, Gervase, and Lizzie, who were acting as our witnesses.

  We signed the book, and then, as I stood again to return to the Cathedral, he took me in his arms and murmured, “My wife.”

  He kissed me long and lovingly, just as though we were completely alone. Richard wasn’t given to public displays of affection, and in front of the bishop, his assistant and my sister and his brother, he gave me the kind of kiss we had only shared in private before. I should have felt embarrassed or strange in front of other people but I had longed to hold him since I first felt the touch of his hand. I only felt joy and relief it had happened, after all.

  I was now Lady Strang, Viscountess Strang of Strang in Shropshire, but more than that—I was the wife of Richard Kerre.

  Chapter Two

  RICHARD HELD OUT HIS arm for me and we walked back down the aisle at a stately pace, smiling and bowing in response to the congregation, hardly looking at each other—hardly daring to.

  Outside the cathedral, people waited for us to emerge, and when we appeared from the cool church into the light of day outside, they clapped and cheered. I spread my fan to cover my blushes, and Richard waved to them, but didn’t stop, heading in a leisurely way for the end of the path and the carriage waiting for us there. “The important thing is to keep moving,” he murmured to me as we stepped into the vehicle.

  It set off immediately, rolling out of the Close and towards the edge of the town. We nodded and acknowledged the crowds, the shopkeepers standing outside their establishments, the people who always gather for a spectacle, but when the crowds thinned out he turned to me. He was smiling now. “Well, my dear heart?”

  “Well?” I felt unaccountably shy.

  “You can’t go back,” he said, just as if he read my mind.

  I had no doubts now. “I don’t want to. As soon as I saw you I knew I was doing exactly what I wanted to do. Up until then, I was so afraid...”

  He lost the smile. “Of what, my love?”

  “Leaving everything I know behind, saying goodbye, foolish things.”

  He caressed my palm with his thumb. “None of those concerns are foolish. You’re bound to feel that. I know I could tell you we’ll come back, which we will, but nothing will be the same again. I only hope you come to believe that you’ve exchanged what you had once for something better.”

  He watched me, looking supremely elegant despite the seeming carelessness of his pose, and I smiled. I saw through the grand clothes and precious jewels and lace to the man beneath. The man I loved. “I’m sure of that now.” I grinned. “You outshone me. You’re magnificent.”

  “Believe me, I could never do that. With the look on your face as we came out of the vestry, the sun would be hard put to outshine you.”

  I frowned, concerned I’d shown too much. He disliked that. “Did it show? I tried so hard to be the great lady, to hold it all in, I didn’t want society to think I was nervous or so much in love I behaved improperly.”

  “It only showed to me. And perhaps to the few people in the vestry when I kissed you. But then, they saw my face as well.”

  He put his hand on mine and glanced out of the window behind me. We had reached open country. “Now at last I can say good morning the way I want to.” He drew me into his arms and kissed me.

  We were going to Peacock’s for the wedding breakfast. This was the house that belonged to the Skerrits—an old house near the coast that had amongst its treasures a very large half-timbered medieval Great Hall. When Sir George offered the use of his home, we accepted with alacrity, not only because the house was perfect, but also because of its proximity to the coast. When the time came, Richard and I could leave with the minimum of fuss for his yacht where we planned to spend the next few weeks on our bride-trip. Now I could spend the last part of the day with my love at my side, the prospect of hours more celebration didn’t appear quite so dreadful.

  We had left the city, so by mutual consent we abandoned propriety. He leaned back at his ease and slipped his arm about me, so I could pillow my head on his shoulder. The velvet coat felt soft and comforting and I snuggled against it. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I was up at dawn.”

  He moved his shoulder, settling me into its curve more securely. “I slept well all night, but it took a bottle of wine to render me that way.”

  “I wish I’d thought of that.”

  He sighed. “Not if you had the headache I woke up with. Gervase suggested I drink another bottle this morning to put my head in the right order but I had no intention of appearing at the altar in that state. I ducked my head in cold water and waited, and it went soon enough.” He laughed. “I’ve heard of, and seen, men at the altar hardly able to stand, but I don’t think any of them went willingly.” He turned his head to look at me, his eyes hot and needy, echoing the want echoing in my body. “I couldn’t wait,” he murmured, and tilted my chin to kiss me.

  The journey to Peacock’s would take at least an hour, a welcome respite in the all too public nature of the day, and I meant to enjoy it to the fullest, but despite my determination, I settled against his shoulder again and yawned. He put his hand over mine, and I fell asleep.

  I awoke with a start as the carriage jolted over a pothole. I was flustered and confused. “Oh, I’m sorry!”

  “What for?”

  “Falling asleep. I didn’t mean to, truly, and—”

  He squeezed my hand. “It was the most peaceful hour I’ve spent in weeks. I held you, and watched you. I’ll see you like that tomorrow, and the day after that, and as many days as you choose to allow me into your bed.”

  I smiled, mollified and then chuckled. “Still, I shouldn’t have slept.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not very romantic, is it?”

  He met my gaze. “On the contrary, I think it’s extremely romantic, and in any case, you needed it. You’ve been under a lot of stress in recent weeks what with one thing and another, and I intend to see you get as much rest as possible in the weeks to come.”

  I suddenly sat up, fully awake and startled, and he seized my arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “My
hair, I’m powdered...your beautiful coat!”

  I laughed. He’d had the foresight to tuck his handkerchief under my head so we should arrive relatively unmarked. He smiled when he saw my relief and drew me back against him.

  “Do you always think of everything?”

  The corner of his mouth tilted in a wry smile. “Rarely. If I had, that man would never have come near you, and you wouldn’t have these...” He took my hand, and eased back the ruffle on my wrist to reveal the red lines beneath. He touched the marks, with feather-light kisses I could hardly feel and restored the ruffle once more. “But he won’t trouble you any more, or anyone else for that matter.”

  I shuddered at the reminder of what we had done, although we’d had little choice.

  I deliberately put the thought from my mind and instead I put my arm around Richard’s waist, luxuriating in his warmth. “Can we go now? Turn the coach around and go straight to the yacht?”

  He laughed. “I’ve been thinking about that.” He took my hand and threaded his fingers between mine. “How good an actress are you?”

  I raised my brows. “I’ve not done much acting. It depends what you mean.” Amateur theatricals never included me because I couldn’t keep the masquerade up. I’d invariably giggle.

  “You know we’ve given it out you’ve been ill over the past few days, and that’s why you haven’t received any visitors?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled. “When we’ve met everybody at this damned wedding breakfast, accepted their felicitations, eaten, do you think you could have a relapse?” I laughed in delight, understanding him immediately. “We could retire then, and slip away to the coast before most people have started on their second bottle. Unless you prefer to stay, of course, but then you risk the bedding ceremony.” It was his turn to shudder.

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to stay, I’d much rather be alone with you. I think I can manage to faint.”

  “I thought you might.” He kissed me, his tongue lingering warmly in my mouth as if he never wanted to leave.