by Ann Jacobs
“Now, Sir Robert,” she began in a formal tone.
“You called me Rob a few moments ago.”
“It would be best for us both to put that out of our minds,” she offered.
Rob smiled and shook his head. “You think that is going to be possible?”
“I have serious doubts,” Anne admitted as she worked on making the cord. “Yet, we need have speech about this marriage you have proposed.”
“We’ve proven the physical side of marriage will be no hardship for either of us,” Rob replied.
Anne unsuccessfully fought the blush she felt rising to her face, but she kept working on her cord. “It would seem not.”
“Mayhaps you should tell me what is on your mind?” Rob said encouragingly.
“I have been my own mistress for the last decade. I am not eager to be once more under obligation to obey anyone, even you,” she confessed.
Rob nodded. “I see.”
“It is a reasonable concern,” she said defensively.
“Yes. For both of us. John Dod and Robert Cleaver wrote, ‘The husband who is not beloved of his wife, holdeth his goods in danger, his house in suspicion, his credit in balance, and also sometimes his life in peril, because it is easy to believe that she desireth not long life unto her husband, with whom she passeth a time so tedious and irksome.’”
Anne nodded, but her fingers continued making the smooth cord used for decoration of clothing and for laces. “I have read that book. A Godly Form of Household Government: for the Ordering of Private Families. According to the Direction of God’s Word. Indeed, I believe there to be a copy in the library. It has been reprinted many times.”
Rob smiled. “Indeed it has, my lady.”
Anne kept working her cord.
Rob sat watching her skillful fingers work. Finally, he asked, “When shall the wedding be?”
“We both have seen how low our ability to resist temptation is with one another. Were there still a provision for special license I would have already written the local bishop. But, since,” she began, but he cut her off.
“There no longer are bishops in England,” he partially finished her thought.
“Well, not any who are allowed to function in their capacity, at any rate,” she replied quietly.
“Speaking of bishops, what were you thinking to allow Cuthbert Hepburn to live under this roof?”
“Politics take a backseat to family concerns. Uncle Cuthbert needed a place to be. So, I took him in. He is an old man who is no threat to anyone.”
“His sons should have taken in him.”
“His sons are all dead.”
“His grandsons, then.”
“He has three grandsons remaining alive. Matthew is in Ireland trying, I gather in vain, to keep order in the holdings there. Andrew has turned Quaker. He’s practicing medicine in London. I understand he’s living and consulting in a single room above a shop near Fleet Street. He is dirt poor as Matthew has cut him off without an allowance in reaction to their heated disagreement about Andrew’s chosen religious convictions. Daniel turned Papist and went to live under solemn vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience in a Franciscan monastery in northern Italy. I understand that he has recently taken holy orders. To whom would you have me send Uncle Cuthbert? Which of these grandsons of his could provide a congenial environment for him?”
Rob sighed. “I see the point.”
“Uncle Cuthbert is a seventy-three year old man nearly crippled up from rheumatism. I fear his heart is not strong. He has no other place to go. Would you have me turn him out into the street?” Anne demanded, keeping her voice to a conversational level.
“No,” Rob replied. “I would not have you turn him out onto the street.”
Anne looked at Rob. “Good. As I would not obey you if you so ordered me. This is still Solway’s house and my first duty is to act as his guardian. John has a duty to care for him.”
Rob nodded. “I understand.”
“Marriage is a serious matter. We’ve rather taken some substantial leaps toward that state in the last hour or so,” Anne told him, trying not to be embarrassed by what had passed between them. Yet, she was embarrassed. She couldn’t help it.
“Yes,” Rob replied, his voice gentle. “It is a serious matter. And I will be a good and kind husband to you. You need have no fear on that account.”
Anne sighed. She had no doubt of that. She simply wished that she could forget the words of the royal command she had received. Although the paper had long since been burnt to ashes, the words remained engraved upon her mind. She had been nearly ready to accept his proposal before that royal command arrived. Perhaps she just needed to remember that she wasn’t marrying him because of the command, but in spite of it.
“We need to speak our minds with one another,” Anne told Rob.
“I have no mind when I look at you,” Rob answered her, his voice honest. “I have only desire and need.”
“We have already well demonstrated the mutuality of that,” Anne replied as she continued to make cord.
“The banns could be called starting Sunday. We could then be wed anytime during the week following the last publication,” Rob replied.
Anne chuckled as she rose from her chair. She retrieved a certificate from her desk. Then she returned to the fire and handed it to him.
Rob read it. Then he laughed heartily. “You’ve already had the banns called,” he said with surprise in his voice as he looked at her.
“I saw no need to wait. It is not binding without a ceremony. Many times banns are called and no marriage takes place,” she dismissed. “But I did have doubts that you would want to wait three weeks after your arrival to celebrate the marriage. I also had doubts that you would simply be willing to cross over into Scotland and marry there for sake of expediency. Therefore, this seemed the most prudent step.”
Rob couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “My lady, you are amazing.”
She sighed. “Merely practical. I’ve had a painting done to celebrate our betrothal. Well, it’s not exactly done. The artist awaits adding your image. It is mostly done, after almost three weeks of work. If you will grant him a few hours today, the portrait should be ready to hang tomorrow after the wedding ceremony.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Is there any sense in waiting?”
“No. I’m assuming the marriage will be celebrated in the village Church?”
“I was thinking of the chapel here, as I fear the weather will not cooperate to allow travel even to the village.”
“The law requires this to be in a place set aside for public worship.”
“The chapel here is a duly consecrated place of worship. It was set aside for the worship of God in the year of our Lord 1350, and has been in continuous use since then. There are times no one on the estate can travel any distance, as in this weather. We have services in the chapel then. His Majesty, Henry VIII, paid a royal visit here and worshipped with the family in the chapel. Even Major-General Lilburne has been known to attend Sunday morning exercises here on his visits up and down the coast. I have letters from him thanking me for offering him hospitality and remarking upon the Sunday services he attended in the chapel.”
Rob looked at her. Then he shook his head and sighed. “Very well. Tomorrow morning?”
“Nay. Evening, before supper. The household staff has already threatened a mutiny if I do not allow them to put on as festive of a wedding as possible. That means they will need time tomorrow to decorate and cook. And besides, you have to sit for a portrait.”
“Madame, you are a managing female,” Rob told her, affection in his voice.
“Aye, sir. I am. I am also too old to change. The woman you see before you is the woman with whom you will spend the rest of your life. If the prospect quells, then now is the time to cry off,” she warned. “Well, sir. I would know your mind.”
“The only crying off likely to happen will be done by you, my lady. Are you willing to tak
e me to husband, although you know my faults?”
“All have faults, Rob. Mine are legion.”
Rob smiled at her and reached for her hand. She placed her gloved hand in his. “Then we are truly well matched, my lady.”
Anne wanted to hope so. Yet, instead of holy matrimony, she was very much afraid that the state they were entering would be unholy acrimony especially if he ever learned of the royal command she had received. That would be a secret worth killing to keep.
Chapter Three
Everyone was standing around the dining table in the great hall. The servants had just laid the dishes of the first course. It was mid-day and time for dinner, the main meal of the day. Down the center of the table, dishes sat in symmetrical arrangement, for people to serve themselves from as a buffet.
Joshua Fielding looked at the dishes. Then he looked at Anne. Then he looked back at the meal. The dishes were mostly fish or seafood of one kind or other. A tureen of a thick pea soup started the arrangement. There was a platter containing two large spit-roasted, almond-stuffed fish with a special wine sauce. It smelled delightfully of oranges and cinnamon. There was a small whole salmon poached in beer and herbs with a touch of vinegar. Next to it were gingered and herbed collars of boiled boneless eel, served with orange slices and a sauce of oil and mustard. Pickled green cucumbers filled a dish. Crisp cakes of crabmeat were piled high on another plate. A bowl full of sliced candied pickled beetroots came next. This was followed by an oyster and eel pie sweetened with both raisins and currants. Cheese fritters sprinkled with sugar and rosewater were next. A salad of pickled artichokes and broom capers with lemon slices followed. Fresh baked white bread was sliced and on a platter.
“My lady, do you keep Advent in this house?” he asked carefully, with suspicion in his voice.
Anne smiled. “Mr. Fielding, we eat what is available. This time of year, that is primarily fish and seafood, along with preserved foods from summer. We shall have beef and goose, both roasted, as part of the wedding supper tomorrow. Uncle Cuthbert, would you bless this meal?”
“Bless, dear Lord, this food to our use and us to Thy ever faithful service. Make us ever mindful of the needs of others, even as we are in the midst of plenty. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen,” Cuthbert offered in a pain-filled voice.
Everyone echoed the Amen before they began to help themselves to the food.
Anne smiled at her uncle-in-law. Days like today, the old dear’s rheumatism was extremely painful. She hated to see him in such discomfort. Yet, he would not take the potions to relieve the pain. He didn’t like how they slowed his mind.
Joshua Fielding had engaged Uncle Cuthbert in theological discussion. They were civil to one another, although they strongly disagreed with one another in several areas. Yet, that was to be expected.
Anne’s mind wondered as she began running the logistics for getting the wedding done through her head. The timing was going to be tight. Anne only hoped that she would not have cause to regret this marriage.
“What say you, Niece?” Cuthbert asked.
Anne looked at her Uncle-in-law. “I do beg your pardon, Uncle. I fear my mind was elsewhere.”
Cuthbert smiled at her. “Indeed. That is to be expected of a young woman before a wedding,” he said indulgently.
“No longer young, my dear,” she corrected.
The old man laughed. “Niece, when you get to be my age, then you can talk about being no longer young. You are in the prime of your life.”
Anne smiled at him, then her expression became serious. “You are not eating, Uncle. Should I have something else prepared for you? What would you find appetizing?”
“I have never been served a bad meal in this house,” Cuthbert replied with a smile. He picked up his fork and ate a bite of the piece of poached salmon he had taken. “This meal was not the first. The fish is excellent as usual.”
“If you are certain,” Anne replied, her voice worried. “I’m sure Mistress Giddings would be only too happy to prepare you something else, if you find this array unappealing.”
Cuthbert laughed, then took another bite. “Sir Robert, you see the sort of woman you are marrying. She is a managing female.”
Rob smiled. “There are worse fates than to be managed by such a lady.”
“Well, Niece, are you happy with your selection of a second husband?” Cuthbert asked.
“Of course, Uncle,” Anne replied quietly before she sipped her ale.
“I must second Mister Hepburn’s comments about the excellence of the meal, my lady,” Joshua Fielding stated. “I have never eaten eel as delicious as this.”
“Thank you. It is my own receipt,” Anne replied.
Rob’s cousin Captain Sir Nathaniel Barrow chuckled. “Beautiful, charming, and accomplished in the art of cooking. Rob, you are incredibly lucky.”
“I am aware of that,” Rob told them with a smile on his face. “Lady Solway is remarkable.”
Anne warned lowly, “Do not have false expectations, Sir Robert. I am merely a woman, with many of the faults typical of my sex. We have known one another for far too many years that you should have any expectations to the contrary.”
“I have no false expectations,” Rob stated.
“I sincerely hope not,” Anne replied, but her voice conveyed her doubt.
“I stand convinced, my lady,” Major Clay said in a gentle tone. “No couple knows one another well enough to consider marriage until they are wed for some time.”
“That may well be true,” Anne acknowledged. “Yet once that step is taken, it is too late to change one’s mind.”
Cuthbert spoke up after he sipped his ale. “I have performed marriage ceremonies for no fewer than six hundred couples during my active ministry. I could foretell which marriages would be happy and which would not, simply by interviewing the couple.”
“And what would you be looking for in that interview?” Joshua asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Cuthbert finished his fish before speaking. “The maturity of the couple. Their affection for, and commitment to, one another. The lack of bad habits in both of them. If either were habitual in resort to vices, the marriage was doomed to unhappiness from day one.”
Joshua Fielding nodded. “That makes a good deal of sense. One can see how discord might be forthcoming were the woman not virtuous.”
Cuthbert shook his head as if to dismiss that, “A man usually knows at the onset if his wife has not been chaste. Surprises in that regard have always been subject to annulment. That has never been a real problem. I’ve found more to be concerned about the marriage if the man were prone to drink in excess or gaming beyond his means or was chronically short of temper and prone to violence or if he were a lazy layabout unwilling to work. Women are at the mercy of the men in their lives. To have a man be less than merciful and strong in his abilities to provide and care for his wife is a receipt for disaster.”
The men at the table were silent for a moment.
Sir Nathaniel Barrow spoke, “You speak from decades of experience in this matter. What would your best advice be to any gentleman seeking a bride?”
Cuthbert sipped his ale before he spoke. “People are as happy as they allow themselves to be and no more. Happiness in marriage depends not on the perfection of one’s spouse, but on the willingness to quietly enjoy one another’s company and on the respect that each holds for the other, even when disagreeing. Passion fades away. Love endures even beyond the grave. Every marriage faces challenges. Life is a series of challenges. We struggle with many things in life. With God’s help, and the assistance of a good wife, men manage to overcome difficulties. That is my advice.”
Rob sipped his ale. “Seems to be good advice, my lord Bishop,” he said quietly. “I shall take it to heart.”
Cuthbert nodded after he finished his food. “There is better advice. It comes from St. Paul’s own epistles. Read First Corinthians, the thirteenth chapter, for a description of charity. This is
the kind of charity that we all should strive for in our relationships with others, always seeking to imitate God’s love for us in our love for others, particularly those others closest to us.”
“Shall I have the second course laid?” Anne asked.
Cuthbert nodded. “By all means. What have you to tempt our palates, Niece?”
“Apple pasties. Shell bread. Countess cakes. Ginetoes. Red gingerbread. Marzipan bacon. Cheeses, preserved pears, and oranges. I must ask your forgiveness for such a sparse dinner.”
“No one goes hungry from the table, my lady,” Rob replied gently.
“No one ever goes hungry from my table, Sir Robert, nor from the servants’ table in the kitchen. We may not always have the food we would prefer, but all bellies in this house are filled with as good of things as we can muster,” Anne replied. “And none of my household, not even a scullery maid, goes bare of foot or threadbare of cloth. I provide well for my household.”
Rob nodded. “Indeed, my lady, no one said otherwise.”
“The artist will want you to sit for him this afternoon, Sir Robert. Pray, do me the favor of appearing before him in your wedding clothes. I should like this image to accurately depict us as we shall be tomorrow,” Anne stated.
“Aye, my lady, that was my intention,” Rob stated with a smile.
“Thank you.”
The servants cleared the remnants of the first course away and laid the second course on the table.
Anne cast a critical eye on the chargers filled with sweets. She didn’t even like to think of the number of hours of labor all this represented. The marzipan bacon and the Countess cakes had been made right after the almond harvest. Strips of red and white marzipan had been put together, then collops cut and dried to make the marzipan bacon. The Countess cakes were another dried almond paste confection. The apple pasties were little fried pies filled with reconstituted dried apples and raisins with cinnamon. Shell bread were little rich cakes baked in mussel shells. The ginetoes were a sweet pretzel. The red gingerbread was a molded gingerbread made with red wine. Anne had remembered that it was a favorite sweet of Rob’s. She had preserved the pears herself this last fall and the cheeses were from the home-farm dairy.
