Chapter 7. No Wedding Bells

Since the June day in that garden overgrown in some areas with weeds, but blooming in other areas with promise and hope, to where she stood now in the little country kitchen at Hanwell Farm peeling potatoes and mixing pie dough, “Mrs. William Harcourt” woke up every morning as if she were on a new adventure. She was preparing an evening meal for her husband but couldn't help from daydreaming about him as she looked out the window at the wheat field stretching over seemingly endless acres of land.

 

A perfectly blue sky, framed only on one side at the bottom of the horizon by an edging of fir trees in the distance, enveloped the two story cottage house with the honey gold walls. The clean, white linen curtains stirred softly with the occasional summer breeze. She held a paring knife in one hand and a starchy potato in the other but could not seem to concentrate on any of her chores for long. It seemed her mind kept turning toward thoughts of her new “trial period” husband.

 

Well, it was a trial period for both of them. That's what they referred to this as... the trial marriage of sorts, for lack of a better word. She really wished there had been church bells ringing on the day they'd wed. That was the one thing she had really missed, besides having her father present. She had been comforted knowing her heavenly Father had been with her.

Other than the fact they'd had no marital relations, the early days and weeks of the marriage had gone very well... He was a quiet man, so it was hard to guess what his thoughts might be. She thought back to the day in the garden at the little house on Peach Street. He had surprised her when he'd suggested that he drive her to pack her things after that walk in the garden. He had helped her up into her curricle, lifting her easily into the seat with his hands around her slight waist. She was always surprised by the butterfly feelings he stirred in her at even his slightest touch. He'd been a perfect gentleman with her, too perfect. She seemed ready to embrace their new life together while he held back, testing her. It almost infuriated her. God, give me patience, she prayed.

 

The young servant boy she'd come to know as Benjamin Trimmel had followed them in a wagon with two slow paced but steady mules at a great distance behind, under the orders of her new husband to-be. She had been excitedly nervous on that drive to her little home. She didn't own it though, so it would be easy in some respects to say good-bye. The house held so many happy memories of her father, and sad ones too, memories of missing her mother.

 

They were able to slip in and out of the manse without notice. Several bags, a few boxes and crates, a portmanteau and three trunks were carefully packed; loaded to the gills with books, hats, dishes, pots and pans, linens, blankets, shoes, boots, coats, pictures, baskets, jars and jams, and clothing.

 

Ben had carried numerous hat boxes, a few more bags, packed at the last minute... and a few small pieces of furniture to the wagon. A small cherry writing desk and chair, her vanity and the matching bench, and one favored rocking chair were handed up to William. Her future husband had stood in the wagon with one leg bent at the knee and perched on the back edge, his sleeves rolled up, patiently positioning items. He'd looked so handsome standing there and packing her things to bring her along into his world. At the same time, it struck her how little they really knew about each other... yet she still had this unusual feeling of peace.

 

Her groom had carefully covered each piece with a cherished quilt she refused to leave behind. There was a last minute request to make room on the wagon for a small china cabinet and like a good husband would, William had obeyed with mild reluctance. She hadn't known he'd been thinking she would have more furniture than she knew what to do with when she finally realized who he really was... but it had briefly occurred to him as he loaded items onto the wagon and tied them securely in place that each of the possessions she packed were a small reminder of who she was and who she'd come from. He understood she would need each piece of her treasured possessions … as much as he needed the pictures of his mother and the things that had been in his own family for generations. He could almost picture his bride at Ivy Clifton, enjoying the things he'd always rather taken for granted. What surprises he had in store for her if this marriage worked out the way he hoped it would!

 

Every clock and piece of silverware, each glassware and platter or goblet seemed to fit neatly in crates. Then into the wagon the crates went. She didn't have an overabundance of anything. It made packing move along quickly. William had pointed out things to her which he already owned in case she didn't want to waste time packing items she didn't want to duplicate, so she was able to leave a number of items behind for the next vicar or tenant. Benjamin had located the packing crates in the small attic and brought them down for packing. She wrapped fragile items in towels and tissue paper and handed them to William. He had neatly packed them into the crates, boxes and trunks.

 

They worked quickly, anxious to start their new adventure together. Her stable hand, Jake, came along eventually, and once she explained that she was going to marry the man she'd introduced as William, with Benjamin helping too, the task of packing sped along. They worked room by room together until they reached hers. She shooed them all away to pack her clothing and toiletry items in private. William steered the boys in the direction of loading the wagon.

 

The two boys seemed curious about the situation but they could also smell both adventure and romance in the air and kept busy doing whatever was given to them to do without making remarks or asking questions. Alexandra carefully packed her trunks with all of her personal garments, shoes, linens and books. Her perfume, powder and talc, brush, comb and mirror fit neatly in a portmanteau for the journey along with a few dresses, a bonnet and nightgown. She packed her sewing box, crochet needles, embroidery hoops and patterns into one of the trunks as well. There had been a few more pictures and books to fit in the trunks, and her father's well-worn Bible, along with her own. She had to wrap her pitcher and basin in towels and carefully pack them among her clothing so they wouldn't chip in the rickety wagon. Eventually she'd finished packing everything she wanted to take to her new life except what she laid out on the bed for her wedding ceremony beside her portmanteau.

 

When the wagon was finally loaded, the boys sat on the front porch to rest. William looked over her shoulder while she finished last minute tasks. A few necessary but short letters were penned and a basket of breads, cheeses and marmalade thoughtfully packed for the journey and sent with the boys to the wagon. She walked through each room in the little house once again and in this way, the house was baid farewell in her heart.

 

When she'd reached her own little room for the last time, she laid aside the work apron that had protected her dress during the packing process and slipped out of her day dress and carefully into her mother's wedding gown. It had been hanging in her wardrobe for years now, carefully wrapped and protected from the elements. She was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't damaged or wrinkled too badly. She placed her day dress and apron in the portmanteau along with a few things she'd chosen for the journey ahead. Her nerves felt jittery in a way she couldn't even begin to describe, even a little light headed with excitement.

 

Wordlessly, and trembling, she arranged her hair, some up and some down. Then she unwrapped the long, slim package on her bed, pulling away folds of unwrapped tissue paper, revealing what had been her mother's sheer bridal veil. It was as long as the back of her knees after she'd secured it with pins to her hair.

 

She stepped in front of the oval dressing mirror to pin a few sprigs of tiny bell shaped flowers around her curls. Jake had brought them to her from the garden. The ivory white silk dress flowed all the way to the floor and she stood back to admire it. It was still as lovely as it had been the first time she'd seen it. Hundreds of tiny ivory and pearl colored beads had been sewn into the bodice of the gown.

 

The bodice and square neckline fit her snugly. More ivory silk draped the front of the gown and was pulled up in the back to her waist where it flared out into a bustle. Under the bustle the gown flowed to a simple but elegant three foot train trimmed in rippled chiffon ruffles. The sleeves were puffy three quarter length sleeves which flared out at the edge with three inch wide lace.

 

She stepped back into her blue satin slippers. She'd need help with her mother's pearl necklace. She didn't have a bouquet to carry but she had the old (and borrowed) veil and dress; and something blue, her pale blue slippers. …The new, the flowers that adorned her hair.

 

She slipped a long cream colored lace shawl, folded neatly in loose folds, through her arms at the elbows. It draped almost to the floor, tipped with ivory fringe. When she looked in the mirror, she was surprised to see that for the first time, she really looked and felt like a bride. She could almost see her mother looking back at her from her own reflection in the mirror. She blinked a lone tear back, wishing her parents were there to see her today. No matter... she took a deep breath and determined to be stoic. She hadn't counted on all the doubts rushing through her mind or the fact that she hadn't quite pictured her wedding day to be quite this secret. She hadn't thought she'd end up marrying a perfect stranger. She reminded herself that if it didn't work out, he'd promised her an annulment. Lord Jesus, get me through this day … fill me with a little more joy... help me to make this a happy and memorable day!

 

She said her last good-bye to her room and took a deep breath. Her gown rustled as the train of her dress followed her into the little parlor, alerting him to her presence. He turned from the window where he'd been looking out at the wagon, wondering if it was going to make the journey. He turned to face her and she presented herself to him gingerly, glad the boys weren't in the room at that moment. She had wanted this moment alone with him.

 

He'd been calmly and intermittently pacing the parlor floor. She thought he looked as nervous as she about the idea of the two of them barely knowing each other, about to wed. Somehow, after all the packing, they felt a little less like strangers and more like friends. In truth, he was nervous about the whole situation, but had been more overcome by the emotion of relief than anything else... relieved to have found a bride he thought he could love. He found himself equally apprehensive about the ceremony ahead of them. He was at least prepared. He'd been carrying the special license around in his pocket for days now and had already spoken to a clergyman situated in a scenic small parish on the western outskirts of London about his unique circumstance.

 

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.

 

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.