The smiling faces were all familiar, all friends from her childhood, members of her household, villagers she had known all her life. Yet at that moment she could not have put a name to a single one of them, her entire attention focused on the tall dark figure whose garnet-red jacket glowed like a beacon at the altar steps.
Snatches of overheard words reached her ears but meant nothing. The old building was full of sound, the rustle of best clothes, the whimpering of small children, coughing and clearing of throats, all of it could have been a hundred miles away as Matthew turned to face her.
She was close enough to see his expression change from sombre calm to warm welcome and knew then that all the hours of preparation that morning had not been in vain. She could not doubt he found her beautiful and desirable.
The lingering warmth in his eyes in the moment before he turned back dutifully to the altar and the waiting vicar unfroze her numbness and she became conscious of sensation again. Beneath her fingers the rich stuff of Lawyer Stone's best coat, through the thin soles of her embroidered slippers the cold of the stone floor, the tickling caress of her hair on her bare shoulders, all this and the low buzz of voices in the church hit her as if she had just opened a door.
And she knew also, as clearly as if someone had opened a door in her mind, that she could fall in love with Matthew. They reached the altar steps at last and she glanced shyly up at her bridegroom, convinced that her awareness of him must show on her face.
Matthew had grudged no effort for his wedding day. Newly trimmed, his hair curled thickly on the heavy lace of his collar, the deep red velvet of his coat moulded his lean, well-muscled body, the darker breeches emphasised the length of his legs, clad to the knee in burnished black leather boots.
He put out a hand to receive her from Lawyer Stone and Henrietta saw that the only adornment on his long fingers was the ring she had given him at their betrothal. She glanced up at his face again, but his attention was on Mr Halsey as he opened his address to the congregation. Dutifully Henrietta followed the words, trying not to let the disturbing presence at her side distract her from the seriousness of what she was about to enter into.
If the old vicar, Mr Hale, had still been alive she might have gone to him and told him of her divided loyalties to James and to Matthew, sought his counsel. But she knew little of Mr Halsey beyond his willingness to obey every directive of Parliament concerning the running of the church. The vivid wall-paintings depicting death and redemption that had survived the purges of Edward's reign had been whitewashed in the past year, leaving the church unadorned. No doubt he would be as eager to obey the rumoured directives to make all things in the church as plain. No, this was not a man to trust with a Royalist secret.
As she rose from her knees beside Matthew Henrietta could see the tombs of past Wynters in what had once been the Lady Chapel. Knights and their ladies lay in effigy, lapdogs or lions at their feet, forever frozen in stone. On the wall a new tablet stood out from the rest, the writing sharply chiselled, as yet unworn by time. Her parents' names and that of James were clear from where she stood and the mason would be coming from Oxford soon to add the short record of Francis's life.
Matthew's fingers tightened on hers and she realised he had followed her eyes. ‘They would have told you this is the right thing, Henrietta.’ His whisper was so low that she sensed rather than heard the words, but she pressed his fingers in return, grateful for his unexpected understanding.
The vicar began on the vows and Henrietta listened with a full heart to Matthew's clear, firm voice repeating the words. She watched his face and saw the fleeting touch of pain as he spoke the final phrase, ‘. . .'til Death us do part.’
He was thinking about his first wife, about Sarah whom he had loved and lost, and, true to his vow, was loving even now beyond death. It might be a sin to be jealous but how could she ever rival the perfect memory of the other woman when she was only human and imperfect?
‘Henrietta?’ The vicar was prompting her and she gathered her painfully wandering thoughts. Whatever Matthew's feelings for her she had her duty to do, and that duty began with the vows she was about to take.
She spoke clearly and calmly, her voice audible in every part of the packed church as she swore to love, honour and obey the man beside her. The first was perhaps going to be possible, whether she liked it or not, the last two were more difficult – they would only be attained when she had got rid of the casket according to her conscience. She made a silent vow to herself to fulfil those promises as swiftly as possible.
The cong
regation launched into a psalm and Henrietta found herself isolated in the sea of sound beside Matthew, her husband. At the end of the first ragged chorus the vicar led them to the vestry to sign the register. The old book held the record of her parents' marriage, her birth, the burials of her father and James. She took the pen from Matthew's hand and signed her old name for the last time, the last Wynter ever to sign in that book.
‘You may kiss the bride.’ Mr Halsey appeared to regard this as a necessary but distasteful part of the ceremony. Blushing, Henrietta lifted her face to Matthew who took her lips in a warm, gentle kiss.
Aunt Susan, who was signing the register as a witness along with Lawyer Stone, Alice and Robert, looked up and sighed sentimentally. ‘How overjoyed your dear mother would have been to see you so happily married. I feel I have fulfilled my promise to her today.’
‘Now, now, my love, don't weep.’ Lawrence Stone hurriedly produced a large kerchief and dabbed her cheeks for her. ‘It will be our turn next, and I wish it with all my heart.’
‘Oh, Lawrence.’ Susan began to weep in earnest until Matthew bent to kiss her cheek.
‘I'll not have tears at my wedding, my dear aunt, if I may call you so. Not even though they are of joy.’
‘Are you not going to kiss Alice too?’ Henrietta asked slyly, knowing her friend's soft spot for her handsome bridegroom.
‘Willingly.’ He clasped Alice's rounded figure and gave her a smacking kiss under Robert's tolerant eye, leaving her flushed and giggling. ‘And now, Lady Sheridan, if you are ready?’
Matthew offered her his left arm and she rested her fingertips lightly on the soft pile of the velvet doublet, feeling the hardness of muscle beneath. Her heart was beating faster than the measured steps they were taking down the length of the aisle. The bright sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting pools of colour on the grey stone flags as they walked past the rows of beaming faces, the knots of flowers Alice and the girls had tied to the pew ends, and out into the brilliant sunshine.
The villagers had turned out in force, forming in chattering groups along the church path, enjoying the spectacle and their rare holiday. Behind their parents' backs children played tag among the gravestones, dodging in and out of the lichened tablets until the sudden peal of bells brought them running to gape with the rest.
A party of village maidens were giggling in their Sunday best, baskets of rose petals and rosemary on their arms. As the wedding party emerged they began to strew them on the path before them to be crushed sweetly underfoot.
As they passed under the lych gate two small children, a boy and a girl, were pushed forward by their curtsying mothers to present tight nosegays of hedgerow flowers for both Henrietta and Matthew.
‘Your people are loyal,’ Matthew remarked as they turned to walk slowly up the hard-packed chalk road towards the house.
‘Our people now.’ Henrietta smiled up at him. No matter what happened in the future she would always have this in her memory as a perfect moment: her husband, tall and handsome at her side, the joyful faces surrounding them, the bells pealing out over a countryside at peace at last after eight years of civil strife and uncertainty.
‘I am glad we have married this year,’ Matthew said quietly. He saw her puzzled look and added, ‘Of course, you would not know, but there is much talk now of ending the ceremony we have just gone through and replacing it with a civil one.’