The Eyre Affair (Thursday Next 1)

; “Was this your doing?” he asked at last.

“No, indeed,” I replied. “I confess I came here to interrupt the wedding but my nerve failed me.”

He looked at me.

“Why?”

“Why? Well, because . . . because I thought I’d make a better Mrs. Parke-Laine than Daisy, I suppose.”

“I know that,” exclaimed Landen, “and agree wholeheartedly. What I wanted to know is why your nerve failed you. After all, you chase after master criminals, indulge in high-risk SpecOps work, will quite happily go against orders to rescue comrades under an intense artillery barrage, yet—”

“I get the point. I don’t know. Maybe those sorts of yes-or-no life-and-death decisions are easier to make because they are so black and white. I can cope with them because it’s easier. Human emotions, well . . . they’re just a fathomless collection of grays and I don’t do so well on the midtones.”

“Midtones is where I’ve lived for the past ten years, Thursday.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I had a lot of trouble reconciling what I felt for you and what I saw as your betrayal of Anton. It was an emotional tug-of-war and I was the little pocket handkerchief in the middle, tied to the rope, not moving.”

“I loved him too, Thursday. He was the closest thing to a brother that I ever had. But I couldn’t hang onto my end of the rope forever.”

“I left something behind in the Crimea,” I murmured, “but I think I’ve found it again. Is there time to try and make it all work?”

“Bit eleventh-hour, isn’t it?” he said with a grin.

“No,” I replied, “more like three seconds to midnight!”

He kissed me gently on the lips. It felt warm and satisfying, like coming home to a roaring log fire after a long walk in the rain. My eyes welled up and I sobbed quietly into his collar as he held me tightly.

“Excuse me,” said the vicar, who had been lurking close by. “I’m sorry to have to interrupt, but I have another wedding to perform at three-thirty.”

We muttered our apologies and stood up. The wedding guests were still waiting for some sort of decision. Nearly all of them knew about Landen and me and few, if any, thought Daisy a better match.

“Will you?” asked Landen in my ear.

“Will I what?” I asked, stifling a giggle.

“Fool! Will you marry me?”

“Hmm,” I replied, heart thumping like the artillery in the Crimea. “I’ll have to think about it!—”

Landen raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Yes! Yes, yes! I will, I will, with all my heart!”

“At last!” said Landen with a sigh. “The lengths I have to go to to get the woman I love! . . .”

We kissed again but for longer this time; so long in fact that the vicar, still staring at his watch, had to tap Landen on the shoulder.

“Thank you for the rehearsal,” said Landen, shaking the vicar vigorously by the hand. “We’ll be back in a month’s time for the real thing!”

The vicar shrugged. This was fast becoming the most ludicrous wedding of his career.

“Friends,” announced Landen to the remaining guests, “I would like to announce the engagement of myself to this lovely SpecOps agent named Thursday Next. As you know, she and I have had our differences in the past but they are now quite forgotten. There is a marquee at my house stuffed with food and drink and I understand Holroyd Wilson will be playing from six o’clock onward. It would be a crime to waste it all so I suggest we just change the reason!”

There was an excited yell from the guests as they started to organize transport for themselves. Landen and I went in my car but we drove the long way round. We had plenty to talk about and the party . . . well, it could continue without us for a while.

The celebrations didn’t finish until 4 A.M. I drank too much and took a cab back to the hotel. Landen was all for me staying the night, but I told him slightly coquettishly that he could wait until after the wedding. I vaguely remember getting back to my hotel room but nothing else; it was blackness until the phone rang at nine the following morning. I was half dressed, Pickwick was watching breakfast TV, and my head ached like it was fit to burst.

It was Victor. He didn’t sound in a terribly good mood but politeness was one of his stronger points. He asked me how I was.