Winter Wedding (21 page)

“Ah well,” he said resignedly. “She would not want to come with him. She bruises easily.”

“So do I!” his mother said, rubbing her hip. “I shall warn Charity another time not to place him within arm’s length of me.”

“You should have worn your corsets, Mama,” Maggie quizzed. “Would you like me to go with you for company, Ben?”

“I would like your company to go, but then you would be in the carriage for the return trip as well, and three, you know, is a crowd,” he replied frankly.

“You see how it will be once he is shackled, Mama!”

“I have some hope that from now on, Ben won’t be living in his carriage,” his mother laughed.

It was four when Ben left. The falling darkness slowed his journey, and he did not arrive till eight. At Branelea, meals had returned to their regular country hours. By eight Clara and Lady Lucker were sitting before the grate in the gold saloon, mending their stockings while Sir James sorted his Roman coins at a table on the side.

They all looked to the doorway when they heard the knocker sound. “Someone has lost a wheel or lamed a nag, and has come back to find a night’s free lodging,” Lady Lucker scolded.

Clara said nothing, but her face turned pale, and her heart beat fiercely in her breast. Within seconds Ben loomed in the doorway, still wearing his great coat and holding his curled beaver in his hand. He directed one long, hard stare at Clara before turning to his aunt.

“You’ve never brought that girl back here!” was Lady Lucker’s chilly welcome.

“Nel is with the Bertrams in London,” he answered. Halfway through the sentence he turned to glare again at Clara.

“Why are you here then?” his aunt asked, alive with curiosity.

“Mama asked me to see if Miss Christopher would come to us for a visit.”

Clara was surprised and elated that he had come so soon. He must have left the minute he heard from Percy that she was not coming to London. Such eagerness for her company was, of course, highly flattering, but she realized full well she would have to account for her not being there. The dark looks directed on her by the caller left her in no doubt on that score.

“I cannot part with Clara just yet,” Lady Lucker said. “Peg spoke to me about having her at Braemore later, but with Prissie gone and winter stretching drearily before us, I cannot like to part with her just yet.”

“I am afraid you must, Auntie,” he said in a voice that brooked no denial. He turned to Clara again and directed one final scorching look at her.

Charity Lucker was the sharpest woman in the parish, but from having her mind totally occupied with the intricacies of Prissie’s wedding, she had failed to notice that Ben was in love with Clara. It was not slow in coming to her that she had missed out on an occurrence of major importance. Once she realized it, she acted with the greatest promptitude, for she had grown peculiarly fond of Clara Christopher and thought she would make Ben a wonderful, economical wife. Her way of stretching a penny would more than make up for her lack of a dowry in the long haul. She could not have been happier if Clara had been a great heiress.

“In that case, I daresay you two have a dozen plans to make,” she smiled, and rose. “James, dear, will you just come along with me a moment,” she began, trying to give the lovers privacy.

“Eh? What’s that?” he asked, peering over the top of his spectacles.

“I want to speak to you, dear.”

“Yes, yes. In a moment. I think I have got a rare coin here. See the date—” He took up his magnifying glass to read numbers into an accumulation of rust and mud. He remained unmovable, and with a swift shift of plans, Lady Lucker turned to Ben. “Why do you two not go into the study? There is a fire lit, for James usually plays with his coins in there.” A fire lit in an unused chamber required an excuse, to her own conscience if no one else.

“Excellent,” Ben said. He tossed his hat aside, took off his coat, and put out his hand to Clara. With no more signs of all her discomposure than a shy smile and a color a little heightened, Clara went with him to stand before an extremely meager fire in the study grate.

Ben turned to face her, a spark kindling his eyes. “Explain yourself, young lady,” he said in a strained voice.

“I—I assumed you had an explanation from Percy’s house, in London. He is ill you see, and so of course our trip was put off.”

“And of course you could not have come to
me!
Clara, you
promised faithfully.”

“I had no way of getting there.”

“There must have been dozens of carriages making the trip from Branelea to London today.”

She forbore going into the intricacies of not announcing to the guests that Lady Lucker’s trip was off and said instead, “But where could I stay? I could not go barging into your house uninvited. I had no idea whether you would have room...”

“Aunt Charity knows very well we have fourteen bedrooms! Not even a line or a word to let me know.”

“There was no time. And it would be improper to write to you when we are not engaged or anything.”

He looked as if she had struck him. “Not engaged?” he asked, astonished. “Clara, we are practically married! I have already ordered the wedding dinner. What have I been doing the past days if not proposing my head off? You haven’t shown any aversion to the idea. Really this caution goes beyond understanding. It is inexcusable. You should be—I don’t know what is
bad
enough for you. You should be dunked like a common scold, in a cold pond in December.”

Warmed by his angry love, she said in a teasing way, “Or have both my legs broken?”

“It would keep you in one place at least.”

“But I have stayed in one place, and you don’t like that either,” she pouted.

“It was the wrong place. I wanted you
there,
with me.”

“Well, I am here with you now,” she pointed out.

“You shouldn’t be. Not engaged!” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Clara, really—what did you mean by leading me on in the parlor in front of Maximilian if you don’t consider yourself engaged?”

“I was not leading you on! You leapt at me—and you never breathed a syllable about marriage either.”

“I suppose till I go down on my bended knee and tell you I love you half-a-dozen times you won’t realize that rather obvious fact either.”

“Very true. You come to know me uncommonly well. A lady dare not admit she’s smitten till she gets her offer,” she replied, refusing to be cowed by his temper.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.
I love you,”
he repeated again and again, his voice rising with anger and impatience. “Dammit, I have loved you forever, Clara, as you know very well.”

“That’s five,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers.

“I love you. That’s six,” he said, advancing toward her with a menacing scowl.

“I am glad to hear it, because you look as if you mean to murder me,” she said, retreating toward the grate as he advanced.

“Don’t you have something to add to that—five or six times?”

“Well, I suppose I love you, too,” she said uncertainly.

“Not good enough, miss!” His hands rose as he leaned toward her.

“All right! I love you!” she shrieked, jumping back as if in fright. “Oh dear, I am not at all sure I want to marry a savage ape!” she said, laughing.

“Tame me then,” he said softly. Already a tamer air hung around him, and a tender light glowed in his eyes. “Stroke me. Speak softly to me. Tell me how much you love me.” He reached out a hand that did not seem bent on violence and possessed himself of her fingers, which he squeezed ever so gently.

“I’ll remind you in ten years, if you haven’t returned to the jungle or been locked up with the other wild beasts at the Tower.”

“I’ll be around. You will regret that rash promise, my cautious Clara. But for the time being, let us just back up a decade and get our marriage settled. We
are
getting married, Clara. You mentioned January as being a good month.”

“I said December.”

“We have less than four hours,” he said, looking at the mantle clock. “This is the thirty-first. We’ll have to do it here. I thought London...”

She began to smile, till she realized he was serious. A contemplative frown had seized his face. “Ben, you’re mad! I’m not ready—we couldn’t possibly—”

“January then. It’s even duller than December, and I know Mama and Maggie are looking forward to being there for the exchange of vows.”

“Next year—”

“Dear girl, if you mean next December, it is you who are mad. I don’t plan to wait another twelve months!”

“A spring wedding would be lovely.”

“Charming, but the spring, you told me, has its own pleasures, and how are we to get on in the dull winter months?”

“What a lack of imagination. There are sleigh rides and skating.”

“And this.” He pulled her roughly into his arms, and kissed her so hard and so long that it seemed a few weeks at least of the winter might slip by with less dullness than feared.

Disengaging herself, Clara began to say in a distracted way, “We could always...” She had some unclear thought of saying they could go at once to London to get married.

“Yes, darling, a dozen other delightful diversions occur to me, too, but we really should be married first, you know.” From the furious manner in which he went on to divert himself, Clara, cautious still, was strongly inclined to agree with him.

With a last burst of conscience, she tried to persuade him to rejoin the Luckers in the gold saloon. He professed admiration for the few embers moldering in the grate, and with an eye on the comfortable armchair, thought it would hold two very nicely, being designed for one. It took the bribe of an uncut glass of claret and considerable struggling to get him into the gold saloon, and even then he went reluctantly.

“Well, my dear, when do you plan to leave?” Lady Lucker asked eagerly as soon as they came in.

“Pushing me out again, Auntie?” Ben asked with a good-natured smile, the savage lulled. “Take care or we won’t ask you to our wedding.”

“Ben! Is it indeed to be a match? I couldn’t be happier. James, do you hear this?” She went to Clara and embraced her.

“Very nice. Very nice indeed,” Sir James said. “Congratulations and all that. Ben, you were at the Roman Museum the other day. Tell me if you saw anything like this.” He held a coin out to him, but Ben could not recall seeing its match elsewhere. He scarcely saw the one held under his nose.

“You have got yourself a very able manager here, Ben,” Lady Lucker said, ignoring her husband entirely. “My own girls could not run a house better. Not half so well. Clara will have your household in order in no time, and not cost you a fortune to do it either. When do you mean to get married?”

Clara had tentatively in mind a short holiday in London, with perhaps a remove to Braemore and a wedding there in a month.

“Next week,” Ben said.

“A small do then,” she nodded. “Very wise. After just being through a large one, I must commend your wisdom. Though you must be sure to send all your relatives notices, Clara. There is no reason you must be diddled out of your gifts, only because you are having a small do.”

“I doubt it can be arranged in a week, Ben,” Clara said.

“It can. We’ll get a licence immediately when we get to London. Mama and Maggie have things well in hand. Ordering plenty of glasses and so on,” he said, with a brief but speaking glance to Clara.

“There is no need to
buy
them, Ben,” his aunt objected at once. “Take what you need from here and return them on your way to Braemore.”

“We won’t be returning to Braemore till the spring. Mama and Maggie will, I expect, but Clara and I have decided to honeymoon in London.”

“Not a bad idea. It will save traveling expenses and having to put up at expensive hotels.”

“Exactly,” Ben agreed with unsteady lips. “And Clara needs to do such a lot of shopping that we will be watching every penny,” he continued unblushing. “Gowns, bonnets, slippers—was that not what you said, Clara?”

Clara said not a word, but cast a look of revulsion on her outspoken groom. Lady Lucker nodded her agreement. “Clara knows just where to buy wisely.” Visions of the Pantheon Bazaar rose in her mind’s eye.

“Mama wants you and Sir James to come to us as soon as you conveniently can,” Ben said.

“We will be there in a day or two,” Lady Lucker promised. “Oh and Clara, there are dozens of things left over from Prissie’s wedding—half of that huge ham and sweets and so on. I shall take a box of them with me.”

“You are very kind, Aunt Charity,” Ben said, “but we really don’t want to have a wedding breakfast of leftovers. For that one occasion, we are going to splurge.”

His aunt looked doubtful at this poor beginning, but placed enough faith in Clara’s good sense that she had no real fear of improvidence on this scale continuing.

“This calls for a celebration,” Sir James said. The racket going forth prevented him from doing justice to his bent and discolored coins. “A glass of champagne, what?”

Lady Lucker prepared to intervene with the mention that Ben preferred claret. But there was champagne left over from the wedding, and she decided to splurge with this last magnanimous gesture.

The toast was drunk, and with no more nonsense, James was led from the room. Lady Lucker dashed off to the parlor where Prissie’s gifts were laid out, to run her eye over the lot for duplicates and determine what she could part with for Clara’s gift. Ben’s silver tea service and the Wedgwood cups were tallied up with Clara’s wineglasses, and the decision taken that Prissie had no possible use for an ugly silver epergne featuring naked nymphs and some strange man with wings on his heels.

“What will your mother say to rushing things forward so?” Clara asked Ben.

“She will say, ‘Hallelujah and amen.’ She has not liked to see me racketing around the countryside, looking for you. It was her idea to stay in London and oversee things. She hasn’t Charity’s knack for cutting a corner, so it will be your lot to see she won’t go buying the food herself, instead of dunning the neighbors for it.”

“A pity I am not acquainted with your neighbors.”