Caleb side-eyed Emmeline, having hoped that he could rely on her solidarity.
‘Is there some scandal!?’ Anne cried shrilly.
‘No, Mother.’
‘That is what they will think! That is what they will say!! You will scandalise the Ton!’ Anne was becoming quite hysterical and her Butler stepped over from the boundary of the room to pour a glass of water for her.
‘I will not, Mother. I do not wish to marry in front of a full congregation. It is not in my proclivity to wed publicly.’
Emmeline nodded slightly, seeming now to understand somewhat, and turned to Anne.
‘Caleb has never been one for demonstrative gestures, Mother. Nor does he value an audience,’ she shrugged sadly.
‘We have the social standing, Mother,’ Caleb continued ‘that it will simply be assumed we are procuring a special license because wecan.’
With that said, Caleb nodded once and stood, to continue his rifling through paperwork at the bureau.
His Mother and sister sat silently as he filtered through birth certificates and paused briefly at his Father’s death certificate. He felt a pang in his chest. The date on the paperwork was still so recent and the pain of his passing remained raw in Caleb. The memory of that night and the news of his horse bolting as it was spooked by a man running across the road. Caleb had tortured himself for years with the questions and alternative endings that could never be. He had never understood why a man ran into the road in front of the horses’ carriage; the horses’ panic caused the whole carriage to pitch and crash sideways, securing his father a head injury there was no recovering from. It was all so unnecessary and unprecedented, even all this time on he still imagined he might be told it was all a mistake and his father was perfectly well and coming home. He closed his eyes momentarily, allowing himself to feel the keenness of it and letting it pass.
Caleb wondered if his mother ever felt this way when she thought of his father’s premature passing and instantly swept the idea away – of course, she did not. She spent their marriage pecking away at him; an irritable, nagging force that always pointed out what was wrong with a situation, that always pulled him up on how to make things more proper. It had been clear during his father’s life that his mother had no fondness for the man and even clearer at the point of his death when she practically celebrated her new status as a widow. For Anne, it merely claimed her good reason to play the victim – her favourite role - and propelled her into a permanent state of being able to place blame at the foot of her grief, for any misdemeanour. Her mourning was a façade that fooled neither Caleb nor Emmeline, who both felt their father’s loss with utter devastation.
Caleb knew what marriage was. He had seen it in his parents’ relationship – or lack thereof. It was a thinly veiled attempt at union so that one might harvest children to continue the family name. It was ticking a box on the form of societal norms so that one might be invited to events in a couple. It was having somebody to blame for all the things that didn’t go right for you. It was a person to shout at if you were feeling bitter. It was a togetherness you spent your life resenting.
Caleb did not want it. Had it been his own choice, he would have remained a bachelor and indulged all his time in studying books and learning – that was his passion. But his father had been keen for grandchildren so that the Montwood family legacy should continue to down through the generations. He had hand-picked the Haworth family with whom Caleb should continue this dynasty and Caleb had a responsibility to see it through.
He had no doubt Lady Hannah might resent his choice to wed her through the special license measures, but since he anticipated a marriage of vexation, it made no difference whether this was the source of her acrimony or some other detail that frustrated her. Truly, for his mother, she would find issues to be bitter about.
As a child, Caleb had watched as his father brought Anne gifts to please her – flowers she would say made her sneeze; chocolate she complained was too sweet for her taste; scarves she claimed made her skin itch. Caleb learned that there was no way to please a woman. He recalled sitting upon the staircase alone when Emmeline was still just a baby and listening to his parents yelling at each other. He had told himself then; that to take a wife was to sign up for a life of animosity.
This was all Caleb expected from his union with Lady Hannah and – in preparing for such – just wanted the thing done, with minimal glorification. Of course, he was unable to disclose these preconceptions to his mother or Lord Vincent. Playing upon his supposed timidity was the only acceptable justification for the special license.
‘People will expect a grand wedding for the Duke and his new Duchess, Caleb…’ Anne prattled on.
Caleb felt a burning of ferocity come across him – this whole scenario wouldn’t be so painful if it hadn’t been for the cynicism of his mother and the grievances of it wouldn’t be so provocative if she would simply accept his word and stop talking.
‘Mother, I do not care what people will expect. I have the status and money to approach the Archbishop for a special license and so I will. Lady Hannah and I will be married in no time at all and I will hopefully never need to hear the wordsLady Lucinda Fairfaxfrom you again! Good day!’
With that, Caleb grabbed up the required documentation and stormed out of the drawing room.
***
The two men chinked their crystal glasses together over the low table-top and Caleb welcomed the burn of whiskey as it flowed down his throat.
‘Congratulations, old boy!’ Albert sang out heartily. ‘In truth, I did not expect you would take a wife.’
Caleb frowned at his old friend. ‘I told you of my father’s wishes, did I not?’
‘Certainly, you did. It is a testament to your relationship with him that you are seeing it through to the letter. However, I wondered if that particular clause in his preferences might be – shall we say –overlookedby you?’
‘I fully respect my father’s request. He was a wise man who knew the best steps for me. I have faith in his plan,’ Caleb concluded.
‘Lady Hannah Haworth is beautiful and you are a lucky man!’ Albert raised his glass to meet Caleb’s again, but Caleb had sat back in his creaky, shiny, leather armchair and was running one broad hand over his face, so he didn’t see.
‘I say, what’s up, chap?’ Albert placed his glass back on the table.
Caleb took in a deep breath, inhaling the rich dusky smoke of a nearby cigar, and looked around the decadent gentleman’s club; affluent in highly polished, dark cherry wood furnishings; taking in the light crackle of the open fire that warmed them. He took another sip of whiskey as he contemplated how to answer his friend.
‘You are correct, it would be my preference not to marry,’ Caleb confirmed, lowering his voice so that he should not disparage Lady Hannah should anybody hear his confession.
