“The rector won’t marry us on Sunday. He has to be out of the area on Monday and won’t be back until late Tuesday. The only other option is to wed over the anvil.” He swallowed. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”
The worry in Eunice’s face disappeared and she smiled. “Yes, it is. Let me get my things, and I’ll be right down.”
Eunice rushed off, and Mary dashed to the wardrobe where Mathers had put her jewel box. Her aunt may have been married before, but some traditions had to be maintained. She drew out an old pearl necklace with a sapphire pendant. Old, blue, and borrowed. Now to find something new.
Caro, Anna, and Phoebe entered one after the other, wearing traveling cloaks and bonnets.
“I take it we’re all going to a wedding,” Caro said.
“Yes.” Mary rolled the necklace up in linen, then placed it in her reticule. “I need something new.”
“New?” Anna’s brows puckered for a moment before clearing. “Oh my. Yes indeed. Will a handkerchief do? I brought several new ones I’d just completed.”
Mary gave her friend a hug. “Perfect. Bring them all. We’ll probably need them.” She donned her hat and pelisse. “Let’s be off.”
When they arrived in the hotel’s yard, the carriages were waiting. No curricles this time. They couldn’t afford to become dirty before the wedding. The ladies took the largest one, and in no time at all they were on their way, and crossing the bridge into Coldstream. The coaches pulled up at the western entrance of an old, gray stone church.
Mary took out the necklace, fastening it around her aunt’s neck. “This is for you for to-day. Old, borrowed, and blue.”
“And this”—Anna handed Eunice a handkerchief of fine white work—“is something new.”
Eunice swallowed and blinked her eyes. “Thank you so very much.”
The carriage opened, and Mr. Doust held out his bare hand. “My lady.”
She removed her gloves, sticking them in her reticule before placing her much smaller hand in his. “Sir.”
One by one, the gentlemen helped their ladies down from the carriage. When it was Mary’s turn, Kit executed a short bow. “Shall we?”
She watched as his fingers closed around her hand, swallowing it. When she looked up, he was smiling. She bit the inside of her cheek. How long would it be before she married? “It’s been a long time since I’ve attended a wedding.”
The corners of his lips quirked up. “In that case you should have your handkerchief ready. It’s my experience ladies express their joy with tears at such events.”
Her brothers would be in a panic at the proposition of a lady crying, even with happiness, yet Kit appeared sanguine. She stepped down to the dirt road. “That doesn’t horrify you?”
“No indeed.” He tucked her hand firmly in the crook of his arm. “Not when they are happy.” He pulled a face. “Now tears of distress are a very different matter. I don’t know a man alive who doesn’t dread them.”
They followed the others through the main door, making their way up the nave to where a sandy-haired gentleman busied himself in front of the sanctuary.
The man straightened as they approached. “Mr. Doust, my lady, welcome.”
“My dear, ladies, gentlemen,” Mr. Doust said, “allow me to introduce Mr. Creelman, who you have probably surmised is the rector.”
Once the remaining introductions were completed, Mr. Creelman asked Doust and Lady Eunice, “Who will be your witnesses?”
Doust glanced at Kit. He nodded. “Lady Mary Tolliver and Mr. Featherton.”
Mary started. She and Eunice hadn’t discussed who’d attend her and her betrothed, but Mary should have expected she would. Still, she’d never acted as a witness and was a little unsure of what to do. Hopefully, the rector would tell her. “I’m happy to.”
“If everyone else will take their seats,” Mr. Creelman said, “we shall begin.”
Although the service was straight out of the Book of Common Prayer, and the newlyweds took communion, the service seemed rather short to Kit. He supposed his marriage to Mary would be much the same. He found himself looking forward to calling her his wife and hoped she’d soon feel the same.
During the wedding dinner at the hotel, he remained by her side, filling her plate from the numerous offerings at the table, and fetching her drinks. She had not exaggerated when she’d told him she was not a picky eater, and it pleased him to see her eat what he’d brought. Once Doust and Lady Eunice retired, the talk turned to Edinburgh.
While they’d been in Coldstream, the messenger, waylaid by one of their footmen, had arrived with Lady Theo’s letter. Huntley handed Caro his penknife, and she slid it under the seal; spreading the single page out, she quickly perused it and grinned. “We are all welcome. She is getting the nursery ready as well. She already has a list of entertainments we might be interested in and will make up another list of suitable gentlemen for Mary.”
Kit forced back a growl of frustration. He did not need Lady Theo finding another man for Mary. Thankfully she’d only blushed and not agreed with the suggestion. Now though, her eyes sparkled with excitement as Caro recited some of the outings and parties to which Lady Theo had accepted invitations on their behalf.
