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“Not for long.”
“That’s not what she says.”
“Don’t worry. Half the Met police force were there to keep an eye on him. Apart from a few unrepeatable jokes, and some dreadfully out-of-tune singing, he was still sober when I drove him home. Do you know his nickname?” he asked, as they turned into the High Street, and the ancient parish church of St. Anthony’s came into view.
“Choirboy,” she said, but she didn’t tell her father her private name for William.
She and William had attended a couple of rehearsals during the week, and the parish priest, the Reverend Martin Teasdale, such a venerable old gentleman, had taken them slowly through the service, placing great emphasis on the importance of the marriage vows made in the presence of the Almighty. He ended by warning them that something would go wrong on the day, it always does.
When the Rolls drew up outside the church, Arthur checked his watch once again. They were seven minutes late, and he suspected that William would be getting quite nervous. But he knew his anxieties would be dissipated the moment a peal of joyous bells rang out and he saw his bride coming up the aisle.
Arthur stepped out of the car and held open the back door to allow his daughter to join him. The maid of honor rushed forward to straighten Beth’s train, then nodded to the bridesmaids, who quickly fell in line. Beth linked her arm in her father’s, and they entered the church to the sound of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.”
The congregation rose as one, as Beth made her way slowly up the aisle. On her left were friends from her schooldays and Durham University, sitting among a large contingent from the Fitzmolean.
When she glanced to her right, she saw that the pews were filled with what looked like a police convention or a visiting rugby team, interspersed with William’s friends from his schooldays and King’s College London. She smiled when she spotted Gino, reminding her of their first date.
As she continued up the aisle, Beth saw Jack and Josephine Hawksby, Grace and Clare, who were holding hands, Jackie Roycroft, Paul Adaja, and Tim Knox, who gave her a bow. And then she saw William standing on the top altar step, looking so handsome in his long tailcoat, white shirt, and silver tie, with a pink carnation in his buttonhole. He gave her that same nervous smile she’d first noticed when he’d come to the Fitzmolean to hear a lecture that should have been given by the museum’s director. If Tim hadn’t fallen ill, Beth wouldn’t have been asked to step in at the last moment, and they might never have met. Beth hadn’t admitted to anyone, not even William, that it had been hard enough having to deliver a lecture in public for the first time, and it hadn’t helped that an extremely handsome young man wasn’t always looking at the paintings.
When they reached the altar steps, Arthur Rainsford released his unmarried daughter for the last time, took a step back, and joined his wife in the front pew.
Beth climbed the steps to join William, who was staring at her as if he couldn’t believe he’d got so lucky.
“Can’t wait to remove the seventh veil,” he whispered.
“Behave yourself, Caveman,” she replied, glad he couldn’t see her blushing.
When the last chord had been struck, and the organ fell silent, the vicar began by welcoming the bride and groom. He then
looked down at the packed congregation and declared, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation…”
Beth knew the marriage ceremony almost by heart, like a young actress waiting for the curtain to rise so she could give the most important performance of her life. So when the vicar intoned, “Therefore if any man—” Why not any woman, she had thought during the rehearsal—“can show just cause why these two may not be lawfully joined together, let him speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”
The vicar had told them during the rehearsal that he would, as tradition demanded, pause for a moment before saying to William, “Will you take this woman to be thy lawful wedded wife.” He paused, and a voice rang out, “I can show just cause!”
The congregation were momentarily stunned, and every head turned to search for the source of the lone voice. A man Beth had only ever met once before stepped out into the aisle and began striding purposefully toward her soon-to-be husband. When he reached the altar steps, he said, “This man,” pointing at William, “is having an affair with my wife, and it has caused the breakdown of our marriage. He has no intention of being faithful to this woman, and I can prove it.”
A shocked babble of voices turned into a chorus as Beth burst into tears. William took a stride toward Faulkner, and it took his best man and two of the ushers to keep them apart.
In over forty years as a minister the Reverend Martin Teasdale had never experienced an intervention during the marriage service. He tried desperately to recall what he was meant to do in the circumstances. He could hardly phone the bishop.
It was Sir Julian who came to his rescue. “Perhaps the two families, along with Mr. Faulkner, should accompany you to the vestry so this can be sorted out,” he whispered from the front pew.
“Would the two families and the gentleman concerned, please join me in the vestry,” the minister said, “in the hope that this matter can be resolved?”
William and Beth reluctantly left the altar steps and followed the vicar into the vestry. Once the parents of the bride and groom had joined them, they waited in silence for William’s accuser to appear. Faulkner took his time before he entered the room.
“What is your name, sir?” asked the vicar.
“Miles Faulkner,” he announced, with the same confident air he’d recently displayed in the witness box.
“A man who is currently serving a four-year suspended sentence for fraud,” said Sir Julian. “My son was the arresting officer. This is clearly nothing more than a vexatious man seeking revenge.”
“Is it true you have been convicted of fraud, Mr. Faulkner?” asked the minister.
“It is,” replied Faulkner. “But I have something to say that was not revealed during the trial, and will prove Sir Julian’s assertion that I am motivated by revenge is nothing more than an attempt to silence me, whereas in fact I am simply carrying out my Christian duty.”
Everyone began talking at once, except the minister who, when the torrent of accusations and counter-accusations had subsided, said simply, “We will hear what you have to say, Mr. Faulkner. This may not be a court of law, but we are in the presence of a far higher authority, who will pass the final judgment.”
