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Faulkner bowed, to suggest that he had taken in the gravity of the situation.
“In the sight of God,” he said solemnly, “I accuse this man of having an affair with my wife while he was engaged to this woman. An act of infidelity that caused the irretrievable breakdown of my marriage.”
It sounded a little over-rehearsed to Sir Julian, who wasn’t in any doubt who’d penned the script, although he wasn’t sure how William would be able to prove his innocence.
“I have met Mrs. Faulkner on three occasions,” protested William, “and then only in my capacity as a police officer.”
“Can you deny that on one of those occasions, you spent the night with my wife at our home in Monte Carlo, while I was safely out of the way on the other side of the world?”
“We spent the night in the same house,” said William firmly, “but not in the same bed.”
“Are you going to deny in the presence of God my wife joined you in bed that night?”
William didn’t respond, and this time Sir Julian was unable to come to his rescue.
“I’m afraid that’s true,” said a voice from the back of the vestry. Everyone looked around to see who had spoken these words. Christina Faulkner stepped forward. “When William was staying as a guest in my home, after he’d gone to bed, I crept into his room uninvited, and slipped in beside him.”
She couldn’t have had a more attentive audience if she’d been giving an opening-night performance at the Albert Hall.
“No woman likes to be rejected,” she said quietly, “but William did just that, and quite literally showed me the door. I shall not forget his words to my dying day. ‘I’m in love with a remarkable woman,’ he told me, ‘and even the promise of you returning the stolen Rembrandt to the Fitzmolean wouldn’t tempt me to be unfaithful to her.’ If you think that must have been humiliating,” said Christina, “just imagine what I’m going through now in the presence of God and this congregation.” She paused once again before delivering her final riposte. “Two other simple facts may interest you, vicar. I had begun divorce proceedings long before I met Detective Sergeant Warwick, and perhaps more important, we haven’t met since, as I’m sure my husband’s private detective will confirm.”
Beth took William in her arms and kissed him gently on the lips. “It’s nice to know you consider me more valuable than a Rembrandt,” she said. “I can’t think of a better wedding present.”
Everyone except Faulkner burst into warm applause. Arthur, who hadn’t spoken until then, stepped forward, grabbed Faulkner by the arm, and twisted it halfway up his back with all the skill of a former amateur wrestler, and marched him to the back door. He opened it with his free hand and, with the help of a well-polished shoe, kicked him out into the graveyard.
Faulkner stumbled forward, falling on one knee before he recovered his balance. As he walked away he could hear Arthur shouting, “I’ve been arrested for murder once. Don’t give me an excuse to make it twice!” He slammed the door and rejoined the others, to hear the vicar pronouncing, “Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.”
The bride and groom filed back into the body of the church and retook their places on the altar steps to a warm round of applause, revealing the fact that the vicar had forgotten to close the vestry door.
“Where were we before I was so rudely interrupted?” said the vicar, which was greeted with laughter and further applause. “Ah, yes. Will you take this woman to be your wedded wife?”
After William and Beth had exchanged vows, the vicar declared, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” A standing ovation accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Warwick as they proceeded back down the aisle.
The reception gave everyone a chance to air their opinions on Faulkner’s tasteless intervention, while the speeches that followed made no mention of it. When four o’clock struck, Arthur started to grow anxious once again, worried that if Beth took any longer changing into her going-away outfit, Mr. and Mrs. Warwick would miss their flight and would have to spend their first night as husband and wife in the back of a hire car.
He’d told her several times that the journey to Gatwick would take at least an hour, and once again she’d ignored his warnings. But when she reappeared in a navy and red cashmere outfit, complemented by a red silk scarf and small beige handbag, all was forgiven. Arthur tipped the cabbie ten pounds and told him to make sure they didn’t miss their flight.
“Hold on tight, sarge,” said the driver, as they climbed into the backseat. “I may have to break the speed limit.”
“Oh, no, not you, Danny,” said William. “What else can go wrong today?”
They reached the airport forty-six minutes later, and as the newlyweds dashed into the departure lounge, they were gre
eted with an announcement over the tannoy: “This is the final call for flight 019 to Rome. Would all passengers please make their way to gate thirty-one?”
Mr. and Mrs. Warwick were among the last to board the plane, and didn’t relax until it had begun to taxi down the runway. William was squeezing Beth’s hand as they waited to take off, when an announcement came from the flight deck. “This is your captain speaking,” said a friendly voice. “I’m sorry to have to report that our engineer has identified a minor fault in the starboard engine, and we will therefore have to return to the gate where you will be required to disembark and wait until we locate an available aircraft to take you to Rome.”
A loud groan went up in the cabin, followed by a hundred questions, none of which the aircrew were able to answer.
“May I assure you,” continued the captain, “that your safety is our first priority. I hope it won’t be too long before you are able to resume your journey.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said William, as he took Beth’s bag down from the overhead locker, “if Faulkner turned out to be the engineer.” Beth didn’t laugh.
The passengers were escorted off the plane and back into the terminal, where they were offered tea and biscuits in the lounge while they waited for a further announcement. The promise that “It shouldn’t be too long now,” regularly repeated by solicitous staff, became less and less convincing, until finally there was an official announcement from the airline.
“I’m sorry to say that no replacement aircraft is available at this time. All passengers will be offered a seat on the first scheduled flight to Rome in the morning.”
“It looks, Mrs. Warwick, as if we’ll be spending our first night together as man and wife in an airport lounge,” said William, taking Beth in his arms.
