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“We’ll wait just a moment, then,” Michael said. “The chapel is just off the back of the house.”
Standing in the foyer, they waited expectantly, listening for the sound of the second carriage.
“I’m afraid we’ve all missed dinner,” Michael noted, more quietly. “The cook is preparing a late supper. Imagining that everyone would be tired after the ceremony, the staff will bring trays to everyone’s rooms.”
“How thoughtful of the housekeeper.” Martha smiled.
Lydia struggled to think of anything to say, her nerves wound up in a knot inside of her. However, just a few short minutes later, the second carriage arrived, with Marcia, Lucretia, and Johanna stumbling out in a frenzy. Chattering among themselves, Lydia caught only snippets of hissed instructions and reproaches, until they stepped into the foyer.
“I think everyone is here, then,” Michael said calmly. Smiling down at Lydia again, he asked, “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I will ever be,” she whispered bashfully.
Michael led the way, holding Lydia’s hand as she walked beside him. Her mother and sisters followed behind as they headed to the chapel. As they all stepped in, Lydia noticed Joseph standing with the curate. Lionel, Ranora, and Kitty sat in the front row on one side, while Francis sat on the other. They all stood as their entourage entered, a quiet coming over the entire assembly as Michael and Lydia walked down the aisle, hand in hand.
In the dark chapel, lit only with candlelight, a serene calm washed over Lydia. The poor curate appeared to have been dragged from the ball, still in his evening finery, looking very much unlike a clergyman. She noted the tired faces of their family, worn from the long night of stress.
Just behind the altar, the tall, clear windows showed the evening stars, reminding Lydia how late the night had gotten. She never thought her wedding would take place in the middle of the night, in a desperate rush. However, she had never been able to imagine marrying anyone, at all. Stopping before the curate and facing Michael, she knew that he was the only one that she could have imagined marrying. Grasping his hands, she finally felt relief wash through her, that her dream was going to become a reality.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony…” the curate began.
Clutching Michael’s hands, she tried to steady her breath, looking up at him. He grinned down at her, but noticing his breath coming quickly as well, she took heart that he was nervous too.
“…First, it was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of His Holy name…”
When the curate spoke of children, her heart dropped. She remembered the line from the Book of Common Prayer, read over and over again at home, and from attending services growing up. Michael had mentioned that they would discuss the possibility of children. She could not say how they would avoid it, unless they did not lay together as man and wife.
“…Secondly, It was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body…”
Michael had the audacity to smirk as the curate mentioned the line of fornication, causing her to blush deeply. She hoped desperately that in the dim light, their family did not take notice. She lost track of the words the curate was speaking, until he turned to Michael.
“Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy state of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” Michael pledged, earnestly looking to the curate.
The curate turned to Lydia, asking her the same question, to which she nodded eagerly, saying, “I will.”
The ceremony rushed for her then, such that she could not keep up with the words, even when she was reciting their vows. However, once Michael pulled a ring from his pocket to slip it over her finger, she could hardly recognize her own hand under his. She had lost track of what the curate was saying that when he closed his book, she started.
“Now, I charge you both, in the morning, to attend service at your own parish and take Communion. I am tired and the hour is late.”
She laughed, turning to Michael, shocked at the curate’s abrupt ending. Michael offered her a lop-sided grin.
“I guess we are man and wife,” he noted.
“I guess we are,” she laughed and turned to the pews and their families.
* * *
When Lydia arrived at his London home, Michael tried to keep a smile on his face. He was thoroughly looking forward to their ceremony, but he wanted to protect her from the heated argument he and Joseph had just moments before she arrived.
After telling his family about the upcoming wedding, he had sent them off with their respective tasks. Lionel offered to find the rings. Ranora suggested that she arrange their supper that night, even breakfast the next morning. Even Kitty offered to find flowers, from a local vendor she knew of. Michael sent Francis to discuss accommodations with the housekeeper.
However, as soon as they had gone, Joseph had shut the door to the room, whirling against him.
“Are you out of your mind?” Joseph hissed. “I have tried over the years to keep you out of trouble. But this? This is unbelievable!”
“I’m not sure I understand your concern,” Michael said. “I told you before, I care for her, love her even. If that is how I feel, why should you not want me to marry her?”
