Even when she reached his side, Zachary did not turn his head towards her. Her eyes rested for a moment on his strong-boned profile and then she, too, gave Lionel Daly her full attention.
He looked at her questioningly for a moment and then, seeing the happiness shining in her eyes, he said solemnly:
‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in Holy Matrimony …’
Zachary wondered if he would be able to have the marriage annulled later, on the grounds that he was certifiably insane at the time it took place.
‘… which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church …’
Always, all his life, he had been strong-willed and impulsive, living life exactly as he wanted, never conforming to society’s many unwritten and boring rules. He had never before, however, acted quite so rashly as he was now doing.
‘… which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought in Cana of Galilee …’
The first time marriage had even fleetingly crossed his mind had been when he had sat opposite Serena Hollis in the Residency dining-room. Then he had envisaged a marriage in which he continued his lone travelling and his wife waited tranquilly for his return; a marriage in which the adventurous life-style he so enjoyed would continue unchanged, the only difference the domestic comfort awaiting him whenever he returned to England in order to make plans for yet another trek, to yet another country.
‘… and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men; and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly or wantonly …’
Lionel Daly’s eyes were fixed firmly on Zachary.
‘… to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained …’
Zachary’s eyes held Lionel Daly’s with difficulty. It was a long time since he had listened to the words of the Marriage Service. There was certainly no mention of marriage being ordained in order to save a Chinese pony from death or a young girl from being boarded in a convent.
‘I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it …’
It seemed to the bride and groom and to the bride’s uncle, that Lionel Daly waited far longer for a reply than was politely necessary.
Sir Arthur coughed impatiently. The matron-of-honour gave her husband a steely stare.
Bowing to the inevitable, Lionel Daly proceeded with the service. Giving Zachary his full attention he said gravely,
‘Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?’
This time it was the groom’s silence which caused Sir Arthur’s heart to palpitate unpleasantly.
Zachary’s eyes held Lionel Daly’s. He was aware of Gianetta at his side and of the faint perfume emanating from her hair and skin. He could still bring a halt to the proceedings; he could still walk from the mission a bachelor. He took a deep breath. Out of the corner of his eye he was aware that the hands holding the posy of roses and jasmine and honeysuckle were trembling ever so slightly.
‘I will,’ he said in dark, rich tones, his voice as steady as the Rock of Gibralter.
From the first pew on the left-hand side of the chapel there came an unmannerly sigh of relief.
‘And wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded husband?’ Lionel Daly said gently to Gianetta. ‘To live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?’
‘I will,’ Gianetta said, her voice low, husky and absolutely unhesitating.
‘Will you now take the bride by the right hand, with your right hand,’ Lionel Daly said to Zachary.
For the first time since Gianetta had entered the chapel, Zachary turned and looked directly at her.
Shock-waves sliced through her. He was so devastatingly handsome that she couldn’t imagine how she had ever thought him tedious. As he took her hand in his she gave him a smile so dazzling that Lionel Daly almost forgot where he had got to in the service. Previous brides whose marriages he had conducted had kept their eyes demurely lowered throughout the service, and had certainly not bestowed such frank and sunny smiles upon their husbands-to-be.
The husband-to-be now in front of him was not remotely disconcerted by his bride’s blatant and vibrant happiness. His white teeth flashed as he shot her a sudden, answering smile.
‘Will you please repeat after me,’ Lionel Daly said to him, wondering how he could ever have believed that Zachary and Gianetta were not hopelessly in love, ‘I, Zachary Cartwright, take thee, Gianetta Hollis, to my wedded wife,’
Zachary’s voice sent little tingles down Elizabeth Daly’s spine as he made the responses. The children sat quiet as mice, enraptured by the sight of a European lady in a Chinese wedding-dress. Ben shifted restlessly, anxious to be out on the open road instead of standing at the doorway of a strange building, flowers garlanded annoyingly around his neck.
‘To have and to hold from this day forward,’ Zachary repeated after Lionel Daly, ‘for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer.’
His eyes held Gianetta’s. Neither of them was smiling any longer. Neither of them was aware of the presence of the children, or of Elizabeth, or of Jung-shou and Ben.
‘In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.’
He meant every word. Whatever her reason for marrying him, whatever his reason for marrying her, he wanted nothing more than to take care of her for the rest of his life.
‘Now loosen hands,’ Lionel Daly said quietly, ‘and Gianetta, please now take hold of Zachary’s right hand, with your right hand and repeat after me, I, Gianetta Hollis, take thee, Zachary Cartwright, to be my wedded husband …’
She marvelled at how inwardly calm she felt; how sure she felt that what she was doing was utterly right.
‘… to have and to hold from this day forward,’ she repeated after Lionel Daly, ‘for better for worse, for richer for poorer …’
Sir Arthur took his gold pocket-watch from his waistcoat pocket and looked at it impatiently, anxious to be off to Chung King:
‘… in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.’
Sir Arthur replaced his watch in his pocket with satisfaction. It was all over now, save for the groom putting the ring on the bride’s wedding finger.
‘The ring,’ Lionel Daly was saying to Zachary. ‘Please place it on the fourth finger of the bride’s left hand and say after me …’
Zachary frowned slightly. ‘There isn’t a ring. It wasn’t mentioned, and I doubt if I could have bought one in Peng even if it had been.’
Four pairs of eyes stared at him, appalled.
‘I can’t continue the service without a ring, or without something symbolic of a ring,’ Lionel Daly said with quiet firmness.
Sir Arthur sprang to his feet. ‘Of course you can!’ he contradicted furiously. ‘The vows have been exchanged, all that remains is for you to pronounce them man and wife.’
‘Not without a wedding-ring.’
‘What about a curtain-ring?’ Elizab
eth was asking. ‘Will a curtain-ring do?’
Zachary looked away from Lionel Daly and towards Gianetta. In the cool shade of the chapel, her eyes were the colour of smoked quartz. ‘There’s no need to search for a curtain-ring,’ he said, pulling his signet ring off his left-hand little finger.
Elizabeth Daly and Sir Arthur visibly relaxed. Gianetta’s generous mouth curved into a deep smile. She had known that Zachary would not allow their wedding to be spoilt by an unseemly search for a curtain-ring.
‘Place the ring on the fourth finger of the bride’s left hand,’ Lionel Daly again instructed, ‘and say after me. “With this ring I thee wed”.’
Zachary’s fingers were warm and dry as he slid the ring on to her finger, holding it there as he said steadily, ‘With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.’
Elizabeth Daly gave a deep, tremulous sigh. In the porch, Jung-shou wiped tears from her eyes. Lionel Daly smiled benevolently at them both and then said to his small congregation,
‘Forasmuch as Gianetta and Zachary have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth to each other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.’
Sir Arthur stepped out of his pew, anxious to make a speedy get-away, but was foiled by the pianist launching into the opening notes of ‘The Voice that Breathed O’er Eden.’ He ground his teeth together, obliged to remain respectfully immobile as the bride and groom and small congregation began to sing. The children’s voices were discordant but enthusiastic, the bride’s voice a lovely, lilting contralto, the groom’s voice a surprisingly pleasing baritone.
Jung-shou’s sister had no intention of cutting her performance short. Sir Arthur had to endure all eight verses before, to the stirring strains of ‘Jerusalem’, the newly married couple walked arm in arm out of the church.
‘Congratulations, and now I must be on my way,’ he said the instant they were over the porch threshold. ‘I shall tell your aunt that she has absolutely nothing to worry about where you are concerned, Gianetta. As for you, Mr Cartwright. I’m obliged to you for acting honourably towards my niece. I would appreciate it if, on your eventual return to London, no mention was made of the regrettable circumstances necessitating your marriage. No doubt you will again be my guest at the Residency when you pass through Chung King on your eventual homeward journey. Until then, good-bye.’
He shook Zachary’s hand briskly, gave Gianetta a perfunctorary kiss on the cheek, and made his goodbyes to the Dalys.
No-one made the slightest effort to delay him. His bags had already been carried out to the waiting junk. Without further ado, Sir Arthur marched off in the direction of the river, the set of his shoulders proclaiming the personal satisfaction he felt at having so adroitly brought a difficult situation to an acceptable conclusion.
‘Congratulations!’ Elizabeth Daly said to them, beaming radiantly. ‘It was a wonderful wedding service, quite beautiful despite the hitch over the ring. Cook has prepared a wedding breakfast and I’ve asked her to serve it on the verandah. We don’t have any champagne for the toasts, unfortunately, but we do have fresh orange juice.’
Zachary was accepting Lionel Daly’s congratulations, and Gianetta was overcome by a sudden flash of shyness. The tall, broad-shouldered figure shaking Lionel Daly’s hand was her husband. They were married. It seemed too incredible to be true. She wondered what Serena would say when she heard of their marriage; she wondered what Charles would say.
As it was obviously inappropriate to toss her bouquet in Elizabeth’s direction, she threw it over the heads of the children clustering around her. There were squeals of delight as a sea of hands vied for possession of it. The victor was a little girl of about six years old. Gianetta blew her a kiss, and Lionel Daly and Zachary finished their short conversation.
‘We mustn’t linger too long over our wedding breakfast,’ Zachary said to her as the Daly’s began to lead the way back to the mission. ‘Not if we want to camp tonight out of sight and sound of Peng.’
Despite all her determination not to be coy and missish, her cheeks flushed rosily. She had wanted a wedding night by the banks of the Kialing, and now she was to have one. With sudden fervour she wished that her mother were still alive in order that she could talk to her, woman to woman. Elizabeth Daly was kindness itself but they hadn’t known each other long enough to be able to hold such a conversation without embarrassment.
‘I think we should hold hands,’ Zachary said to her, undisguised amusement in his voice. ‘I think our wedding guests expect it.’
Her hand felt very small and fragile in his. More than anything else in the world she wanted to be able to smile at him and meet his eyes as directly and joyfully as she had done in church, but she couldn’t. She was too acutely conscious of the night that lay ahead.
A circular table had been set out on the verandah and covered with a white lace tablecloth. There were plates of prettily arranged, very European sandwiches. A Victoria spongecake held pride of place as a wedding-cake, and there were glass jugs of orange-juice and chilled China tea.
With her hand still securely in Zachary’s, Gianetta mounted the short flight of steps. As she sat down, Zachary on her right hand side and Lionel Daly on her left, she could see the distant figure of her uncle as he stepped into a punt. In the middle of the river, on board the waiting junk, a dog was barking, wagging its tail vigorously,
A smile quirked the corners of Gianetta’s mouth. Her uncle would certainly not relish the dog’s company on the long sail to Chung King. She thought of how easily she might have been in the punt with him, and shuddered with relief that she was not.
Zachary flashed her an enquiring look and for the first time since he had mentioned the night to come, her eyes met his without constraint.
‘I was just thinking how glad I am that I am not aboard the punt,’ she said with disarming frankness.
Zachary grinned. She was so entertainingly honest about her feelings that he was finding it increasingly difficult to believe that she was a deceiver of Machiavellian proportions. And if she was not, if every word she had ever told him had been the truth, then there was no reason at all why their bizarrely contracted marriage should not be a happy and glorious one.
‘A toast,’ Lionel Daly said, rising to his feet, a glass of orange-juice in his hand. ‘To Gianetta and Zachary. May they have a lifetime of happiness ahead of them.’
Elizabeth and Jung-shou rose to their feet, raising their glasses, echoing his sentiments.
When Elizabeth sat down she said to Zachary, a deep blush flushing her cheeks, ‘If you would like to stay here for the night or even for several nights, arrangements can easily be made. There is a double bungalow and …’
‘No,’ Zachary said gently, aware of her embarrassment. ‘That is a very kind offer, but Gianetta and I are in agreement that we will spend tonight together by the banks of the Kialing.’
Instead of being relieved of her embarrassment, Elizabeth turned even pinker. She thought it the most romantic notion she had ever heard of, worthy of a Byron or a Shelley.
‘And we must depart very soon,’ Zachary added, reaching for another mouth-sized sandwich.
Out on the river the punt had returned to shore and the junk’s large, square, umber-brown sail had been hoisted. The dog was in the stern, its tail still wagging vigorously; Sir Arthur’s white-suited, pith-hatted figure was seated near the prow, as far removed from the dog as he could get.
As the junk began to glide away down the centre of the river, Sir Arthur made no attempt to wave a last goodbye. His face was turned southwards towards Chung King, and he did not look towards the mission.
The seated figures
on the verandah watched the junk’s departure, each keeping their thoughts to themselves. Gianetta was thinking of all the wonderful places she would see and of all the beautiful flowers she would find, before she would meet with her uncle again. Zachary was resolving that he would never meet with Sir Arthur again and that he would strategically bypass Chung King when he and Gianetta made their return journey home. Elizabeth was thinking that she had never met a more disagreeable man than the Consul and was fervently hoping that he would never again demand hospitality of her. Her husband was resolving to include the Consul in his future prayers in the hope that the Lord would touch Sir Arthur’s heart and make him a more likeable human being.
‘We must be going,’ Zachary said at last, rising to his feet, ‘but we’ll meet again, I hope.’
The Dalys and Gianetta rose from the table. ‘I very much hope so,’ Lionel Daly said sincerely, clasping him by the hand. ‘Will you return this way from Kansu?’
‘Most definitely.’
‘Then we can look forward to you staying with us for a few days,’ Lionel Daly said with satisfaction.
‘I gave orders before the wedding for an extra saddle-bag to be loaded on my horse and for Ben to be saddled in readiness. Could you send someone to tell the stable-boy that we’re ready for them to be brought round to us?’
Lionel Daly nodded and Gianetta said a trifle regretfully, ‘I shall have to change out of my dress and into my riding clothes.’
‘Your dress is silk,’ Elizabeth Daly said reassuringly. ‘It won’t spoil if you roll it up and squeeze it into your saddle-bag.’
The sun was no longer high overhead but moving quite rapidly westward. On the Kialing the umber-brown sail of the junk could no longer be seen.
‘If you will excuse me, I’ll go and change now,’ Gianetta said to the Dalys, knowing that there was no time to be lost if she and Zachary were to be on the far side of Peng before nightfall.
Moonflower Madness Page 19