The Baron & the Clockmaker's Daughter

by Suzy Stewart Dubot

  Chapter 14

  There were three days left until the marriage.

  All the banns had been called and no one had raised any objection, not that he’d imagined that anyone would. Quentin was almost holding his breath because he couldn’t believe his good fortune. In the space of a few months, everything had been transformed, thanks to Faith.

  He looked down at the carpet in the library from behind his desk. He wasn’t really seeing it now in the light of day but rather in the moonlight. He was re-living that first time that he had put his mouth on hers, his drunken mouth that might not have dared otherwise.

  He sighed.

  He’d wanted her then, as he’d wanted no other woman. That had not changed. He wondered if the day would come when he could work without his thoughts straying to her? Men weren’t supposed to be emotionally vulnerable, but he supposed that it really meant that they weren’t supposed to show that they were.

  His stomach dropped as it did each time he thought about how his life might have been without Faith. Empty. He drew his hand down his face, bringing himself reluctantly back to the moment and the papers in front of him.

  The ‘modist’ had come to Marshalswick for the second and final fitting for the wedding dress and two other dresses. They had been left with the promise that the other dresses would appear within the week. Christina Pierce was quietly thanking her lucky stars that she had found such an interesting position.

  She was not only working for an unassuming young woman, whom she liked, but had arrived at the start of a whole new regime. She would not have to struggle to make a place for herself, and brand new clothes had begun to fill the wardrobe. What more could one ask for?

  The jewel in the crown was, of course, Whittle. They had discovered that in years gone by, they had moved within the same circles without having ever met. They had known the same people and knew the same scandals. She did not gossip, but Whittle had begun his ‘memoirs’ and had hinted that there was every chance that she would be able to collaborate with him. She had never imagined that in mid-life things could get better.

  Quentin’s purchases had been delivered and, as he’d instructed, Faith was not aware of their arrival. Whittle had already prepared Quentin’s clothes for the day. A carriage had been organised to pick up Florence and Nessie on the Friday. That would avoid any panic as it would leave ample time for them to arrive and to settle in. Ciaran and Lydia had their own transport so would come to the wedding breakfast on the same morning. The shop would be shut exceptionally on the Saturday and they would spend the night there before leaving on the Sunday afternoon. All that remained unfinished were the preparations for the wedding breakfast itself.

  The wedding was to be simple. Normally, there would be only those people present who needed to officiate and witness it; but Florence had requested that they attended too, as Faith was their only family. They would like to sign as witnesses. Faith and Quentin were very happy to have them there with them on that special day. Jasper was to stand as Quentin’s best man but there had never been any question that Irene be there. She wouldn’t be.

  It seemed that Eloïse was still keeping well and was planning on coming with her family. Her mother had been included in the invitation as soon as they knew she was in attendance at Farland. They could hardly exclude her and leave her on her own when she was such an accommodating person.

  Christopher and Helen were so excited that Mrs. Welby had a hard time keeping them busy and out from under everyone’s feet. All the staff were walking around with idiotic smiles on their faces.

  Anyone coming from outside of the district, unaware of the goings on in Marshalswick, would think they had stumbled into an asylum for the mildly mad. It was certain that nothing would ever be quite the same again. Jasper and Irene’s announcement had been the icing on the cake.

  If Faith and Quentin hadn’t already been seated at the time, it is certain that at least one of them would have collapsed onto the nearest chair, and it wouldn’t have been Faith. Quentin had known Jasper since they were adolescents and it was beyond his ability to assimilate the fact that his friend Jasper had fallen for Irene.

  JASPER….

  IRENE!

  He’d finally succumbed to a woman’s charms.

  Faith had been more affected by the knowledge that Irene and Jasper would be leaving without the children. It was an indication that Irene had no intention of reclaiming them. Thinking about it, Faith thought it might even be better that Irene make an appearance occasionally in their lives rather than not at all. As they grew older, their dealings with their mother might improve and she hoped for their sakes that they would, but in the interim, she and Quentin would try to compensate.

  Friday was another busy, busy day as Aunt Florence and Nessie arrived in time for lunch. They were shown to one room as they had already insisted that they wanted to share. What was the fun of all this animation if there was no one to discuss it with at the end of the day?

  They were both impressed by the size of the rooms and the service that was lavished upon them by the servants. There were moments when they felt a little intimidated, but they bolstered each other up, and soon they really did begin to enjoy themselves.

  Mrs. Welby was particularly grateful that the children were distracted by the two old ladies, whom they’d already met. The children insisted so eagerly on taking them out and about the property, that neither Florence nor Nessie felt they could refuse their hospitality. Who could have imagined that one day they would be attending a noble wedding and residing in a mansion? Would wonders never cease?

  It was a little reluctantly that Faith asked Quentin to allow her to sleep on her own the night before their marriage. She watched his face carefully, alert to any sign of contrariety it might show but was reassured to see him grin. He understood the ritual.

  The more time they spent together found him easing away from the solid hold he would have liked to have had on her at the beginning of their relationship. His possessiveness had never equalled that of her father’s for her mother. Her father’s had stemmed from selfishness while Quentin’s had come from his insecurity. He was gradually being transformed as his life filled and took shape and he realised that he was wanted and needed.

  “Other people like the feeling of anticipation too, Faith. This is the first time I’ve been on the brink of something so extraordinary that I almost want to postpone the marriage for a couple of days to draw out the excitement,” he teased.

  She took his biceps in her hands and shook him like a pillow.

  “Don’t you dare tease me, Quentin Wolfe, if you know what’s good for you.”

  She then hugged him and he returned her embrace.

  “I’ll get Whittle to move my things to the bedroom next to his. Are you sure, though? It will be the last time we can have a bit of illicit carnal knowledge, and it means mussing up an extra bedroom for just one night,” he grinned without expecting an answer.

  “Quentin, you are quite incorrigible,” she retaliated.

  November isn’t the best month of the year in the British Isles. What does it have to boast about? Days are deprived of light. Trees have abandoned their leaves. The weather tends to be cold and wet with the damp penetrating to the bones.

  The Guy Fawkes ‘celebration’ on the fifth of November is in fact celebrating the failure of a plot by Roman Catholics to blow up Parliament, a dubious reason to celebrate when one considers the havoc that Parliament has wreaked over the centuries. However, it would soon be the proud month to host Quentin and Faith’s wedding day. That one celebration would redeem it.

  The day was light by eight o’clock, but the household activities had been under way for some hours. There was much to do for the wedding breakfast now that the day had arrived. Fires were lit in the rooms to be used and flowers from the green house were to be distributed. Stokes had begun the dining room preparations while the kitchen was a-hum with the making of the courses for the meal. The wonderful odour of
fresh bread pervaded the house. Millie was at her best when presented with a challenge.

  Faith had begun her day at seven with a hot chocolate in her room followed by a rose-scented bath. Christina was all smiles and soothing words which buoyed up the mistress, who suddenly found she wasn’t as self-assured as she was normally. A hundred things that might go wrong in the day had invaded her thoughts, only to be swept away by the all-knowing, reassuring lady’s maid.

  The reflection in the mirror showed a woman whom she hardly recognised with hair that usually sat in a pinned pile on her head now held there with tiny plaits. Fine, yellow satin ribbon had been taken up in the twists of her hair, adding softness to the severity that gave her a sophisticated air. Christina helped Faith to slip into her wedding dress, sighing as she fastened the tiny buttons. How she would have loved to have had such a dress for her wedding, but a coachman’s daughter was only permitted her imagination. Today it was enough that she dressed Faith. Her wedding slippers and the doubled silk shawl finished the picture.

  Christina thought she looked like a princess but told her mistress that she looked lovely. Faith wouldn’t have believed her otherwise.

  It had been proposed and accepted by Faith that her aunt and Nessie would travel in the coach with her to the church. She hadn’t realised how nervous this marriage would make her. She hadn’t slept well, which had surprised her, because she’d had all the bed to herself, but it was her mind that was retracing every little step that had led up to this moment.

  She loved Quentin. She did.

  There was, nevertheless, that little doubt about his possessiveness and jealousy that had reared up again when she thought about the father that most brides had to give them away. Quentin wasn’t like her father, was he? She’d never heard her father laugh. Quentin laughed. She would be binding herself to Quentin for life and relinquishing all her rights, but she trusted him to treat her as his partner and not his possession. So why was her mind doing this to her now? Did all brides have second thoughts? It was a question that would remain unanswered.

  And then she tried to imagine life without him.

  Impossible.

  They had melded and each held an essential understanding of the other within him. They would no longer be complete without each other. The thought was enough to eliminate any hesitation.

  She took up the charming little posy that was waiting for her. The gardener, Humphries, had picked little yellow rosebuds and tied them with green ribbon to compliment her dress. She was very glad to have something to occupy her hands, as she didn’t wish to fidget or worry her shawl with her nervousness.

  The groom gave her a hand to help climb into the carriage after her aunt and Nessie, who sat beaming at her all the way to the little parish church.

  “You are a very lucky girl, Faith. I do believe that you and Mr. Wolfe are well suited,” her aunt said.

  Nessie nodded her head in agreement. Once they’d entered the church, both women gave Faith a kiss before leaving her in the vestibule.

  It was only a short distance to the altar and the men standing there were watching her. The vicar was a pleasant man in his thirties. His short stature made him look a little plump but he carried it well by holding himself straight. Jasper was as handsome as ever, although Faith hardly noticed him as her eyes were fixed on Quentin.

  How had she ever doubted?

  He was the figure that dominated the scene by his height, his elegance and his beautiful, intense face. His eyes had not veered from her since her arrival. They took in every graceful line as she came towards them. He felt a breathlessness as his emotions rose to his throat and tightened it for the briefest instant. Jasper whispered something pleasant that broke its hold and he was able to smile. She felt her eyes mist with happiness as she approached the altar, and his smile encouraged her. It was as if they were the only two present.

  The marriage rites were a haze and were over before she realised that they had both responded as was expected of them. The papers were signed and witnessed. Felicitations were given by everyone and Jasper seemed to enjoy thumping Quentin on the back.

  She looked down incredulously at the ring that now circled her finger. Quentin took her hand and kissed the back of it on the ring.

  “Mrs. Wolfe, are you ready to begin the day with your husband?” he asked looking into her eyes.

  She was unable to resist. She threw her arms around his neck to pull herself up onto her toes to kiss his wide mouth. His arms went around her waist instinctively. It was the first, and would probably be the only time in her life when she would publicly kiss him on the mouth.

  “Quentin, my love.” she whispered to him before letting go. He grabbed a hand and they left the church followed by the others. The carriage was waiting and they all squeezed into it for the short ride home. Quentin had hugged Faith to him and she could tell that his calm had only been superficial.

  She wished that they might disappear somewhere together but unfortunately, they would have to wait. Their guests had arrived and were all there to welcome the bride and groom; behind them stood all the staff. It was an occasion that wouldn’t be forgotten in a long time.

  Christopher and Helen ran to meet them as they left the carriage and then tried to monopolise their attention by both talking at once. Helen had seized Faith’s hand and Christopher was walking along with Quentin, copying him by holding his hands together behind his back.

  The day may have been a little overcast but no one noticed, because they were all carried away by the wonderful event and the joy that it generated.