by Bram Stoker
Then the storm of comment broke, all the women speaking at once and in high voices suitable to a momentous occasion:
“What, what?” said Mrs. Ogilvie. “Married to my daughter! Colonel Ogilvie, how is it that I was not informed of this coming event?”
“Faith, my dear I don’t know” he answered “I never knew it — and — and I believe they didn’t know it themselves... till the moment before it was done.” He added the last part of the sentence in deference to the Sheriffs direction as to ‘intention.’ Fortunately the Sheriff had not heard his remark.
“Do explain yourself, Lucius. I am all anxiety.”
“My dear, yesterday Joy made an irregular marriage with Lord Athlyne!”
“Good God!” The exclamation gave an indication of the social value of “irregular” marriage to persons unacquainted with Scottish law. Her husband saw that she was pained and tried to reassure her:
“You need not distress yourself, my dear. It is all right. ‘Irregular’ is only a name for a particular form of marriage in this Country. It is equally legal with any other marriage.”
“But who is Lord Athlyne, and where is he? That is the name of the man who Mrs. O’Brien told Joy was the only man good enough for her.”
“Lord Athlyne” said Colonel Ogilvie “at present our son-in-law, is none other than Mr. Richard Hardy with whom you shook hands just now!”
“Lucius, I am all amazed! There seems to be a sort of network of mystery all round us. But one thing: if Joy was married yesterday how on earth can she be going to be married to-day?”
‘To avoid the possibility of legal complications later on! It is all right, my dear. You may take it from me that there is no cause for concern! But there were certain things, usually attended to beforehand, which on this occasion — owing to ignorance and hurry and unpremeditation — were not attended to. In order to prevent the possibility of anything going wrong by any quibble, they are to be married again just now.”
“Where? when?”
“Here, in this room!”
“But where’s the clergyman; where is the license?”
“There is neither. This is a Scottish marriage! Later on we can have a regular church marriage with a bishop if you wish or an archbishop; in a church or a room or a Cathedral — just as you prefer.” Mrs. Ogilvie perceptibly stiffened as he spoke. Then she said, with what she thought was dignified gravity, which seemed to others like frigid acidity:
“Do I understand, Colonel Ogilvie, that you are a consenting party to another ‘irregular’” — she quivered as she said the word — ”marriage? And that my daughter is to be made a laughing stock amongst all our acquaintances by three different marriages?”
“That is so, my dear. It is for Joy’s good!”
“Her good? Fiddlesticks! But in that case I have nothing more to say!” Some of her wrath seemed to be turned on both Athlyne and Joy; for she did not say a single word to either of them. She simply relapsed into stony silence.
Mrs. O’Brien’s reception of the news afforded what might be termed the “comic relief’ of the strained situation. She raised her hands, as though in protest to heaven for allowing such a thing, and emitted a loud wail such as a “keener” raises at an Irish wake. Then she burst into voluble speech:
“Oh wirrasthrue me darlin’ bhoy, is it a haythen Turk y’ are becomin’, to take another wife whin ye’ve got one already only a day ould. An such a wan more betoken — the beautifullest darlinest young cratur what iver I seen! Her that I picked out long ago as the only wan that ye was good enough for. Shure, couldn’t ye rist content wid Miss Joy, me darlin’? It’s lookin’ forward I was to nursin’ her childher, as I nursed yerself me lord darlin’, her childher, an yours! An’ now it’s another woman steppin’ in betune ye; an’ maybe there’ll be no childher at all, at all. Wirrasthrue!”
“But look here, Nanny,” said Athlyne with some impatience. “Can’t you see that you’re all wrong. It is to Joy that I am going to marry again! There’s no other woman coming in between us. Tis only the dear girl herself!”
“Ah, that’s all very well, me lord darlin’; but which iy them is to be the mother? Faix but I’ll go an ax her Ladyship this minit!” And go she did, to Athlyne’s consternation and Joy’s embarrassment. All in a hurry she started up and went over to the sofa where Joy sat, and with a bob curtesy said to her:
“Me lady, mayn’t I have the nursin’ ay yer childher, the way I had their father before them? Though, be the same token, it’s not the same nursin’ I can give thim, wid me bein’ ould an’ rhun dhry!” Joy felt that the only thing to do was to postpone the difficulty to a more convenient season, when there should not be so many eyes — some of them strange ones — on her. To do this as kindly and as brightly as she could, she said:
“But dear Mrs. O’Brien, isn’t it a little soon to think — or at any rate to speak — of such things?”
“Wasn’t ye married yisterday?” interrupted the old woman. But looking at her lady’s cheeks she went on in a different tone:
“But me darlin’ — Lady, it’s over bould an’ too contagious for me to mintion such things, as yit. But I’ll take, if I may, a more saysonable opportunity to ask ye to patthernise me. Some time whin ye’re more established as a wife thin ye are now!”
“Indeed” said Joy kindly. “I shall only be too happy to have you near me. And if I — if we are ever blessed with a little son I hope you will try to teach him to be as like his — ” she stopped, blushing, but after a short pause went on “as like my dear husband as ever you can!” There was a break in her voice which moved the old woman strongly. She lifted the slim fine young hand to her withered lips and kissed it fervently.
“Glory be to God! me Lady, but it’s the proud woman I’ll be to keep and guard the young Earrll. An’ I’ll give my life for him if needs be!”
“Come now!” said the Sheriff who had been speaking with Colonel Ogilvie and Athlyne, and who had read over the paper written by the latter. “Come now all you good people! All sit round the room except you two principals to this solemn contract. You two stand before me and read over the paper. You, my Lord, read it first; and then you too, my Lady, do the same!” They sat round as they wished. Joy and Athlyne stood up before the Sheriff, who was also standing. Instinctively they took hands, and Athlyne holding the paper in his left hand, read as follows:
“We Calinus Patrick Richard Westerna Mowbray Hardy Fitzgerald, Earl of Athlyne, Viscount Roscommon and Baron Ceann-da-Shail and Joy Fitzgerald or Ogilvie late of Airlville in the State of Kentucky, United States of America, agree that we shall be and are united in the solemn bonds of matrimony according to the Law of Scotland and that we being of one mind as to the marriage, are and hereby declare ourselves man and wife.
Witness of above We the undersigned hereby declare that we have in the presence of the above signatories and of each other seen the foregoing signatures appended to this deed by the signatories themselves in our presence and in the presence of each other.
Alexander Fenwick (Sheriff of Galloway).
Lucius Ogilvie (father of the bride).
Mary Hayes Ogilvie (mother of the bride).
Bedelia Ann O’Brien, widow (formerly nurse and foster mother to the bridegroom).
Judith Hayes (aunt of the bride).”
When the document was completed by the signatures the Sheriff, having first scanned it carefully, offered it to Colonel Ogilvie, who raising a protesting hand said:
“No, no, Mr. Sheriff! I think we should all prefer that it should be kept in your custody, if you will so oblige us.”
“With the greatest pleasure” he said; and Athlyne and Joy having consented to the scheme he folded the document and put it into his pocket. Just then the landlady, having knocked and being bidden to enter, came into the room followed by several maids and men bearing dishes.
“And now to breakfast” he went on. “Will the Bride kindly sit on my right hand, with her Husband next her. Mrs. Ogilvie,
will you honour me by sitting on my left, with Colonel Ogilvie to support you on the other side. Miss Hayes will you kindly sit on Lord Athlyne’s right” “And Mrs.... Mrs. O’Brien,” whispered Judy. He went on:
“Mrs. O’Brien will you sit on Colonel Ogilvie’s left”
“Deed an’ I’ll noti” said the Irishwoman sturdily.
“Do you mean” asked Colonel Ogilvie icily “that you do not care to sit next to me individually?”
“Faix an’ I don’t mane anything so foolish yer ‘ann’r. Why should the likes o’ me dar to object to the likes iy you? All I mane, sorr, is that an ould Biddy like me isn’t fit to sit down alongside the quality — let alone an Earrll and his Laady whose unborn childher I’m to nurse. An’, more betoken, on such an owdacious occasion — shure an I don’t mane that but such a suspicious occasion.”
“Mrs. O’Brien ma’am” said the Sheriff taking her hand “you’re going, I hope to take your place at the table that all these good friends wish you to take.”
“In troth no yer” — whispering to Joy “what’s a Sheriff called Miss Joy? Is he ‘yer Majesty’ or ‘me lord’ or ‘yer ann’r’ or what is he anyhow?” “I think he is ‘yer honour’” said Joy. So Mrs. O’Brien continued: “Yer Ann’r. Don’t ask me fur to sit down wid the quality, where I don’t belong. But let me give a hand to these nice girrls and byes to shling the hash. Shure it’s a stewardess I am, an accustomed to shovin’ the food.”
“Nanny” said Athlyne kindly but in a strong voice “we all want you to sit at table with us to-day. And I hope you won’t refuse us that pleasure.”
“Certainly me darlin’ lord!” she said instantly. “In coorse what plases ye!” The Master had spoken; she was content to obey without question. In the meantime Joy had been whispering to her mother who now spoke out:
“Mr. Sheriff, will you allow me to make a suggestion about the places at table?”
“With a thousand delights, madam. Pray make whatever disposition you think best I am only too grateful for your help.”
“Thank you, sir. Well, if you do not mind I should like my sister, Miss Hayes, placed next to you; then Colonel Ogilvie and myself. On the other side if you will place next to my son-in-law his old nurse, I am right sure that both will be pleased.”
“Hear, hear!” said Athlyne. “Come along, Nanny, and sit next your boy! Joy and I shall be delighted to have you close to us. Won’t you, darling.” Joy’s answer was quite satisfactory to him:
“Of course... Darling!” It was wonderful what a world of love she put into the utterance of those two syllables.
The breakfast was a great success, though but few of the party ate heartily. Neither Athlyne nor Joy did justice to the provender. They whispered a good deal and held hands surreptitiously under the table, and their eyes met constantly. The same want of appetite seemed to have affected both the Sheriff and Judy; but silence and a certain restraint and primness were their characteristics. Mrs. O’Brien, seated on the very edge of her chair, was too proud and too happy to eat. But she was storing up for future enjoyment fond memories of every incident, however trivial.
It was mid-day before any move was made. There were no speeches — in public, as all considered it would break the charm that was over the occasion if anything so overt took place. When all is understood, speech becomes almost banal. But there were lots of whisperings; whispers as soft in their tone as their matter was sweet. No one appeared to notice any one else at such moments; though be sure that there were words and tones and looks that were remembered later by the receivers, and looks and movements that were remembered by the others. Judy and the Sheriff had much to say to each other. Ample opportunity was given from the fact that the newly married pair found themselves occupied with each other almost exclusively. Occasionally, of course, Joy and the Sheriff conversed; but as a working rule he was quite content to devote himself to Judy who seemed quite able to hold up her end of the serious flirtation. When finally the patty broke up, preparatory to setting out for the south, the Sheriff asked Colonel Ogilvie if it might be possible that he should join in travel with the party, as he wished to spend a few days in Ambleside — a place which he had not visited for many years. Colonel Ogilvie cordially acquiesced. He was pretty sure by now that the meeting of Judy and this new friend would end in a match, and he was glad to do anything which might result in the happiness of his sister-in-law of whom he was really fond. But it was not on this account only that he made him welcome. The reaction from his evil temper was on him. Conscience was awake and pricking into him the fact that he had behaved brutally. His mind did not yet agree in the justice of the verdict but that would doubtless come later. He now wished to show to all that there was quite another side of his character. In this view he pressed that the Sheriff should be his guest. The other was about to object when he realised that by accepting he would be one of the household, and so much closer to Judy, and more and ottener in her society than would otherwise be possible. So he accepted gladly, and he and the Colonel soon became inseparable — except when Judy was speaking! In such case Colonel Ogilvie often felt himself rather left out in the cold. At the beginning of breakfast Athlyne had learned from Joy of the abandonment of the motor, and he had accordingly sent his father-in-law’s chauffeur, with his pilot, to bring it back. They had to travel in a horse carriage; he could not drive two motors at once, and the pilot could not drive one. In due course the motor was retrieved, and having been made clean and taut by the “first-class mechanicien and driver” was ready for the road. Colonel Ogilvie’s motor was also ready, and as the pilot could now be left to travel home by train so that the owner could sit by his chauffeur, there would be room for the new guest to sit between the two ladies in the tonneau. When he mentioned this arrangement, however, the Sheriff did not jump at it, but found difficulties in the way of incommoding the ladies. At last he said:
“I hope you will excuse me, Ogilvie, but I had already formed a little plan which I hoped with your sanction and that of your wife, to carry out. Before breakfast I — Miss Hayes and I had been talking of the old manner of posting. Her idea had, I think, been formed by seeing prints of breakdowns of carriages in run-away matches to Gretna Green, and I suggested... In fact I ventured to offer to drive her in old-fashioned postal style to Ambleside, and let her see what it was like. I have in my house at Galloway a fine old shay that my father and mother made their wedding trip in. It has always been kept in good trim, and it is all right for the journey. As Sheriff I have post-boys in my employ for great occasions and I have good horses of my own. So when J... Miss Hayes accepted my offer... of the journey, I wired off to have the trap sent down here. Indeed it should arrive within a very short time. I have also wired for relays of horses to be ready at Dumfries, Annan, Carlisle and Patterdale, so that when we start we should go without a hitch. My boys know the road, and four horses will spin us along in good style — even if we cannot keep up with your motor.” So it was arranged that the pilot could occupy his old place with the chauffeur, and the Colonel and Mrs. Ogilvie would travel in the tonneau, Darby and Joan fashion. This settlement of affairs had only been arrived at after considerable discussion. When her father had told Joy that she was to ride with her mother, she had spoken out at once — without arrangement with Athlyne or even consultation with him:
“Athlyne will drive me, and we can take Mrs. O’Brien with us. There is stacks of room in the tonneau, and we have no luggage. I am sure my husband would like to have her with us.”
But when the arrangement was mentioned to the foster-mother she refused absolutely to obey any such order:
“What” she said “me go away in the coach wid the bride and groom! An ould corrn-crake like me wid the quality; an this none other than me own darlin’ lord and Miss Joy that I’m going to nurse the childher iy her. No, my Lady, I’ll do no such thing! Do ye think I’m goin’ to shpoil shport when me darlin’ does be drivin’ wid his beautiful wife by him an’ him kissin’ her be the yard an’
the mile an’ the hour, an’ huggin’ her be the ton, as he ought to be doin’, or he’s not the man I’ve always tuk him for. Shure ma’am” this to Mrs. Ogilvie “this is their day an’ their hour, an’ iviry minit iy it is goold an dimons to them! I’m telhin’ ye, I’d liefer put me eyes on Styx than do such a thing!” Mrs. Ogilvie, who recognised the excellence of her ideas, said:
“Then you must come with the Colonel and me. We’ve loads of room, and we are all alone.”
“An’ savin’ yer presence, so ye should be ma’am whin ye’re seein’ yer daughter goin’ aff wid her man. There’s loads iy things you and your man will want to be talkin’ about. Musha! if it’s only rememberin’ what ye said an’ done whin ye was aff on yer own honeymoon. Mind ye, ma’am, it’s not bad talkin’ or rememberin’, that’s not! No motors for me, ma’am — to-day at any rate. I’ll go by the thrain that I kem’ by; an’ when I get to yer hotel, if I’m before ye, I’ll shtraighten out things for ye, an’ have the rooms nice an’ ready. For mind ye, ma’am, me darlin’ Lord tould me that he’s goin’ to have a gran’ weddin’ to Miss Joy whin he gets his license! Be the way, does he get that, can ye tell me ma’am, from the polis or where the sheebeeners gits theirs? An’ ay there’s goin’ to be a weddin’ wid flowers an’ gowns an’ veils an’ things in church, I suppose they won’t be too previous about commin’ together. Musha! but’s it’s a quare sort iy ways the quality has! Weddin’s here be the Sheriff, an’ thin be bishops, an’ wid licenses. An’ him in Bowness — for that’s where he tells me he’s shtoppin’ — an’ his wife in Ambleside — on their weddin’ night! Begob! Ireland’s changin’ fast, fur that usen’t to be the way. I’m thinkin’ that the Shinn-Fayn’ll have to wake up a bit if that’s the way things is going to go. Or else there’ll be millea murther, from the Giant’s Causeway to Cape Clear!” As Mrs. Ogilvie did not wish to discuss this part of the question herself, she beckoned over Athlyne and told him that Mrs. O’Brien had refused to go in his motor.
“Not even if I ask you or tell you to?” he said to the old woman, having not the least intention of doing either.