The moment they came into view, the pipe organ began to play a tune. At the same time, all heads turned in their direction. Stirling was the last to look
Walking down the aisle, Clementine couldn’t help sneaking furtive glances at the people sitting on the pews that filled the church all the way to where Stirling, Royce, Rory, the vicar and a selection of ushers stood. As she approached, he came into full view.
Stirling looked so handsome in his midnight-blue double-breasted frock coat with the peaked lapels. The coat reached his knees, partially covering his grey breeches. Under his arm, he sported a top hat, which he promptly handed to Rory when he saw her. Other garments included a dark burgundy waistcoat, white shirt with cravat and shiny black boots that could have been used as a mirror.
He seemed nervous on this day of days. Clementine could see the concentration etched onto his features. It was what he looked like when he read the newspaper. She wondered what was on his mind. She asked herself why men and women were so inherently different. While he worried last minute, Clementine had taken care of those sentiments days ago.
It had however been a hard process getting through it – it had hit her unexpectedly, clandestinely, that horrid melancholy, that questioning that had not made any sense to her. She loved Stirling, then why was she having these morbid thoughts like someone sitting alone in a dark room? As with most young brides, she had felt great trepidation in the days before the wedding celebration.
She had lain in her bed watching rain streak the dirt on the windows at her parents’ home in London, trying not to panic, doubts crawling through her mind. Hadn't she enjoyed the last two years of her life as an independent woman more than any others? That pure freedom was about to slip from her grasp.
She knew that Stirling was the right man. He was honourable, brave and kind. Yet, she could still feel the pain when she had thought him lost in the storm. It had felt like a part of her being ripped out of her body. Sometimes, she dreamed of it. It was always the same: Stirling swirled round and round in an angry sea. The current formed a whirlpool that would suck him under.
Clementine had always woken up after that. She would look around her room in an attempt to make sure she was not back at the Scutari Hospital where she had received the fateful news. Relief had always descended over her when she had realized that she was back in England. One thing still remained. Clementine knew that she could never go through that again.
In moments like that when fear had threatened to overwhelm her, she had closed her eyes and thought of the prodigious preparations already taking place: cakes being baked, shoes polished, coats fitted, gardens trimmed, carriages cleaned, and large casks of Scottish whiskey, wine, champagne and carts piled high with food for the wedding feast being rolled along the streets to the great house.
Questions had drummed persistently in her mind: what would life be like after making her vows? She even dreaded the thought of having children. The ways of a man and wife, alone together, seemed utterly mysterious to her. Was she good enough for Stirling? Or would his eye turn to other, more comely women in a few years’ time.
Somehow, the reading of The Lustful Turk had not been enough to educate her. Were all men the same? Did they require strange things from their wives when they were alone with them? More importantly, would she be able to deliver and satisfy his desire? Would she want to? After all, she was her own person and a woman who had seen things – horrible things and survived.
Those had been some of the questions plaguing her mind and robbing her of her sleep. Clementine had even lost weight because of it. She had grown paler. Her father had worried that she would fall ill and the wedding rescheduled.
However, Elizabeth had known exactly what was going on. In a moment of sisterly wisdom, she had calmed Clementine down with a few well-placed and well-meant words. She had admitted that she had felt the very same trepidation before her great day.
It was an interesting turn of events for Clementine because her sister usually was the one seeking out advice. In this area, she was the one with the experience. Unlike Clementine, she was no virgin. She did not need to rely on literature found in their father’s library – Elizabeth had first-hand experience in the act of making love. The moment she had started to speak of it, Clementine had been enthralled.
When she finally stood next to her man, she suddenly felt the angst leave her body. It was as if only being near him was sufficient to soothe her. The bride and groom smiled at each other carefully.
Before them, the vicar, who emulated Friar Tuck in almost everything from his bulk to his bulbous red nose, acquired from too much alcohol consumption, began to welcome the congregation. His voice was deep and raspy, somehow pleasant to the ear. It wrapped itself around Clementine, drawing her into his religious world.
“O God, who consecrated the bond of Marriage
by so great a mystery
that in the wedding covenant you foreshadow
the Sacrament of Christ and his Church,
grant, we pray, to these your servants,
that what they receive in faith
they may live out in deeds.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, forever and ever.”
When the clergyman finished, the organ took up note once more, heralding the advent of the opening hymn. Stirling smiled at his bride. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life – nothing could compare. Seeing her again after having been separated from her for days was the true gift. Gradually, he settled his busy mind and let the singing claim him.
“Amazing Grace, How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now am found
T'was blind but now I see…”
The entire congregation joined in. Clementine had to stifle a giggle when she heard Stirling’s deep baritone top even the vicar’s hearty tenors. He sung at the top of his voice. There was no tune to it, just a series of barks and gurgles. She did her best to out sing him with her soft sweet voice. Her attempts were in vain. It was like putting a parakeet up against crow.
“T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear
And Grace, my fears relieved
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed
Through many dangers, toils and snares
We have already come.
T'was grace that brought us safe thus far
And grace will lead us home,
And grace will lead us home
Amazing grace, How Sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost but now am found
T'was blind but now I see
Was blind, but now I see.”
The pipe organ played the final note. On cue, the over three hundred people in the church sat down and slipped onto their knees on the wooden supports in preparation for prayer.
Clementine and Stirling kneeled next to one another. Their lives were in the making – their future to be joined – love was all that mattered on this day.
Once more, the vicar’s drone filled the airwaves, enhanced by the halls excellent acoustics:
“Dear brothers and sisters,
as we call to mind the special gift of grace and charity
by which God has been pleased to crown and consecrate
the love of our sister and our brother,
let us commend them to the Lord.”
Clementine found herself lost in the words. Her mind screamed at her. Time merged into one moment that felt like it lasted forever. The happiness rushing over her stuck, turned and whirled until embossed on her soul. Feeling a tear threaten to seep out of her eye and roll off her lashes, she gritted her teeth.
Automatically, her mouth started moving, though it did not repeat the priest’s words – Clementine prayed for Stirling – she prayed that he would never leave her s
ide again.
“Graciously pour out upon this husband and wife, O Lord,
the Spirit of your love,
to make them one heart and one soul,
so that nothing whatever may divide those you have joined
and no harm come to those you have filled with your blessing.
Through Christ our Lord – Amen.”
The ceremony carried on with many more risings, sittings and kneeling. There were more psalms, readings, gospels and homilies. Finally, it was over. The address of statement and intentions and the exchange of consent were upon them.
“Dearly beloved, you have come together into this house of the Church so that, in the presence of the Church’s minister and the community, your intention to enter into Marriage may be strengthened by the Lord with a sacred seal…”
He touched both Clementine and Stirling on the heads with two outstretched fingers. “Stirling Malcolm Henry Tiberius Whitt Whittaker, son of Edward Whitt Whittaker, the eighth Duke of Kenbridge and Clementine Vesta Victoria Delaney, daughter of Clive Delaney, Earl of Leighton, have you come here to enter into Marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”
“I have,” said Stirling without hesitation.
Silence.
As time oozed by like a crumb being dragged through molasses, the people in the church began to murmur. The scuffing of boots and shoes against the flagstones could be heard. The odd cough sounded cacophonous in the high-ceilinged structure. Clementine felt a nudge to her ribs. It was Stirling prodding her person. “Are you all right, my love?”
Clementine nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “I am only worried that this is too good to be true. What happens if you are taken from me again?”
“My love, I’m not going anywhere.” Stirling smiled at her affectionately.
“But you are a Colonel in the Hussars – you will be called to war again – I am sure of it.”
For a moment, Stirling thought of his recent promotion. Lord Cardigan had presaged the act with his steely will. Also, it had not been long ago that he had been awarded the Victoria Cross for his bravery in battle. His father, Clementine, Royce, Elizabeth, Rory and Clementine’s family had all been present at the ceremony.
“Yes, that may be, but we will always be together.” He kissed her on the forehead, making Friar Tuck tut. “Now, marry me, will you?”
Clementine nodded. Heartbeats thumped angrily in her ribcage as fear overcame her. More time passed. She worried that no happiness such as the one she felt could remain. More time and then an epiphany.
“I have,” tumbled out of her mouth. She loved Stirling and nothing, not even death, could take that away from her.
Florence had once said, being in love was the easy part – loving somebody was not. She decided then that she would love the man beside her with all of her being. God had given him back to her despite thinking him dead and nearly threatening his life in the process.
Like a hurricane, the minister exhaled a full rush of air. He promptly continued.
“Are you prepared, as you follow the path of Marriage, to love and honour each other for as long as you both shall live?” – the bride and groom both said “I am”.
“Are you prepared to accept children lovingly from God and to bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?” – “I am” – “Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.”
Clementine smiled as Stirling’s strong hand that was crisp and warm slipped into hers. She gave it an extra squeeze, sneaking a furtive glimpse at him in the process.
“I, Stirling Malcolm Henry Tiberius Whitt Whittaker, son of Edward Whitt Whittaker, the eighth Duke of Kenbridge take thee, Clementine Vesta Victoria Delaney, daughter of Clive Delaney, Earl of Leighton, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
A golden ring slipped on the fourth finger of her left hand. Clementine did not look down. Feeling it was enough to remind her that she was now his. She had to muster all of her resolve not to scream with joy. A quick glimpse at the wooden cross with the prostate figure of the Lord Jesus Christ adorning it, she knew that she was now his bride.
“Father forgive them for they know not what they are doing – I tell you the truth today, you will be with me in paradise.” The last part referred to what Jesus had said to one of the criminals on the cross next to him sharing his fate. The man had recognized him as what he was, namely the Son of God. Clementine knew that forgiveness was one of the base tenets of Christianity. She also knew that love was also one of the things God demanded from his brethren.
Clementine knew that God was with her and that nothing would go wrong. The love she harboured for Stirling and he for her was true – there was no greater thing.
When the priest cleared his throat and asked her to declare her consent, she pressed her lips together and nodded. It was the moment she had wanted since the day she had met Stirling.
Clementine swallowed. The first words that came from her mouth sounded like the squeak of a mouse. As she became more confident, her voice hardened and became more purposeful. She needed not worry – Stirling would never rob her of her independence. He loved her too much for that.
She knew it was going to be all right. “I, Clementine Vesta Victoria Delaney, daughter of Clive Delaney, Earl of Leighton, take thee, Stirling Malcolm Henry Tiberius Whitt Whittaker, son of Edward Whitt Whittaker, the eighth Duke of Kenbridge, to be my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”
“May the Lord Jesus,
who graced the marriage at Cana by his presence,
bless you and your loved ones.”
Response: Amen.
“May he, who loved the Church to the end,
unceasingly pour his love into your hearts.”
Response: Amen.
“May the Lord grant
that, bearing witness to faith in his Resurrection,
you may await with joy the blessed hope to come.”
Response: Amen.
And he blesses all the people, adding:
“And may almighty God bless all of you, who are gathered here, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.”
And so, ended the service.
Epilogue
After the ceremony, the newlyweds snatched half an hour together in Stirling’s room in his father’s sprawling manor house before facing the crowd at the wedding lunch. They had laughed so much – blissful moments in each other’s arms.
Clementine then changed into another white dress, edged with swansdown, and a bonnet with an enormous brim – a hat she could hide inside. It was both an outfit for show as it was one for travel.
The feast that followed was a frenzy of nodding, curtsying, beaming and hand shaking. The couple finally left at four in the afternoon, trotting off in simple fashion as the sun started to poke fingers through the clouds. Two coaches accompanied them, one for Elizabeth and Royce and the other for the servants. The people cheered and ran alongside as the vehicles left.
As the sun singed the clouds red before sinking into black, the bride marvelled that it was just she and Stirling alone, which was SO delightful. This would be a refrain throughout her marriage: what she wanted most of all, always, was to be with Stirling alone.
After a three-hour journey, the exhausted couple arrived at Portsmouth. Clementine had a slight headache; she changed and lay on the couch in the drawing room in the inn, mentally scrolling through images of her chaotic day.
Royce played the piano as she rested. It was so much quieter than bef
ore; what a relief. She thought back on the past few hours: the look on her dear father and mother’s faces as they had tried to stem their tears. The happy moment when Stirling placed a ring on her finger and it was done. The rippling, jostling ocean of faces lining the route out of the chapel; and at her new father-in-law’s home, the thick heat of goodwill, the deafening applause, the sight of elegant Stirling in his attire.
Everyone had been there, Rory and his wife with the children in tow. Sally and her new man had stood with the others waving and cheering. Stirling’s brothers had even managed a smile and a few brief words of congratulations when they had spoken. Stirling’s father, the Duke, had been like nothing her husband had described. He had been charming to the point of being sweet. Stirling now received a generous allowance and had been gifted an elaborate property in London.
Diaries of a Heartbroken Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 57