by Dayna Quince
He must have felt the same, or they wouldn’t be here now. His proposal had come as a surprise out of the blue, and she had accepted for reasons she didn’t quite understand. He’d returned to her home two days after the wedding to her and her families welcome surprise, he spoke to her father and then to her. The moment was so surreal Hazel didn’t remember most of it. It didn’t matter. He asked, she answered, and here they were. As sudden and unexpected as the proposal and short engagement had been, Hazel never veered from the path. She was drawn to him, her heart pulling her like a magnate.
Those same thoughts were running through her mind when they arrived at the church. The large doors swung open, the crowd outside cheered her on. The interior was dim, but she walked in on steady feet without hesitation. She ignored every face turned her way and focused on the altar. He was there, looking handsome and a bit somber. She felt a small spurt of panic.
Oh, no. He was having regrets. She couldn’t believe it. It had been his idea, his proposal, and his kiss! She thought back to what Anabelle had said. Her sister had just returned from her honeymoon, and Hazel told her the news. Her first question was, do you love him? Of course, Hazel didn’t love him. She barely knew him. But she knew something. There was something between them, and Hazel didn’t want to wait. She just knew they were meant to be, but she was missing all the things in the middle that preempted knowing they were meant to be. There had only been one kiss. Without a doubt, Anabelle had much more than kisses with her now husband before they married, but she wouldn’t share any of it with Hazel. Hazel knew regardless. She could see it in the way they looked at each other.
Hazel broke her gaze on the altar and searched the many faces for the one most like her own. She found her sister easily, beaming with joy. Hazel felt her answering smile. She suspected she was very different from her twin, but they would always have that something that twins shared, the invisible tether of love to always connect them. She began to scan the crowd, a sea of smiling faces. But one person stood out among the crowd, she stood out because instead of open eyes and smiling lips, Hazel had a wonderful view of the back of her head. It was an older woman. At first, Hazel didn’t know who, but as they reached the final rows of pews, it struck Hazel in the chest. Mrs. Danford had her back to her. Hazel kept her expression serene as her father handed her off to her soon to be husband. Under closer inspection, Lord Bainbridge did not look as somber. His eyes had a light in them that buoyed her confidence.
She would have to remind herself of this often. Of what little she knew of him. He kept his emotions under lock and key, a still surface of water over a fathom deep lake. What lay beneath his surface? This is what she wanted to find out. He was elusive. A puzzle to be solved. She accepted the challenge happily because she knew, from what little she already knew, what little she had discovered in their brief acquaintance, and the feeling he caused with his mere presence deep inside her, that she could love him. And he would love her. And together they would fill the unknown emptiness in each other. Hazel knew that without a doubt. With every fiber of her being.
What she didn’t know was what he knew. What were his motives for proposing? This was probably the wrong time to be examining that question. She looked into his eyes one last time before they turned to face the bishop.
Hazel remembered that one lone head that hadn’t watched her procession. She subtly twisted her torso and then her head to view the first few pews. There she was, her brow devoid of emotion, but her lips were pinched. Hazel faced forward completely. Perhaps it was Hazel’s tardiness, but Mrs. Danford looked as sour as a lemon.
Mrs. Danford was an enigma Hazel had yet to figure out. She wasn’t sure Mrs. Danford approved of the marriage or simply didn’t like Hazel. Whatever the case was, she was always polite, but her sentiments and kindness patently false.
For the time being, Hazel gave up trying to understand. She only wanted to focus on herself and the man standing next to her. She peeked at him, as subtly as she could. He was standing tall beside her, his eyes looking very gold in the colorful light reflecting through the stained glass windows. His cravat snowy white and tucked into a waistcoat that matched her dress. His jacket and trousers were dove-grey. She was startled when he spoke, her heart fluttering like a little trapped bird. In her musings, she had completely drowned out the words of the bishop. The timber of his voice set off a warm current in her body. She couldn’t wait to hear more of it, to have all the time she wanted to speak privately with him.
The bishop turned to her. She swallowed to moisten her throat before answering. They were instructed to face each other. Hazel turned and looked up into his eyes. Although his lips lay still, his eyes were smiling. He picked up her hand. He spoke again, reciting his vows. Hazel felt them inside her, the warm current growing stronger, her body beginning to hum and vibrate like the cord of a cello after being plucked. She tried to listen, but she felt them instead. He finished, his lips gently curving as he stared back at her and slipped a ring onto her finger. It was a topaz set in a foiled back, a rose gold band with a silver collet of diamonds.
Hazel took a deep breath. She began to repeat after the bishop. She didn’t feel inside herself anymore. She felt like a spectator, hovering just outside herself. She felt like a hummingbird, jittery and frantic with pent up emotions of excitement and awe. She finished, proud that she hadn’t verbally stumbled. The bishop began to speak again. Hazel didn’t hear another word. There was an odd buzzing in her ears and they felt stuffed with cotton. She could feel her knee’s turning to custard. She focused on the Bible in the bishops hands and took a few deep breaths. It was horribly warm inside the church. She could feel her shift sticking to her skin in between her shoulder blades.
Was she going to faint? Hazel had never fainted before. She’d seen women faint, falsely and legitimately, but she didn’t know the process of feelings one went through before a fainting spell. Did one feel it or did they simply slip into unconsciousness? Whatever the case, she was growing more uncomfortable by the second. She had yet to eat after losing her accounts this morning and only rinsed her mouth after brushing with tooth powder. Her stomach felt like it was gnawing on a rock.
She began to panic. She was either going to faint for the first time in her life or vomit in front of the entire church, also for the first time. Neither she wanted to do, but fainting would be preferable to disgracing the church. Perhaps she could sway herself towards fainting if she closed her eyes and let her knees relax into complete custard. She began to take slow even breaths through her nose and out her mouth. She turned herself just a hair so she could see Anabelle. Somehow, she must warn her sister.
She caught Anabelle’s gaze. Anabelle was already looking at her and her expression was not reassuring.
“You’re a bit green.” She mouthed and then interestingly, she looked across, where Hazel surmised Draven to be standing and mouthed something else. “I predict she’ll soon be sick.”
Hazel turned her attention to the bishop. He continued to drone on and on, his words falling like a hammer on her temples. Anabelle was right.
“If you faint, I will catch you.”
“She’s not going to faint.”
“Fake it and I’ll get you out of here.”
Hazel would have flushed with embarrassment if she had any blood flow to her face, but at that moment, her stomach was doing an odd gurgle. Surely everyone could hear her now husband, sister, and brother in law’s whispered discussion? Had they been communicating silently about her this whole time?
Hazel could feel her gorge rising. She tipped her chin to her chest and let her knee’s give way. She dropped to her knees with a painful jolt and the church erupted with gasps. She snapped her eyes closed and went limp. Before the rest of her fell to the floor, someone lifted her, Bainbridge she supposed, and Anabelle shouted to get her outside immediately. She had no idea which direction they went, but within seconds, the light of the morning sun penetrated her eyelids and cool air touched her chee
ks. She took a shaky breath of fresher air.
“Anabelle!” she cried.
“Put her down and depart, my lord.”
“I’m not going to leave her side.”
Bainbridge’s voice rumbled through his chest against Hazel’s side. Hazel couldn’t resist opening her eyes and peeking at him. Sunlight haloed around his head. If her ears weren’t ringing, she would surely hear angels singing. She kicked her feet down. He looked down at her and kept one arm around her as her feet touched the ground and she steadied herself.
His brow furrowed. “How are you feeling?”
Hazel shook her head and pushed herself out of his arms. She ran away from him. Anabelle followed her. She rounded the nearest corner and bent forward to empty the nonexistent contents of her stomach. Anabelle was right behind her, hastily holding her skirts away. Hazel couldn’t breathe between wretches. The only upside was there wasn’t anything in her stomach to splatter her skirts with. She started to cry, her body jerking with sobs and heaves interchangeably. She prayed Bainbridge hadn’t followed. Her stomach finally un-bunched inside her, and Hazel took her first full breath. Anabelle held out a handkerchief. Hazel took it, wiping her eyes and then mouth. A glass of water appeared next.
“Your mother is searching for you.”
Hazel heard Draven’s voice. She covered her face with her hands.
“There may be some… speculation,” he added.
“She isn’t the first bride to faint,” Anabelle said defensively.
“Nor would she be the first to—”
“That isn’t correct either.”
Hazel wasn’t sure what they were talking about. She finally felt the tiniest bit better.
“May I attend to my wife now?”
She heard Bainbridge’s voice. Dear God, what must he be thinking? Hazel’s hands shook as she took another sip of water. She looked up at her surroundings. They were behind the church. Draven stood leaning against the corner of the building, and Bainbridge presumably just behind him out of sight. Hazel nodded. Draven looked back and spoke over his shoulder.
“Give us a moment,” Hazel asked Anabelle. Anabelle nodded and pulled Draven around the corner.
Lord Bainbridge appeared, still more beautiful than she could believe—even when he looked very serious.
“I’m sorry about all this. I didn’t intend to ruin our wedding.”
“I’m not sure if I should be offended. I’ve never made anyone sick by the idea of marriage to me.”
Hazel wasn’t sure if he was teasing. “Please don’t. It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with Lucy and Anabelle, and celebratory bottles of champagne.”
His lips twitched. His face softened and he half smiled. “Bottles, as in more than one?”
“I believe only two, but I really can’t be sure.”
“There were three,” Anabelle said from around the corner.
“And it has nothing to do with not wanting to marry me?” He stepped closer.
Hazel wished he wouldn’t, but it was clear his pride had been wounded by her antics. She wanted to be closer to him but not immediately after being sick. She put a hand on his chest. “There may have been some nerves involved, but I have not—for even a second—doubted my decision to marry you. My lack of judgment was in the form of the amounts of champagne imbibed.”
He brought his arms around her and kissed her forehead. Hazel was surprised by the sudden tenderness of his actions.
“I believe you. At least we made it through our vows.”
“Thank God for small favors,” Draven said from around the corner.
“What do we do now? I’m sure they are looking for us.”
“I’ll go find Mother and calm her down.” Anabelle hurried away.
“Perhaps we should find our carriage?” Bainbridge said.
Hazel nodded. She didn’t want to see all the guests who witnessed her fabricated faint, but she had to pretend all was up to scratch or there would be talk.
They rounded the corner together. Anabelle was standing with their mother and father. Her mother looked frantic, her father trying to calm her down.
“Mother. There is no cause for concern,” Hazel said once she was close enough not to have to raise her voice.
“Are you ill? You seemed fine this morning.”
Hazel shared a glance with Anabelle. “Just a nervous stomach, I think.”
“Nervous stomach?” Her mother frowned.
“I didn’t really faint. I was going to lose my composure. I thought it better to faint,” Hazel admitted. The longer she stood outside, the warmer she became. All she longed to do was take a cool bath and to return to bed, but that was not possible. How she wished she could undo time like turning back the clock and only have one glass of champagne. This was not the wedding day she envisioned for herself.
“Why don’t we proceed to the carriage and beat the crowd back to the house. I’m sure Hazel would like a moment to compose herself,” her father suggested.
“You must make an appearance in the church,” her mother insisted.
Hazel didn’t like the way her gaze bounced back and forth between her and Lord Bainbridge.
“If we must.”
Bainbridge took her hand and placed it on his arm. They came around the corner to the front of the church. A small crowd had gathered, but most of the guests remained inside.
“All is well,” Bainbridge summoned their attention. “We will continue as planned.”
There was applause following his words. Hazel smiled and accepted congratulations as Bainbridge handed her into the open carriage. More of the guests exited the church. Hazel pretended that nothing had occurred, but she could see the curious glances shared between guests and heads bent together conspiratorially. Hazel bit her cheek. Whatever they thought, it meant nothing now. They were married. She couldn’t wait for the day to be over. That thought gave her a tinge of sadness.
Bainbridge tossed coins into the crowd amid applause and cheering. Bainbridge took his seat beside her, the driver flicked the reins, and they were off. She sighed and leaned back against the seat. The cool wind felt wonderful on her cheeks and eased her tumultuous stomach.
“Feeling better?” He took her hand.
“Yes.”
“Our wedding will certainly make the papers.”
Hazel had tipped her head back and closed her eyes. At that, she opened them and met his gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize, I might have fallen asleep on my feet had the bishop kept going. Our wedding will be memorable.”
“We are married, aren’t we?” Hazel asked in concern.
Bainbridge frowned. “I believe so.”
“Is it necessary to be announced?”
They both just stared at each other with puzzled expressions.
Hazel felt a bubble of laughter. She would have smothered it, but she saw his lips twitch and then he burst into laughter. They both laughed until they entered the drive of her family home.
“Oh, dear,” Hazel said as she wiped a tear. “What an odd wedding. I guess we will find out sooner or later.”
“Sooner I should think. We didn’t sign the certificate.”
Hazel leaned back against the seat and covered her face with her hands. “Could this day get any worse?”
“It’s quite probable,” he answered.
The carriage came to a stop and Bainbridge helped her down. They could hear the rumble of wheels that was their family not far behind.
“What should we do?” he asked her.
“I need to freshen up,” Hazel admitted.
“Certainly. I will do my best to keep them at bay.”
“If you would please send Anabelle to me, my lord?”
He nodded.
Hazel escaped up the stairs. She was breaking every social expectation as a new bride, but she didn’t care anymore. This day needed to be over quickly. This would be her last night in her family home, and tomorrow, sh
e would leave for Lord Bainbridge’s estate. Nothing was going as planned. There was no point in following along now.
Chapter 2
She rang for Mary as soon as she barreled into her room. It was not needed. Mary was already there.
“You must know the atrocity that was my wedding?”
Mary shook her head. “I knew you’d want to freshen up before the breakfast. What happened?”
“The champagne took its toll,” Hazel informed Mary of the rest of the debacle while lying on her bed. Mary applied a cool cloth to her forehead. Hazel knew she wouldn’t have peace for long. As soon as the thought finished, there was a knock on her door.
“Enter,” Hazel grumbled.
Anabelle entered, followed by Lucy, Thea, and Heather.
“The cavalry has arrived!” Lucy shouted.
Hazel covered her ears. “The cavalry needs to be quiet.”
“How are you feeling?” Heather sat on the edge of the bed and took Hazels hand.
“Like a cavalry rode through my head.”
“I suppose this is my fault. These sorts of occurrences usually are.” Lucy sighed.
Heather leveled her gaze at her. “And just how many brides have you felled?”
Lucy shrugged.
“There will be talk,” Thea intercepted. “It was quite the sensation when you fell to your knees and he swooped you up. Very romantic.”
“The gossip that will spread won’t be. What is the chosen story to temper it? I gather you don’t want people to know you were dipping rather deep the eve of your wedding.”