Greek Wedding

by Jane Aiken Hodge

  ‘And if they found me making shameless advances to you, they’d know we weren’t married?’ He laughed and let her go. ‘And we’re going to be late for dinner? At the Biddocks!’ He was enjoying every minute of it. ‘Do you think it too much to hope that Jenny and your aunt will be there too?’

  ‘I’ve been wondering. And—Peter?’

  ‘If Barlow and Brown have obeyed orders, your brother Peter is confined to his cabin at least; in chains if he’s been difficult.’

  ‘Oh, Brett! But, surely, you never imagined—’

  ‘No, frankly, I didn’t. But I did give orders that any emissary from Alex must be treated with the greatest suspicion. The rest follows from that.’

  ‘And their safety. Thank God. I only wish we knew that Oenone was safe! But, Brett, I’ve been longing for a chance to ask. How in the world did you persuade Ibrahim to let us go?’

  His arm was round her again. ‘A bad moment, that one. I was afraid he might be too angry for reason, but he’s no fool, Ibrahim Pasha. When I put it to him that this defeat might be the beginning of independence for Egypt as well as for Greece, he was only too happy to have me go, as his emissary, to Codrington. I’ve told you before, Phyl, there’s no love lost between the Egyptians and the Turks.’

  ‘But you told them, before, you had come from Reshid Pasha.’

  ‘Yes.’ Cheerfully. ‘It saved our lives for the moment. I’m afraid you’ve a hardened liar for a husband, love.’

  ‘I shall never believe another word you say.’

  ‘Not even when I say, “I love you,” love?’ He shook her a little, gently, and let her go. ‘It’s time we were up on deck. We must be nearly there, and Captain Froxe will be in agony, lest we delay him still further.’ And then, as she stood up. ‘I never saw an abigail with skirts as short as that!’

  She laughed and looked ruefully at her exposed ankles. ‘I know. Do you think there’s any hope we could stop at the Helena on our way to this dinner party?’

  ‘Not the least in the world, my darling, so if I were you I would resign myself to the knowledge that you’ve the prettiest pair of ankles I ever hope to see.’

  ‘You’re a great comfort!’ Her tone was so cross that Captain Froxe, joining them at that moment, began to think they must be married after all. He agreed at once to Brett’s request that a message to be sent to the Helena. ‘Though I shall be surprised if we do not meet your sister at Mrs. Biddock’s.’ An anxious glance at the chronometer decided Phyllida not even to mention the question of her dress. She was afraid she was problem enough to Captain Froxe as it was. Where Codrington had accepted their marriage as the most natural thing in the world, Froxe seemed perpetually to be looking at it nervously, sideways.

  * * *

  ‘Mr. Biddock is your man of business, I understand?’ They were in his gig now, being rowed swiftly ashore.

  ‘Yes!’ She was looking at the Helena, safely moored some way away along the jetty, with a sudden mist of tears in her eyes.

  ‘He must be delighted to see you.’ Was the captain anxious about arriving with two uninvited guests and such dubious ones at that? ‘His wife and mine are the greatest of friends.’ It gave the last touch to Phyllida’s picture of his domestic tyrant and her eyes met Brett’s with a suspicion of a twinkle.

  ‘English soil—or as near as makes no difference.’ Brett helped her ashore, and she paused for a moment to look round her at the well-remembered quayside, the tumble of houses up the hill, to enjoy the sight of a perfect orange tree hanging over a garden wall, and persimmons golden as the apples of the Hesperides beside it. She took a deep breath, compounded of harbour, and garden, and, somewhere, the smell of baking.

  ‘Freedom,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, yes.’ Captain Froxe had sent a man running ahead to announce them. ‘This way, my dear’—he paused—‘lady. We’re most deplorably late for dinner.’

  Brett had taken her arm. ‘Lucky you’re so rich,’ he said, sotto voce, as Froxe hurried on ahead. ‘I somehow don’t fel he much approves of us, do you?’

  ‘Approves!’ She could not help laughing. ‘He can’t even bring himself to call me by my name. What will he do when it comes to presenting me to his wife?’

  ‘I look forward to finding out. You don’t mind, do you, love?’

  ‘Mind? Now I’ve seen the Helena safe? If only we knew about Oenone.’

  ‘We’ll find out.’ But they had arrived at the Biddocks’ house.

  Coming in out of the bright sunlight, it was hard, for a moment, to distinguish faces among the group that awaited them in the Biddock’s saloon. Captain Froxe was bending over Cissie Biddock’s hand, unnecessarily profuse in his apologies. Beside her, Biddock was in a visible anguish of embarrassment.

  He bowed rather stiffly to Phyllida. ‘My dear Miss Vannick—’

  ‘Mrs. Renshaw.’ Brett’s correction was made in tones of steel.

  ‘N … n … no.’ Could he actually be contradicting it? It seemed he was. Brett’s hand tightened on her arm as Biddock began again. ‘Some form of ceremony gone through on the mainland I collect?’ He got it out with difficulty. ‘Under normal circumstances, perhaps.’ He looked from one to the other. ‘Miss Vannick, Your Grace, try to understand my position.’

  ‘What did you call me?’

  ‘Y … y … Your Grace.’ And then with a wretched attempt at humour. ‘You must see that whatever she may be, Miss Vannick is quite certainly not Mrs. Renshaw.’

  ‘But my cousin? The child?’

  ‘Tragic,’ said Biddock. ‘Quite tragic. The smallpox.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Phyllida.

  ‘No.’ Amazingly Brett was laughing. ‘Why should you? I do apologise, my love, I seem to have made you a Duchess without knowing it.’

  ‘A—Good God! Me?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. That’s why Mr. Biddock is in such distress. Peers of the realm usually marry in more state. Will it make you feel better, sir, if I tell you that our first intention, my wife’s and mine, is to get married again with all the ceremony you can contrive. And that reminds me, where’s Jenny?’

  He was answered by a commotion in the doorway as Jenny burst in and threw herself into his arms. ‘B, my darling B, you’re safe!’

  ‘If you call it safe! I’m married!’

  ‘I’m so happy I could cry.’ Jenny was kissing Phyllida. ‘Will you very much mind being a Duchess, love?’

  ‘I shall hate it,’ said Phyllida uncompromisingly, then turned to fling her arms round Cassandra’s neck. ‘Aunt Cass, you’re all right?’

  ‘And why not?’ asked Cassandra. ‘But, dear child, what in the world are you doing in that rig? Your ankles!’

  ‘Oh!’ She had forgotten all about Miss Mincheon’s dress. ‘It’s something I borrowed. Dear Aunt, don’t you think, as a Duchess, I may perhaps carry it off?’ She turned back to Brett. ‘Darling, must I be a Duchess?’

  ‘If you dislike it so much, my love, we’ll just have to live in America.’

  ‘Do you know, I have the most lowering feeling that it might be worse there. But’—thoughts of Miss Mincheon had reminded her—‘where is Mrs. Froxe?’

  ‘She don’t much like her entrances spoiled,’ said Jenny naughtily. ‘I collect Mrs. Biddock has gone to tell her we are all met.’ Suddenly, she was looking past Phyllida at the little group of officers who had accompanied Captain Froxe from the Redstart. She turned so white that Phyllida put out an instinctive hand to support her.

  ‘What is it?’ Phyllida paused at sight of a young lieutenant making his determined way towards them.

  ‘Miss Renshaw,’ he bowed punctiliously, then took her hand. ‘It’s been a very long time.’

  ‘Too long,’ said Jenny.

  ‘Well!’ began Aunt Cassandra as the nameless young officer drew Jenny ruthlessly into a corner, but Phyllida was not listening. She had seen Brett’s eyes fix, in horror, on the curving stairway that swept down into the room.

  Mrs. Froxe was mak
ing her entrance. A beauty. Well, Phyllida corrected herself, an ex-beauty. Perhaps a mistake to pause for that moment at the head of the stairs, collecting eyes, since the angle from which they saw her served unkindly to emphasise a slight softening of the clear line of the chin, a corresponding thickening of the elegant waist. Now she moved forward again, as Captain Froxe came up to meet her, babbling his apologies.

  She frowned down at him, and aged another five years. ‘It’s all of a piece. My convenience, your duty to my hosts, are to be as nothing compared with the affairs of a couple of draggletailed refugees.’ She was looking past him now, and let out a sudden gasp as her eyes met Brett’s.

  Cissie Biddock had fluttered down the stairs behind her. ‘My dear.’ She broke a queer little silence. ‘I should have explained. It’s the Duke of Sarum, and,’ she paused, ‘Miss Vannick.’

  Brett’s hand closed like iron on Phyllida’s elbow as he moved her forward to the foot of the stairs. Ignoring Mrs. Biddock, he gazed down for a moment into Mrs. Froxe’s angry blue eyes. Then, ‘Well, Helena,’ he said, ‘how do you do?’ And, without giving her time to answer. ‘May I have the pleasure of making you known to my wife, the Duchess?’

  He was a Duke. He could behave like that. And this, incredibly, was Helena. Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, or, more to the point, brought Brett to the point of suicide? Curtsying solemnly, Phyllida was aware of Helena’s eyes on her ankles, and badly wanted to laugh. Instead, she smiled sweetly and thanked her in dulcet tones for the loan of her maid’s dress.

  Mercifully, Cissie Biddock was marshalling the company in to dinner. Phyllida seized her chance to turn on Brett. ‘If that’s the way Dukes behave, I’m against it.’

  ‘I know.’ Meekly. ‘It was very bad of me. But admit I was provoked?’ They were parted by Cissie Biddock before she could answer him.

  Who had arranged the table? Helena was sitting on Biddock’s right, with Brett beside her. Phyllida was aware of Brett’s angry reaction and grateful to him when he controlled it. This was no moment to be fussing over precedence. Besides, she immensely enjoyed watching Helena play off her beauty’s armoury on Brett, and then felt guilty when she was aware of Captain Froxe, beside her, watching it too. Farther down the table, Jenny had contrived to sit beside her lieutenant, and Phyllida found a safe subject by asking Captain Froxe his name.

  It meant nothing to her, but Froxe appeared to think well of the young man, for what that was worth. Jenny’s look of happiness was infinitely more important. And Peter? The minute this interminable meal was over she must get Jenny, or, more likely, Aunt Cassandra into a corner and find out what had really happened. But, over coffee, she found herself buttonholed by Mr. Biddock. ‘If I might have a private word with you, Miss’—he stopped, compromised—‘ma’am?’ He was shepherding her, as he spoke, into his downstairs office.

  ‘If you wish.’ She must break it to him about her gift to Oenone. ‘But first.’ This she must ask. ‘My brother?’

  ‘Safe on the Helena.’ His tone held deep disapproval. ‘No one has told me anything about it, and I do not in the least wish to know. I only thank God your father had the good sense to leave things as he did. But we have more important things to discuss.’

  ‘Yes?’ Was he finding this more difficult than he had expected?

  ‘I rely on your good sense.’ He stopped, started again in a rush. ‘You must see it’s impossible, ma’am. The story of a wedding in some hole or corner of mainland Greece might do well enough for ordinary people, but for a Duke! Imagine the scandal! I rely on your good sense, Miss Vannick,’ he said again. ‘You will do the right thing, I am convinced of it.’

  ‘And that is?’ She would not let him see, yet, just how angry his use of her maiden name had made her.

  ‘Vanish, ma’am. Go back to America, at once. There’s a packet sails tonight. I’ve made all the arrangements. I did it the minute I heard.’

  ‘Did you consult my aunt?’ She noticed with detached interest that she was trembling a little.

  ‘I had no opportunity. But she’ll see the sense of it. I booked a passage for her too, of course. Don’t you see, it’s the only way. Then if the Duke wishes, he can come over, after a decent interval, and woo you in form.’

  ‘I have never heard so much nonsense in my life.’ And then, while he gaped his surprise. ‘Did you, Mr. Biddock, have the effrontery to book the passage in my name?’

  ‘Well, of course.’

  ‘Then I would be grateful if you would get together the papers relating to my estate. I am transferring my business to Mr. Barff. Today. Your last action on my behalf will be cancelling that passage.’

  ‘Passage?’ Brett joined them. ‘I was wondering where you had got to, love. But what’s the matter?’ He put an arm round her and felt her tremble.

  ‘Mr. Biddock wants me to “vanish”. So as not to disgrace you, my Lord Duke. He’s been so good as to book passages on tonight’s packet for my aunt and me. He suggests that—if you should happen to feel like it—you might come to America in a year or so and woo me decently. Brett!’

  He had burst into a fit of laughter. ‘And you let him make you so angry? My poor darling, where’s your sense of humour? He hadn’t, I take it, consulted your aunt? I can hardly see her lending herself to such a scheme.’

  ‘No. I’m taking my affairs away from him, Brett.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that.’ His fingers found her ribs in something between a pinch and a caress. ‘Such a palaver. We’ve enough to do as it is, love.’ He turned to Biddock. ‘The Duchess will forgive you, this once, Biddock. See to the cancelling of the passages, and explain that it was your mistake. Then come back to me, here. We’ve a great deal to attend to.’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace. Thank you, Your Grace.’ It was hard to tell which of them he was addressing.

  ‘You don’t mind my taking the law into my own hands?’ Brett turned to her smiling, as Biddock left the room.

  ‘Do you know, I find I rather like it. Do you think I’m going to dwindle into a dependent “yes-my-love” wife?’

  ‘I very much doubt it.’ He took her in his arms. ‘Alone at last!’

  ‘Oh no we’re not,’ said Phyllida crossly. ‘What is it, Jenny?’

  ‘The Philip!’ Jenny threw open the shutters. ‘Look! I’d know her anywhere.’

  ‘And Alex handling her,’ Phyllida agreed. ‘Lord! Look at that for a landing.’

  ‘Damned risky,’ said Brett, ‘like all his behaviour. But you have to give him credit for courage. Besides, he provides us with an admirable excuse to leave this appalling party. If I have to endure five mintutes’ more conversation with Mrs. Froxe I shall say something to her we’ll both regret.’

  Jenny could not help laughing. ‘Oh. B, you horror, and when you think how you pined over her!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Phyllida. ‘How glad I am I didn’t accept that place on the packet. I’m not going to give you the chance to forget me, love.’

  ‘You’re right about that. But, come, we don’t want Alex getting to the Helena before we do. You’ve got Peter safely locked up, I trust?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jenny, ‘in your cabin. I don’t know where you and Phyllida are going to sleep, B.’

  * * *

  There was only time for the briefest exchange of news before they were boarding the Helena, to an enthusiastic welcome, and the sight of the Philip’s boat, rapidly approaching.

  ‘You’ll let me handle this?’ Brett asked Phyllida.

  ‘Gladly.’ She was aware of Jenny’s amused eye on her. Had she used to be so self-willed? ‘But you won’t be hard on Peter?’

  ‘I propose to be very good to Peter. I hope. But I think we’d best see Alex first, if you don’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not.’ She was not even sure that she wanted to see her brother. What in the world, after all that had happened, could they say to each other?

  Alex, on the other hand, climbing lightly on board, showed no sense of shame what
ever, and that was really rather a relief. He greeted them all, just as usual, with his ravishing smile, and went on to congratulate Brett and Phyllida on a happy escape. ‘And on your marriage?’ He made it just a question.

  ‘You are well informed. Yes. Father Gennaios married us.’ Brett said it, deliberately, as a challenge.

  ‘So I heard. And you led his people on a raid of my stores! If I’d not been so pleased with Oenone otherwise, I’d have been angry with her about that.’

  ‘She did not know I had seen them,’ said Brett. ‘She took the greatest possible care to prevent it. I’m glad you recognise the debt you owe her. She saved you from a very difficult situation.’

  Alex threw back his head and laughed. ‘Yes, as things have turned out, I really think she did. A girl in a thousand, And’—he turned to Phyllida—‘you intend to keep your word to her, kyria?’

  ‘My wife always keeps her word.’ For the first time, Brett allowed anger to show. ‘You are come, I take it, to collect Oenone’s dowry. I warn you, I am going to see it tied up for her and her children. That’s why we need Mr. Biddock, love,’ He turned to explain to Phyllida. ‘He will do what we tell him, without asking questions. But there’s one other condition I am going to make?’

  ‘Oh?’ Alex’s bright eye was suspicious now.

  ‘Yes. We’ve got Peter Vannick shut up in my cabin, which I happen to want for myself and my wife. I think you had better take him home with you. By his behaviour he’s much more a Greek than an American. You agree, Phyl?’

  She suppressed a pang. But, almost certainly, Brett was right. ‘If he does, yes.’

  ‘Then we had better have him up here. Barlow, would you?’

  * * *

  Peter looked so haggard that Phyllida forgot everything in pity for him. ‘Oh, Peter!’ For a moment he was her little brother again.

  ‘Don’t “oh Peter” me!’ He rejected her advance angrily. ‘It’s your fault; all of this. If you’d not persuaded our father to make that unjust will none of it would have happened.’

  ‘That settles it,’ said Brett. ‘I’ve two things to break to you, Mr. Vannick. One is that your sister has promised your half of her fortune to Alex’s wife, in exchange for our freedom. So much for your dreams of wealth.’