She heard the words as she opened the door but did not deign to answer. Kitty thought it victory enough that she did not hurl his new Sèvres vase at him as she left.
That night, Kitty asked for soup in her room, claiming fatigue from a long journey. Mary and Erasmus would know it for a lie, but Mary would prefer it all the same. Kitty sat in the comfortable chair with the small embroidered footrest before the fire. It was a nice room—the same one she had grown up in—for even though Erasmus could have bought a larger residence, he must have possessed a degree of nostalgia. Kitty most certainly did, and she liked the calming influence her spacious and familiar room brought her.
She sighed. Erasmus’s words had already needled their way into her reason. Her rage had died down to resignation. This was not her room—not really. Her brother had reminded her of that, and that nothing she possessed was her own. If she married, she would not be much better off. She would become her husband’s possession instead of her brother’s, and Lord Hayworth was an unknown entity. Kitty could not be certain if he would treat her with any sort of kindness, or if she would spend the rest of her life in a miserable battle of wills.
She would move away and no longer see her friends. Not that she had all that many friends or saw them with any sort of frequency—her niece and nephews and brother took up all her time. But she would be isolated on an estate, in a village unknown to her, and she would likely be expected to travel to London and meet a Society far above her touch. She would constantly feel herself at a disadvantage.
Kitty pulled up her bare feet on the chair and tucked them under her nightdress against the chill. She had taken down her hair for the night, and she tugged at the thick red braid that fell over her shoulder. The flames flickered in the chimney, and she stared at them without blinking until the heat forced her to close her eyes. She leaned her head back against the chair.
There was some truth in what Erasmus had said. Yes, he had arranged this marriage to suit himself because it would help his affairs to say he had family connections to a viscount. He was much like their father and thought about little other than what would puff up his consequence. That said, he would have looked into this Lord Hayworth thoroughly because he would not want to be caught short if the man proved to be an embarrassment. If she could not trust Erasmus to do well by her for her own sake, she could trust him to do well by her for his.
If Kitty decided to be a governess, she would have an employer to whom she would be beholden. If she married Lord Hayworth, she would be mistress of the estate. Her future husband might ignore her, or even despise her, but he would not easily be rid of her like unwanted chattel, much as her brother had just done.
She had wished to marry for love, but she already knew she would not turn down her brother’s proposal. No! Not proposal. His high-handed, selfish, coerced arrangement that he had contracted with a man entirely unknown to her and without consulting her. She would accept it and start a new life because, really—what choice did she have, after all?
3
The wedding was held in the second week of November, and Kitty awoke at an early hour, her throat dry at the thought of the day’s events. Though she had spent the last four days in Erasmus’s rented house on Laura Place in Bath, the looming change in her circumstances still felt more like a dream than reality. It did not help that she had yet to meet her betrothed, who had sent his regrets for being kept away by pressing matters and would only arrive in Bath in time for the ceremony. Sounds of the maid filling the bath in the adjoining room reached her ears, and Kitty sat up in bed.
“I will bring your chocolate, miss,” the maid said, popping her head into the bedroom. Kitty nodded her assent.
In the end, the service had not been necessary. It was not possible to swallow more than one mouthful of the thick chocolate, and by the time Kitty stood by the bathtub and trailed her hands through the warm scented water, she was already sick with apprehension. For the past weeks, Erasmus had been bursting with satisfaction at the match he had arranged. Lord Hayworth was still connected to the parish in Bath through the Earl of Midlington, and Kitty and Lord Hayworth would be married at Bath Abbey, a fact which gratified Erasmus. He was sure to bring it up in conversation with his fellow merchants at the slightest opportunity.
She slipped into the hot water and allowed the maid to comb her thick hair, while she attempted to relax. Kitty had been given a glimpse of her betrothed from a miniature formally presented to her with the viscount’s compliments by his man of business. It was the only visit Mr. Carter had made to Royal York Crescent after Kitty learned of her fate. Lord Hayworth appeared not to be a bad-looking man—certainly not handsome enough for the gesture to have sprung from vanity. Kitty had to admit the gift of his miniature was thoughtful, but the portrait would not show her what his character was like. And that, after all, was what really mattered in the long view.
In silence, the maid lifted Kitty’s hair while she dried herself with a towel and began to dress. The maid then tied Kitty’s stays and had her sit to finish her coiffure. Fanny would be remaining in Erasmus’s employ, leaving Kitty no maid to accompany her to her new household, but Mary assured her she would have her own household of servants to command.
Kitty watched Fanny in the reflection as the maid papered Kitty’s hair into curls in the front and formed four coils of hair in the back, which she interlaced and pinned up. She set ringlets that fell on either side of Kitty’s face and finished the coiffure by tucking a string of white pearls and green silk flowers into the chignon, circling the pearls and flowers around her head to form a dainty crown in front.
It did not matter that Kitty did not wish to marry; she would not allow herself to look less than her best and perhaps give her betrothed’s family and its elevated circles cause to despise her. She’d had a new dress sewn of her own choosing. Done in an ivory silk brocade with Saxon green trim, the simple skirt fell from the tight bodice and high waist, and the small embroidered puffed sleeves off the shoulders had light muslin fabric extending to her wrists to ward against the autumn chill. Her cloak was of the latest fashion, and she would wear it until they arrived at the Abbey.
She descended the unfamiliar staircase with reluctant steps to an echoing corridor at the bottom. The absence of a mother to advise her, or a loving father to give her away was a loss she felt acutely. Erasmus could not fill such a role in any kind of satisfactory way. She did not have a very great recollection of her mother, and her father could never have been described as loving. Still, it was times like this that she wished … Kitty rested her hand on the bannister post, her thoughts taking a gloomy turn that she hastened to shrug off. She stood in the corridor, listening to sounds from different parts of the house, unsure of what to do. Samuel appeared from the door leading to the small library.
“Kitty!” His eyes lit up. “I was hoping to see you. I wanted to go to your room, but Mary said you could not be bothered. She said you needed to dress for your wedding.”
Of course Mary had not come to see how Kitty was faring. “Mary was right,” she replied. “But I am happy to talk to you now. What did you wish to see me about?”
Samuel examined her appearance. His brow creased, and he didn’t speak for a moment, so Kitty sat on the small bench in the corridor and patted the seat next to her. Samuel sat and swung his foot back-and-forth underneath the bench, and she clasped her hands on her lap, waiting for him to speak.
“Kitty, must you go?” he asked at last.
She looked straight ahead and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes, I must. But I shall miss you very much.”
Samuel began tapping his heel on the leg of the bench. “It's just … Mary doesn't like me very much. I know she doesn't. And Erasmus is not interested in me. You’re the only person who cares about me, and now you're leaving.”
Kitty gulped and took a deep breath. She did not want tears to drop and stain her silk dress. This was so unfair, and she hated that having no choice in her own future meant
that her little brother had no choice in his. Erasmus had been firm on this point. Lord Hayworth had made arrangements for a wife and would have no wish for a troublesome boy to hang about. Besides, he had said, Mary does a fine job of raising him as one of her own.
Kitty put one arm around Samuel. “It is most unfair. I would like very much to remain with you, but I cannot. And you are going to Harrow next year.” She adopted a bracing tone. “I know you will make friends there and have a great many adventures.”
“But it is a whole nine months away. And I don't know anyone at Harrow. What if they laugh at me there?” Samuel turned a freckled face up to her. He was missing two of his teeth. “What if they mock me because I don't come from the same kind of family?”
Kitty squeezed Samuel closer. “No one will laugh at you, Sam. Do not worry about that. You have been raised well just as they were—Erasmus saw to that. And those boys will be as nervous as you are.” She lifted her eyes and stared at the wooden rails of the bannister, breathing in. Having a viscount for a brother-in-law would change everything. Samuel would be related to a lord.
Sounds of Erasmus and Mary raising their voices in argument from the drawing room, and the children exiting the rooms upstairs with their nurse, interrupted Kitty’s speech, so she gave Samuel a kiss on his cheek and hugged him tightly. “Promise me you will be good—and gracious to your cousins. They do look up to you after all.”
Mary came into the corridor with a look of irritation. Erasmus followed behind and stopped short when he saw Kitty. “Good. Very good. You look a picture, and I’m sure Lord Hayworth will be very pleased. Doesn't she look fine, Mary?”
Mary glanced at her before bending down to tuck the small cloak around baby William more securely. “Very fine, I am sure. Jemima, hurry and help Edward and Helen into their cloaks, or we shall be late.”
The walk to Bath Abbey was short, which was why Erasmus had chosen the location. The few minutes were not ample time to prepare Kitty for what was before her, and the dread only increased as their group neared its destination. At the church, Kitty followed Erasmus numbly through the wooden doors into the immense building with its stone arches and echoing walls. They walked down the long aisle of the nave with just their footsteps to break the silence, and it was only when they reached the front, and her brother moved to the side, that Kitty saw for the first time her future husband.
Lord Hayworth was flanked by his parents, if their age and features were an accurate indication. There was another younger gentleman who was likely in place to serve as witness. Nobody else was in attendance, but why should there be anyone? Why should there be a large wedding party when he was marrying such a common creature as herself?
Kitty avoided the gaze of her betrothed as she followed her brother to the pews where he and Mary would be sitting. She allowed him to help her off with her winter cloak and turned at last to glance at her future husband. Erasmus nudged her to go stand at his side; she obeyed but could not summon a smile. For a brief moment, she looked at Lord Hayworth soberly then turned to face the vicar, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
Phineas saw his soon-to-be wife for the first time when Stokes stepped to the side, and one look was enough to strike him straight through the gut. He swallowed convulsively as if that could clear the heartbeat he could suddenly hear in his ears. His palms started to sweat in his gloves as his eyes followed her to the pew. She had looked regal enough when she walked in, shrouded in a brown cloak—her coloring harmonious with the wood pews and pulpit of the vast church, and her hair catching the light that shone through the stained glass windows and left pretty-colored patterns on the stone floor. But when she removed her cloak and faced him arrayed in an ivory and green dress, her skin radiant, her brown eyes warm, and her hair a mix of red and gold, Phineas’s breath left him. He had expected to make do with whatever wife this agreement brought him. He had not expected to contract an alliance with a woman who would be the envy of every man in the ton. She was incomparable. Miss Stokes met his gaze, her look shrouding any feelings, and her eyes flitted away. She did not smile.
If she had been a member of the ton, she would not have looked twice his way, his title notwithstanding—of that he was sure. He supposed he was not dashing enough to tempt the women on the hunt for a matrimonial prize. An arranged marriage of his own choosing removed all the disagreeable parts of courting, for it assured he would not suffer rejection. However, Phineas had never in his life been more nervous than he was now. He was about to make an irrevocable change to his situation and his comfort. He would be sharing his life and concerns with someone else now, and her happiness would be his responsibility. He thought the arrangement would benefit them both, but how could he convey all this to his future wife?
The vicar motioned them forward. “Who is to be married today?”
With a glance at Stokes, Phineas turned to the vicar. “Phineas Stropford, the Viscount Hayworth, heir to the Earl of Midlington.”
Stokes nudged his sister a step closer, and she stood at Phineas's side with Stokes at her left. “My sister, Miss Katherine Stokes,” he said.
The vicar continued. “Do you have the certificate of banns from the curate of your parish, Mr. Stokes?” When the vicar had received the certificate from Stokes and examined it, he turned to Phineas. “Lord Hayworth, do you consent to this marriage?”
Phineas did not dare look at his betrothed. He could hear his parents shifting behind him, sensing their displeasure from where he stood. “I do.”
“And you, Miss Katherine Stokes, do you consent to this marriage of your full volition?”
She was silent long enough that Phineas glanced at her, tendrils of alarm creeping up his spine. What if one look at him was enough for her to say no? What if Phineas was made to look a fool in front of his parents and cousin who served as witness? What if he was back to having to obey his father’s beck and call to pull Midlington estate into order? It did not bear thinking of. Miss Stokes glanced at her brother—tight-lipped and unfriendly. Had she really wanted to marry Phineas? He had no more time than for the thought to flit through his mind before she answered.
“I do.”
The vicar gave a somber nod and clasped his hands together. “Dearly beloved friends, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of his congregation, to join together this man and this woman, in holy matrimony, which is an honourable state, instituted of God in Paradise, in the time of man’s innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…”
The vicar read their brief ceremony, ending with the exchange of their vows, whose solemnity brought unexpected tears to Phineas’s eyes that he quickly blinked away.
“Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness, and in health? And forsaking all other, keep only to her, so long as you both shall live?”
Phineas cleared his throat. He would let Katherine—Kitty—know the depth of his promise to her. He answered in a ringing voice. “I will.”
His betrothed listened to her charge and answered, “I will,” in little more than a whisper. She had a gentle, pretty voice—one Phineas could happily wake up to each day. But he could discern no joy in her vow, no relief or acceptance in her tone, only resignation.
“Who giveth this woman to be married unto this man?” When Stokes answered, the vicar leaned over and whispered into Miss Stokes’s ear. Her eyes trained downward, and she tugged at her gloves until they came off. Phineas jumped to life and pulled off his gloves, handing them to his cousin. The vicar took the hand that hung limply at her side and set it on Phineas’s. His heart started pounding again at their first touch.
The vicar instructed Phineas to repeat the vows, which he did, attempting to catch Kitty’s gaze. “I, Phineas Stropford, take Miss Katherine Stokes to 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, til death us depart, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
Kitty repeated the same vows in a quiet voice with only one or two fleeting glances in his direction. The vicar said, “Now, we will have the rings.”
Phineas turned to his cousin, Bartholomew, who had agreed to be his witness for the sake of family, although they were not particularly close. Phineas had often wondered if it was because Bartholomew was jealous of his title and inheritance, or if it was simply a matter of not having spent enough time together. Or, perhaps, Phineas was not so very interesting after all.
“I have the rings.” Bartholomew extended the small box and the marriage fee that had been given him for safekeeping. Phineas handed the money and rings to the vicar, who set the marriage fee on the table and took the Holy Book in his hands. He gave Kitty the larger gold ring and Phineas the smaller and instructed them to lay their hands holding the rings on the Bible, which they did.
The man of God then instructed Phineas to place the ring on Kitty’s fourth finger. The moment had come. Phineas took her hand in his, feeling its softness as he slipped the ring on her slender finger. The vicar then instructed Phineas to repeat after him once again.
Phineas did not remember ever having heard a wedding vow spoken before. Or if he had, he did not remember it. There was something so intimate, so raw to the declaration he was to publicly state. “With this ring, I thee wed.” He gulped as the vicar said the next portion and desperately hoped his voice would not crack. “With my body, I thee worship. And with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
When it was Kitty’s turn, she took his hand in hers and slid the ring onto his finger. She quickly pulled her hand away, and the vicar had to remind her to join hands again as she said her vows. They were then pronounced man and wife.
His Disinclined Bride (Seasons of Change Book 7) Page 3