Chapter Twenty One
Over the decades, Northfield had hosted dozens of weddings.
The first Martin remembered was his own to Lolly thirty-six years ago.
He could still recall the dizzying glory of holding her hands, the heady relief of finding a partner to share his lot in life, the smell of lilacs in the air as they vowed to usher in a new era for Northfield and everyone who lived there.
Since then, he had celebrated the marriages of farmhands, carpenters, gardeners, housemaids, butlers, weavers, and three of his children. Martin had walked brides to the dais, stood up with grooms, made speeches on the couple’s merits, retired to his suite to admire the revelry from afar.
This was the first wedding since the fire.
It was the first celebration of any kind without the great house.
It turned out they had never needed the Hall for their celebrations.
Instead of readying himself in the calm of his private sitting room, Martin dressed at the Chows’ cottage, which he had been calling home these past four months.
He waited for the festivities to begin with Benjamin and Nate in the brewery, listening to his sons banter as his heart beat fast in anticipation of the event.
Martha, wonderful Martha, waited nearby in the dining hall, and everyone else gathered on the ghostly outline of what had once been the great house.
In the summer, construction would begin on new buildings, which would include a modest house for the family and a community hall to provide a library, classrooms, reading rooms, and more.
For the moment, the old footprint of the Hall blurred with wedding decorations.
The dais stood on the scarred ground of the garden drawing room.
The spectators—Martin’s family, Martha’s niece, everyone from Northfield, almost all of Thatcham, even a few dignified visitors from London—congregated where previously the corridor had connected the rooms, and benches and tables awaited their feast on the earth where once Martin’s study and foyer and dining rooms had stood.
The air began to buzz with conversation as the crowd awaited the ceremony. Martin resisted the urge to loosen his cravat. He was anxious, not about marrying Martha, but about their duty to this crowd afterward.
The ceremony took place on the dais erected by the Chow family.
Mr. Sebright conducted the vows without any invectives, thanks to Martin’s generous purchase of new pews for the parish church.
Martha, wearing a simple green gown to match the springtime buds, beamed at Martin as she said her vows.
As for him, he had to focus on the feel of her lace gloves that didn’t quite reach her fingertips, or else he would have teared up as he promised to cherish her for as long as they both should live.
And then they were married. Husband and wife, in a sacred union, never to be torn asunder.
The crowd cheered, and Martin kissed Martha on the lips, forgetting for once his obligation to decorum.
And then it was time for a Northfield feast: steamed buns, hand pies, and fried fish. Every person helped themselves from the buffet, and they sat not according to a seating chart but according to affinity.
Martin and Martha took a table in the center, just about where the foyer staircase used to stand.
His children quickly filled in around him: Nate and Amy to his left, Sophia and John across the bench, beside them Caroline and Eddie and two-month-old Thomas Paine Chow.
One table over, Ellen and Max and their five children occupied a bench while Benjamin and Lydia and their three children sat opposite.
Martha’s niece, Georgina, and her brood sat nearby, too. As one of the children exclaimed about the food, Martha leaned in to murmur, “I’m so happy that it is beginning to feel wicked.”
Martin wrapped his arm around her waist, which was restrained considering he wanted to tackle her to the ground and cover her in kisses. “I’ll show you wickedness, madam, just you wait.”
“I grow impatient,” she teased back. Her words were hardly louder than a breath, but Sophia interrupted:
“If you two are going to be so indecent, John and I will be, too.” She made as if to climb onto her husband’s lap—and John made as if to permit it.
“You’ll wake the baby!” Caroline protested, poking her sister back onto the bench.
They were saved from further hijinks by Mr. Chow climbing the dais to make a toast. “Lord Preston, there is one thing that unites almost everyone here. In our hour of need, you welcomed us into your home. For too many years, you stood alone between us and the harsh winds of the wider world. Our hearts are gladdened to see you with a new lady love. May you and Lady Preston find great happiness together!”
Martha blushed beautifully at her new title. Martin couldn’t help but press a kiss to her cheek, as if to pin that blush in place.
The Widow Croft took the dais next. “I am here to speak for both myself and my sweet, lately departed Mr. Maulvi. For his part, Mr. Maulvi considered Lord Preston his dearest friend in the world. I believe that he had an inkling of what was in Lord Preston’s heart towards the new Lady Preston, and I know that from wherever he is now, he blesses this marriage.
For my part, those of us from Thatcham can tell you there is no greater woman than Lady Preston.
When you need help, she is there. No wonder she and his lordship have found a love match when their hearts are made from the same mold.
May you have health and happiness for many years to come! ”
Martin and Martha sipped their elder wine in response to the hearty cheer this earned. He looked around the tables, wondering how everyone would react when they discovered what he and Martha had planned for them.
Perhaps Martha could read his mind: she leaned in to ask, “Would you like to announce your news now?”
They had debated whether to make the announcement on their wedding day or wait until the spring planting was done. After consulting with his children, however, Martin and Martha had agreed it was best to do it while everyone was gathered—and already feeling happy about the future.
Before Martin could rise from his seat, however, Benjamin and Caroline took the stage.
“We would like to say a few words on behalf of our family,” Benjamin began, his practiced voice booming across the crowd.
“I must admit, when Papa first confessed to us his intentions towards our new stepmother, I was shocked. I forgot my father is also a man who needs—and deserves—a partner in life, just like anyone else. However, this confession came in the wake of the fire that claimed Northfield Hall, which showed me the great beauty of how in our worst moments, we can also see more clearly what truly matters to us. For my father, that is having the woman he loves by his side.”
Caroline added: “Papa, we would like you to know that we five—and your nine grandchildren—love you with all of our hearts. You are our bulwark, and when we have quarreled, it is only because we always assumed you were more god than man. I am so glad that you have found happiness with the new Lady Preston. When I see you together, I see a fuller version of you. I am proud to be your daughter, and I am proud to call the new Lady Preston my stepmother.”
As everyone around him raised their glasses in cheers, Martin found himself frozen, paralyzed by the relief he felt to hear those words from Caroline.
Martha whispered in his ear, “It’s true, you know. She is proud to be your daughter.”
“She is even more proud to call you her stepmother,” he replied, stealing Martha’s fingertips for a kiss. “Will you come with me to make our announcement?”
She nodded, excitement glowing in her eyes. “Let me say the part about Caroline.”
Together, they walked to the dais. From the tables came cheers and a few bawdy jokes. Martin acknowledged it all with a wave; Martha smiled shyly at the group of two hundred or so people gathered before them.
She surprised him by speaking first. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate with us. I did not know what kind of reception to expect when Lord Preston did me the great honor of proposing marriage, and I am truly humbled to know that we are all part of the same community forever after.”
This was met with a cheer, and several people tipped back their glasses in approval.
“It is important to know that what my husband—” Martha emphasized the word by turning to grin at Martin “—is about to announce comes from years of great ruminations. I may have suggested some practicalities, but you must trust that any changes come from his wisdom and vision of a Northfield that continues to be a haven for all.”
Martin wouldn’t have phrased it so ominously. A pall descended as everyone—even his children, who already knew what he would say—tensed. Squeezing Martha’s hand, Martin took up his part of the speech.
“For a long time now, I have pondered how to ensure that the legacy of Northfield can sustain every newcomer who needs our welcome and every family that wants to remain here for generations. It is a question of money as well as natural resources, and balancing the demands of the here and now versus the greater good. Traditionally, these decisions have landed on the shoulders of the Baron Ashforth, whoever he may be. However, it is time for that tradition, like many others we have changed, to transform.”