Chapter 18 #2
“I was so worried you would never reach this day.” Mama was tearing up again.
Her handkerchief had seen more use this morning than it had in its entire existence.
“I know you think I was too hard on you, but all I ever wanted was to see you happy, poppet. I knew the right man was out there for you somewhere, if only you let yourself believe it.”
How could her mother want to see her married this badly when she knew firsthand that their vows didn’t mean anything? It didn’t make any sense. Hannah might find herself abandoned or miserable within a few years, just like her parents.
But you don’t have to worry about that, she reminded herself. Mr. Corbyn had offered terms that would keep her independent. Safe. If Hannah was never a true wife to him, she would never risk her heart. The thought made her feel a little better.
“We should go,” Hannah said. She didn’t like to see Mama making such a fuss. “Are Jane and Eli ready?”
“Wait. There are some things I should tell you, now that you’re going to be a married woman.”
“What sort of things?”
“About your wedding night, I mean.” Mama spoke rather quickly, as if rushing to get it over with.
Oh no. Hannah hadn’t been expecting this, though she supposed she probably should have.
“Once you and Mr. Corbyn are married,” her mother continued, staring pointedly at a spot on the wall somewhere past Hannah’s left shoulder, “he will want to visit your bed. Probably quite often at first, but don’t worry, it will be less frequent as time goes on.
It will hurt less if you try to think of something else until it’s over.
You’ll need to let him do what he likes to you if you want to have a child. ”
“Mama, I know where babies come from!” Hannah blushed furiously.
“Oh. Well, good.” Her mother smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. “Do you…er, have any questions about all that?”
Hannah’s most pressing question was: How do I escape this conversation before I die of embarrassment?
But wait. If she didn’t say anything, whom else could she ask?
Now that she thought of it, Mr. Corbyn hadn’t actually promised that he wouldn’t visit her bed.
He’d said no children, but there were other ways to avoid children, weren’t there?
She wished she’d thought to clarify all of this before her wedding day. These were very important details!
“Is there some way to make sure I don’t have a child?”
“Oh.” In her surprise, Mama accidentally made eye contact.
“Well, if you rinse yourself out with vinegar afterward, that should help. Or if you find that your courses don’t come when they should, you might ask the apothecary for some pennyroyal.
But you won’t need to worry about that until later, poppet. You must want one or two first?”
Oh! Was that what Annabelle had meant about herbal remedies? Her cryptic hints suddenly made sense. Good. Hannah could ask her for advice later.
“I don’t think so,” Hannah replied.
Mama looked crestfallen, but added hopefully, “You might change your mind, as you did about marriage. Give it some time.”
They went downstairs together to find the others waiting. Though Papa had grumbled about the match all week and threatened to ride back to Devon a half-dozen times, he was still here for her wedding day. No matter how he might complain, he did care about her. That brought Hannah comfort.
At least until he whispered, “It’s not too late to change your mind,” when he handed her into the carriage.
Hannah landed on the seat with a thud. Of course it was too late.
Mr. Corbyn would already be at the church waiting for them by now.
Mama had planned a wedding breakfast for all their friends at Jane’s town house afterward, and she’d stayed up half the night arranging the decorations.
How could Hannah possibly change her mind?
She and Mr. Corbyn had an understanding. Never mind that the terms were less certain than she might have liked. Whatever her doubts about marriage, Hannah didn’t doubt that he would keep his word. This was still the best way to secure her independence.
She murmured some platitudes to her father as the carriage rolled away, and soon they arrived at the church.
They were a small party. Hannah’s parents, Jane, Eli, and Annabelle—who, as her closest unmarried friend in town, had kindly agreed to be her bridesmaid despite her low opinion of weddings in general.
Corbyn’s younger brother stood as his groomsman, while his cousin sat with the guests.
The walk from the vestry to the altar seemed to take a year, as if time had slowed in accordance with Hannah’s trepidation.
Though her father made no further attempt to dissuade her from her choice, his disapproval settled into his bones as he led her down the aisle, as palpable as a brick wall between them.
It was a relief when he finally deposited her beside Mr. Corbyn at the altar.
Her groom had worn the blue coat that Hannah liked best, with light gray trousers and a white silk waistcoat.
He looked exceptionally handsome, though this was hardly anything new.
It was his eyes that were different this morning.
They radiated steady reassurance that helped her to forget the awkwardness of her father’s sour mood.
Something passed between them, some unspoken sentiment that eased Hannah’s fears.
He looked at her as though she were just as beautiful as he was.
Had there really been a time when she’d found Corbyn cold?
Blue seemed the warmest color in the world.
Hannah drew a deep breath. She could do this.
The priest began his “Dearly beloved…” innocently enough, but his speech took a more solemn turn when he reached the part about matrimony being an honorable estate, not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, considering the causes for which is was ordained: the procreation of children and the mutual society and comfort of the husband and wife.
Must he include all of that? It wasn’t really any of the priest’s business if Hannah lived with her husband or not, so long as she wasn’t entertaining other lovers!
But the solemnity of the occasion made her feel less certain of her intentions.
It was one thing to lie to her mother in the office of a gambling club or Jane’s dining room.
It was quite another to lie in a solemn vow before the church altar with everyone she cared about looking on.
When they reached the part inviting anyone in the crowd to speak if they knew of an impediment to the marriage, Hannah held her breath. She could practically feel her father’s thoughts churning above their heads like a storm cloud. But he held his tongue, and the priest continued on.
“Silas Francis Corbyn, 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, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live? ”
Corbyn’s vow was as firm and steady as his eyes. “I will.”
He really means it. She’d seen Corbyn lie for her before, though he’d never been particularly good at it.
He hadn’t meant it when he’d declared his love on Jane’s front lawn, nor when he’d promised Mama he would court her like a proper gentleman that night at supper.
But no one could deny the conviction in his voice now.
The promise was impossible. To forsake all others for as long as they lived? Even if Hannah decided to live on her own and never see him again? The promise was far too great to equal the three hundred pounds she’d promised him—it encompassed an entire lifetime.
The priest seemed to see right through Hannah as he continued, “Hannah Elizabeth Williams, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?
Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live? ”
You’ve come this far. Don’t back down now.
“I will.” Hannah hoped she didn’t sound as uncertain as she felt.
She’d never been particularly good at obeying and serving, but if she found any meaning in the words, it was in the part to keep only unto him.
From their first meeting, Corbyn had shown her an understanding and kindness that she’d never found in another man.
If she’d never met him, there would have been no one else for her. He was an exception.
They finished their vows, and Corbyn placed the wedding band upon Hannah’s finger, holding her hands steady when they trembled. Though his kiss before the assembled guests was chaste and proper, it summoned a wave of emotion from her heart.
After the priest had prayed over them, Hannah and Corbyn returned to the vestry to sign the certificate with her parents and their witnesses. As she wrote her maiden name for the last time, Hannah was struck by the finality of the act.
There was no going back now. Her course was set.