Chapter 51
Canon Petrie had been sorry they had not brought the kittens with them for their visit but otherwise did not seem terribly put out by their request for an impromptu wedding ceremony.
“We have discussed the matter previously, of course?” he said, peering at Gervaise over the top of his spectacles.
“And gone over the prerequisites,” he said vaguely.
“Indeed,” Gervaise lied smoothly. “When we dined together.”
“We dined together several times, if you recall,” Caroline added with conviction.
The faint doubt on the old clergyman’s face instantly disappeared. “Of course, of course,” he said benignly. “I remember it fondly. Er…cats,” he said with the effort of recall. “And the—um—landscape of southern France, if I remember correctly.”
He beamed at Caroline, seeming not to notice her disheveled appearance, and she relaxed, returning his smile. “And for your witnesses?” he asked, his befuddled gaze traveling over Reg as if he was trying to remember why such a large man stood in his threadbare study.
“Reginald here will stand up for us,” Caroline answered promptly. “And we thought your housekeeper would suffice for the second.”
“Mrs. Chelmsley?” he said with some surprise. “You are acquainted? Well, she does enjoy a wedding, you are quite right.”
Twenty minutes later they stood in the chancel of St. Catherine’s and were pronounced man and wife. Gervaise really was taking it all very well, she reflected with relief as he slid a gold band over her knuckle. Caroline had not even thought about rings.
Was it one of his? But no, it fit her perfectly and to her surprise slid into place next to a glinting emerald and an array of diamonds on her third finger.
When had that appeared there? Her startled gaze flew to meet Gervaise’s, and he gave her a reassuring smile.
Caroline felt the overwhelming impulse to sag with relief against him, but they were not yet safely out of danger.
This next part was not going to be pleasant. She was going to have to explain they were now headed for a police station where she was going to uncover a horrid mess of scandal and murder which would drag his family name, the name she now bore, through the mud.
She just hoped that eventually he would forgive her.
Suppressing a shudder, she stiffened her spine.
He would no doubt be angry that she had so selfishly secured him for a husband before first acquainting him with the horrible facts.
She only hoped that her newfound wealth would soften the blow of his finding himself married into a murderess’s family.
Her heart quailed; his uncle, no doubt, would be appalled.
She only hoped Uncle George would not finally cut Gervaise off as he had been threatening to do now for months, but after all, Gervaise now had a rich wife to support him instead of a stuffy uncle.
Perhaps that would make up for it, at least partially.
The truth was that she had been monstrously self-centered by not confessing all before asking Gervaise to marry her.
She had not allowed him to make an informed choice.
The honorable thing would have been to give him the chance to withdraw and preserve himself from calumny, but Caroline had not done that.
No, instead she had concealed and deceived to get what she wanted.
And she wanted Gervaise. The idea of losing him felt unbearable.
She simply could not do it. And, deep down, if she was brutally honest, she could not regret her decision to entrap him.
Returning to Benham with Edgar, even without Mama there, would be intolerable at this point.
She wanted her own family, Gervaise and the cats.
She wanted her own friends around her, Effie and Vi and Reg, not the likes of the Rylands or the Pebmarshes, perish the thought!
And she would have them, she vowed. She would wear Gervaise down.
She would shower him with luxuries and affection until he forgave her perfidy and was reconciled to his fate by her side.
She would suffer justifiable resentment with patience and understanding.
She would wait for him to get over his scruples and then, when he finally forgave her, she would make him happy.
She did not allow herself to doubt even for a minute that he would forgive her eventually.
The alternative was just too awful to contemplate.
Besides, she just knew she could make him happy, if he would only let her.
If he only gave her a chance to make up for her deceit and her infamous family connection.
She swallowed down the lump in her throat.
His friends might throw him off, his acquaintances shun him in the street, but if it grew too unbearable, they could simply move to the Continent, could they not?
Her money at least could ease their path in that respect, if nothing else.
As though sensing her inner turmoil, Gervaise squeezed her hand and started shepherding her out of the church and into the vestibule where they took their leave of Canon Petrie and Mrs. Chelmsley.
“I hope you will dine with my wife and I in the coming month,” Gervaise said grandly, passing another of his calling cards to Canon Petrie.
“Of course, I would be delighted, delighted.” The old man beamed, promptly passing the card to his housekeeper without even glancing at it. Mrs. Chelmsley, who had seemed decidedly underwhelmed by the brief, business-like ceremony, gave a stifled gasp as she read it through twice under her breath.
“Shall I have refreshments for the company brought into your study, Reverend?” she blurted, breathing noisily. Canon Petrie looked surprised by the gracious offer as though his housekeeper was not usually so welcoming. “There’s some seed cake left, though it might be a bit stale…”
He turned to Gervaise, who politely declined. “Thank you, but no. I will send an invitation to you in the coming week,” he promised. “And if convenient, a carriage to collect you.”
Canon Petrie’s face brightened. “Most kind…most kind,” he replied, clearly having forgotten Gervaise’s name and title already.
“Milord!” Mrs. Chelmsley hissed in his ear.
“Quite. Er…quite. I look forward to meeting again with Master Remus and Master Romulus,” he said fondly, having no trouble whatsoever remembering the names of the cats.
“I’ll hail a carriage,” Reg said gruffly as they made their way out to the street. “Where are we bound? Back to The Citadel?” He sent a querying glance to Caroline, and she felt a momentary weakness. Clearly, Reg felt no overwhelming need to approach the law over what had occurred earlier.
The sudden temptation to feign ignorance over the whole debacle filled Caroline’s head and had her hands shaking.
After all, a little voice whispered in her ear, would the authorities even be able to trace that shabby woman stricken down in a London street to the respectable Angela Needham who lay on her sickbed in Cornwall?
Perhaps finding her missing on his return, Edgar would simply assume she had wandered out sick and confused and fallen off a cliff and been lost in the sea? That way, no one would ever have to know the awful truth…
Perhaps Gervaise need not suffer the devastating loss to his reputation? Edgar and Diana need not find themselves ostracized and shunned by their neighbors. Caroline wavered for a moment undecided.
Then she remembered Sophy. Poor, murdered Sophy, buried somewhere in an unmarked grave, unmourned, her family never knowing what had become of her.
She simply could not do it. Sophy’s untimely death demanded justice.
Goring and Sidney Price could not go unpunished for their role in the murderous proceedings.
Drawing herself up, she said aloud, “We must now make our way to Scotland Yard without delay.”