Chapter 32 Vow
Vow
I looked at him. “It’s the same as—”
“Yes, I haven’t forgotten.”
I watched him closely, understanding what kind of fight was going on in his head. I couldn’t bring myself to point out that not just the symbol but also its position beneath the cup handle had meaning.
Not only a wedding, but soon.
He set the dishes on the hearth and sank back down in the armchair. “While I’m not likely to assign a shape in a teacup more importance than your logical arguments and earnest pleas, it does begin to feel I’m holding out unreasonably.”
“Your hesitation is not unreasonable.”
When he looked at me, his eyes were full of the gentle gratitude that was so very Harker.
“I don’t know how we would even do it, Mina.
For a common license we would need to apply to the bishop at Exeter, some seventy miles from here .
. . which would be risky for a whole host of reasons.
It would be far better to wait out the weeks required for the banns to be read, but I don’t know that we can expect Goosevar to understand our modern way of doing things. ”
I felt a fizzing in my chest as I took in these details. This is becoming real. Yet I began to fear that bringing Harker to this point had been easy compared to what was coming.
“I don’t think we can,” I said. “But we could easily arrange a ceremony that matches what we’ve seen in the vision.”
The sudden flash of his eyes would have caused me to step back had I been on my feet. “That wouldn’t be a legal marriage.”
I nodded faintly. “We could make it legal once the banns were read.”
“And in the meantime,” he said, “you will have to remain here with me as if we are married. You know what people will say about that. They’ve always gossiped about me, but I don’t want that for you, Mina.”
Wringing a corner of the blanket, I replied, “I don’t know how it can be helped. My brother’s life . . . finding a way to prevent future killings—these things matter more than my reputation.”
His gaze fixed on me. “You could lose your job. You might not see Mrs. Moyle again.”
I hadn’t thought of this, but of course he was right. If I was ruined in the eyes of the village, I could hardly continue working in the tearoom. “Yes,” I said softly.
Thankfully he let his head tip against the top of the chairback, so he didn’t see my tears pooling. I wiped my eyes and held my breath.
After a few moments, he said, “When?”
I stifled a sob that was equal parts relief and regret. Clearing my throat, I replied, “As soon as possible. Tonight. If we mean to save Jack, we shouldn’t wait.”
He looked at me, worry lines etched in his fine skin. “What if he’s already dead, Mina? What if it’s a trick? We’ve no reason to think we can trust Goosevar.”
I nodded, looking down as tears again stung my eyes. “If he tricks us, then we needn’t be bound by the handfasting. We needn’t go through with the official wedding.”
My whole life would be upended either way.
Bound to Harker, or, with Jack gone, no way to support myself.
Even if what I made at The Magpie had been enough, I couldn’t live alone as an unmarried woman (a painful reminder of the sacrifice Jack had made for me).
With Mrs. Moyle’s help, I might be able to seek out my kin in Yorkshire.
But I’d lose what was left of my Roche family—Mrs. Moyle and Harker.
Harker rose from his chair and came to kneel before me, stopping my heart.
“I agree to this on one condition,” he said, resting a hand on the blanket beside me. “If Goosevar spares Jack, first thing in the morning, we go to the parish priest and tell him we wish to be married. When the banns are read Sunday, people will at least know we intend to do the honorable thing.”
I quietly let out my breath. “I agree. And we can go to The Magpie before it opens, so Mrs. Moyle may see that I am well. I can tell her then that I won’t be back.
If people aren’t seeing me going between here and the tearoom, we might avoid a scandal.
” I might lose my job, but if we were careful enough, I might keep my friend.
His eyes followed an escaped tear down my cheek. “I have many regrets, Mina. But none so great as you ever becoming involved with the Tregarricks.”
I lifted my chin. “I have regrets of my own, but meeting you is not one of them.”
The deep, dark purple of his eyes was soft as velvet. He raised his hand and brushed the tear track dry with his thumb, sending a shiver through me.
Then he got to his feet and held out his hand. “Come. I have a trunk full of old things upstairs. There may be something that will suit.”
At first I didn’t understand. Then it came to me—for the handfasting. Unless I wished to be wed in my shift or my bloodstained muslin, I would need a new dress.
I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and took his hand. It was warmer than usual.
Because he’s feeding.
My steps were stiff and slow on the stairs. “Where will we do this?” I asked.
“The trees in my vision reminded me of the woods below the chapel. Perhaps there.”
“Do you think he’ll know, or will we have to search him out?”
“I doubt much of anything happens on the estate without him knowing it.”
Upstairs, we crossed to the stained glass window and his narrow bed beneath. A heavy trunk rested at its foot.
“Here, sit down,” he said, and I sank on the edge of the mattress.
He opened the trunk with a creak of old hinges. It was full of clothing, and the scent of lavender lifted into the air as he dug through it.
“I’ve noticed that much of what you wear is an older style,” I said. “Do you prefer it?”
“It’s more that I very rarely leave the estate.
I’ve one suit of modern clothing, and I keep it clean and ready in case I do need to go out.
” He sat back on his heels, placing a stack of folded men’s things aside on the floor.
“But I suppose I do feel more myself in the older styles. Does it bother you?”
I shook my head. “It suits you. From studying the finer folk I serve in The Magpie, it seems to me that fashions—ladies’ especially—have become stiff and almost like cages.
But my own dresses are plain and pretty well worn.
” I felt my cheeks go pink. “I’ve almost saved enough money for something fresher in the New Year. ”
But I’d be living a different life by then.
I felt the first of what was sure to be many pangs for the life I’d give up.
A true marriage, with a husband in my bed and babes in my arms one day.
I’d never really longed for such things until now.
It was hard not to think about how that might be with Harker, were things different. What our own children might look like.
He drew out a russet-red gown and laid it over the edge of the lid. “I wish we had time for something that wasn’t handed down. But it’s in good condition still, and I think it might fit you.”
The gown’s bodice was long and straight, the waist neatly pleated all the way round, with a bit of padding at the hips to give the skirt lift. The sleeves, too, were straight, and elbow length. A sweet layer of lace peeked out at the neckline and sleeve ends.
“It’s lovely,” I said, fingering the fine fabric. I wondered if the gown had been his mother’s.
“I’m glad you like it. I’ll go back down while you dress, but call me if you need me.”
To my eye the gown was a little slim, so I stripped off both my shift and corset before putting it on.
The bodice fastened in front, and it gave me a squeeze, but I managed to close it all the way.
The gown’s owner had been a tall woman, and I’d have to keep it off the ground, but the extra length would cover my long feet and battered old shoes.
I knelt beside the trunk, carefully sorting through it until I found a muslin shawl. There was also a brush with an ivory handle, and I worked it through my tangled hair. I had no pins, so I would have to leave it loose.
I put away the brush and then unwound the bandage from my neck. It bore only a slight pink smear, and when I touched the wounds, they felt dry. I laid the wrapping aside with my shift and corset.
“May I come up?” Harker called from below.
“Yes, I’ve finished.” I glanced around for a looking glass, but none was in sight.
He joined me, and I watched him closely as his eyes moved over me, lingering a beat at my neckline, where the tight-fitting bodice had caused me to be higher, rounder, and more exposed than ever before.
“How beautiful you are, Mina.”
Heat spread from my cheeks to my chest.
He raised his hand, and I saw that Mum’s cross dangled from its ribbon, silver winking in the lamplight. “May I?” he asked.
I nodded and he came closer, moving behind me. I lifted my hair, and his breath against the back of my neck was warmer, like his skin.
“Be careful,” I whispered as he threaded the necklace around me.
I shivered as his fingers tickled the nape of my neck. Once the ribbon was tied, I turned, letting my hair fall. We were standing close, the small talisman between us.
“It dropped from your hand as I carried you inside,” he said.
“I promise to always wear it.”
A sad smile curved his lips. “The vows have begun.”
Excitement fluttered through me, despite fears, regrets, and strange circumstances.
Harker went to the shelves on the other side of the room, then took down a wine bottle and two goblets. He returned, handing me one goblet of wine and raising the other between us.
“To your health, Mina. And the success of our endeavors.”
“Yes,” I said, raising my glass to his. “May we find a way together.”
The wine was strong and full of dark, overripe fruit, like late-September blackberries.
There was also a cool, stony flavor that made me think of the holy well at Coldvreath.
Unused to wine, and weak from earlier, I knew if I finished my glass I would be stumbling down the stairs, so I took tiny sips.
His gaze fixed on me, and my heart somehow sensed what was coming. Raising my glass again, I let the wine fill my mouth this time, fruity and tart on my tongue yet dry as clay dust in my throat.
“Nothing is set,” he said. “Nothing has been said that can’t be unsaid. I need you to tell me, Mina. Is this really what you want?”