Chapter Ten
“All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages,” – As You Like It, William Shakespeare
One would never have guessed that one was attending a wedding breakfast. However, the atmosphere was, one might say, quite reserved.
Even though the food was exceedingly palpable, Ursula had no appetite at all. Mama and Papa had gone to great lengths to host a sumptuous wedding breakfast.
It occurred to Ursula that everybody present, including herself, had a role to play.
The doting mother, the proud father, the blushing bride, the happy guests.
Ursula herself sat the head of the table, with Mama beside her.
Papa was off talking to somebody or other, and Graham sat on her other side, very stiff and silent.
He hadn’t spoken since he had promised to love and cherish her as his wife forever. They had shared a brief carriage ride from the church to the Fairmont residence, but that was barely ten minutes long and it was easy enough to ignore each other.
I’m wedded, Ursula thought numbly. I am now a wife.
No matter how hard she tried, her gaze kept wandering towards the man at her right, Graham, her husband, who was sitting straight and rigid with his gaze transfixed somewhere else in the crowd of people surrounding them.
It took her a moment to discover where he was looking, but then she noticed his friend, Lord Hartwell, standing by the mantelpiece.
“Oh,” she said aloud, too surprised to think twice before speaking, “Lord Hartwell and Charlotte seem to be excellent friends already.”
Had Charlotte mentioned an acquaintance with Lord Hartwell?
She couldn’t recall. Even if she had, there was something more than a simple acquaintanceship there.
Charlotte was looking up at Lord Hartwell with a rather singular expression, her eyes shining.
At that moment he said something which caused her to laugh loudly.
Almost instantly, she brought her hand to her face and covered her mouth.
Ursula did not know Lord Hartwell enough to guess at whether he was displaying real interest or not. Perhaps he was simply a polite man. He appeared pleasant enough, with a genial round face, large brown eyes, and a shockingly violent scar running down his neck.
“You seem surprised that they are friends,” Graham answered, his voice a little tight. “Jonathan Lord Hartwell who is an excellent man. Your Miss Winter might make worse friends.”
Ursula shot him a surprised glance. “I was not trying to insult your friend.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “No, of course not. Forgive me, I am… I am rather on edge. One’s wedding day is a rather stressful event, as it turns out.”
“I was warned of this,” Ursula admitted, taking up her glass of champagne.
Mama had told her not to drink too much, in case the alcohol affected her “performance” later.
Ursula had not asked what “performance” that might be.
It was probably best not to know the details, only that it would involve the act between men and women.
Proper ladies don’t think of such things, even on their wedding day, Ursula thought, shooting a quick sideways glance at her new husband. They are entirely virtuous, even in thought.
Graham reached for his own champagne, taking a small sip. He had a strong profile, with the tiniest kink in the bridge of his nose. His lips were thin, but soft-looking, and he had a wide mouth which was not unbecoming. Ursula’s chest tightened. What would it be like? What would he be like?
No doubt sensing her gaze on him, Graham glanced over at her, and Ursula hastily averted her eyes.
She could sense him still looking at her, lips parted as if he planned to speak. Before he could manage a word, however, a shadow fell over them. Ursula looked up to find the Dowager Lady Sinclair looming of them.
Her new mother-in-law.
At once, Ursula rose to her feet, offering a hopeful smile. She hadn’t spent much time looking at the dowager during the ceremony, but she had felt the older woman’s baleful stare on her much more often.
It was hardly surprising. Everybody knew that Lady Margaret Sinclair had such high hopes for her only son, only to see those hopes dashed as her son insisted upon marrying the most scandalous woman of the Season, a woman with a ruined reputation. No wonder she was angry.
“Lady Sinclair,” Ursula said at once, making a neat curtsey. “It is good to see you.”
She was rewarded with a frosty smile.
“Congratulations, my dear. You are the only Lady Sinclair that anybody will care about now,” she responded tartly. “You should call me Margaret, I suppose. To avoid confusion.”
“That’s good of you, Mother,” Graham said, sounding a little relieved. He glanced sharply between Ursula and his mother, as if apprehensive. “You should sit here with us.”
Margaret gave a tight smile. “I would really rather speak to the guests. Somebody must, after all.”
Ursula flinched. Was that an insult, a remark aimed at her parents’ hosting? It might well be. Before she could respond, Margaret continued on in the same cool, fluting voice.
“What a delightful spread! It is so lovely to be greeted with good, simple fare at a wedding breakfast. Many people prefer to fill their tables with large amounts of luxurious food. All those dishes, so rich! I admire your modesty, my dear. Humility is a much-overlooked virtue; you are quite bold to embrace it. It is most becoming.”
The insult was now clear and obvious. Ursula had had no say in the choice of food, of course, but she knew quite well that modesty and humility were not the qualities her parents had had in mind. Quite the reverse, in fact.
Ursula found herself not entirely sure how to respond to the snub. Hesitating, she glanced up at Graham. He was staring at his mother, a faint frown between his brows. A muscle ticked in his cheek.
“I find it perfectly charming,” he responded shortly. “Sometimes, the most meaningful celebrations are the most intimate ones. I cannot imagine that anybody could find even the slightest flaw in this wonderful breakfast.”
This was apparently not what Margaret had hoped to hear. She sniffed, tilting up her chin.
“How differently we feel,” she muttered, and turned away without another word. Ursula felt a frisson of pride that her new husband had made his feelings so clear. He had sided with her, or at least with her family, and that meant something.
Both she and Graham sank down into their seats again and exchanged a brief glance. He turned away quickly, and Ursula could not read his thoughts in his eyes.
“Excuse me,” he said shortly, rising to his feet. “I should greet our guests.”
Ursula swallowed. “Yes, of course.”
He hurried off across the floor, moving towards Lord Hartwell. Sighing, Ursula reached for her champagne glass again and took a larger mouthful.
This is going to be a long day.
***
“Goodbye, Mama,” Ursula whispered. When it came to it at last, her voice choked with emotion.
Despite it all, I don’t want to leave here, Ursula thought, a little surprised. I won’t miss Papa, but Mama… she tried her best for me, didn’t she?
Mama’s expression was tight, her smile a little too fixed. Was that real emotion dancing in her eyes? Before Ursula could inspect closer, her mother pulled her close in a tight hug.
“Farewell, my darling girl,” Mama whispered.
“Be a good wife. Before, your happiness rested on obliging me and your Papa. Now, you have only to oblige one person to keep happy, and that person is your husband. He will, however, be much more demanding. Be prepared. Be biddable and sweet, and never complain, and you shall be fine, I am sure of it.”
She pulled back abruptly, before Ursula had a chance to respond. Papa had wandered off back to the drawing room to pour himself yet another whiskey.
The guests, of course, were all gone, and the servants were left to clear the ballroom, where they’d had the breakfast. Outside, the Sinclair carriage waited.
Graham had tactfully taken himself out to oversee her things being lashed to the carriage roof, so that she could take her leave of her parents.
Or parent, rather, as Papa did not apparently care enough to bid farewell to his only daughter.
“Georgie told me that I can always speak to her, if necessary. She said that family must stick together.” Ursula explained, offering a weak smile. “And Charlotte promises to visit me as soon as she can.”
Mama sniffed. “Yes, well, you’re a wedded woman now, so I cannot imagine you and Charlotte will see much of each other anymore.
And as for Georgiana, I hope you’ll use your new position to help your cousin to secure a suitable husband, my dear.
Now, speaking of husbands, you had better not keep yours waiting. Out you go.”
And so, Ursula found herself hustled out of the home she had lived for her entire life, almost stumbling down the steps. Mama stood in the doorway, her frame rigid, and waved a handkerchief limply in the air.
There was nothing for it but to walk as confidently as she could manage across the courtyard, where a footman waited to hand her up into the carriage. Ursula climbed in at once before she had a chance to change her mind.
Not that I do have a chance to change my mind, she thought dizzily, plumping down into the carriage seat. I never did.
The door was closed firmly behind her, and the carriage lurched forward. Pressing her nose against the window, Ursula caught a last glimpse of her home, receding into the background, with Mama standing miserably in the doorway.
Silence fell, broken only by the clop of the horses’ hooves and the jingle of their harnesses.
Graham sat in the opposite corner, a book in his hands. She threw a tentative glance at him, and he gave a wry smile.