Charlie
Ned had insisted on paying for first-class train tickets, the fool. It was only a few hours to Oxford, no reason to sit in fancier seats for the sake of it.
But it was Ned’s first time getting married, and Charlie intended it to be Ned’s only time, so Charlie was inclined to indulge him. He had even agreed to the chapel and some pomp, even if visible only to themselves.
As they were getting ready, Charlie admitted to himself that he was pleased they had made the effort. Ned dressed to the nines was always worth it, and Charlie liked seeing himself dressed properly too, a man worthy of Ned.
Charlie knew that Oxford was a special place for Ned.
There were prints of the city all over the flat, and he spoke frequently about his time at university.
There was an extra skip in Ned’s steps the moment they left the train station.
Charlie, on the other hand, felt like he had the word ‘outsider’ stamped on his face.
He had come up to Oxford only once to see some Morris Motors cars, but the automotive manufacturing company was on the outskirts of town.
He had never wandered through the heart of the university before.
They could have taken a cab to Ned’s college, but Ned had wanted to walk. He excitedly pointed out various haunts of his youth. The Oxford Union, the Turf Tavern, the Bodleian Library.
As they walked up Cornmarket Street, one market stall caught Charlie’s eye. He stopped and quickly bartered with the florist. Charlie returned to Ned with a pale English rose and some blue forget-me-nots.
“We need flowers,” Charlie said gruffly, pinning the rose to Ned, which had been cut as a boutonniere. Ned blinked rapidly as he pinned the little blue flowers to Charlie’s lapel.
They arrived at an ancient porter’s lodge, and Ned went in with a letter to sort out whatever had been arranged.
Charlie stood in the quadrangle of the college, respecting the neat signs not to walk on the grass.
Ned had explained to him the differences between the colleges, and the specific advantageous features of his own, but it had gone over Charlie’s head.
He suspected it was something like football allegiances—impenetrable to those on the outside.
He absent-mindedly played with his wedding ring.
His father had never worn a ring, but Betty had wanted one for each of them, so he had paid out the pounds for the gold band.
He vividly remembered picking out Betty’s engagement ring, wanting to get her something special but feeling like he was grasping at straws when it came to finding the one that would suit her.
In the end he went with a small diamond in gold that she still wore, but when she needed comfort, she would reach for Henderson’s engagement ring that she wore on a chain around her neck.
For a long time, Charlie had been hugely envious of that ring and chain.
Not of Henderson, but that Betty had such a personal token of her lost love. He’d had nothing of Ned.
His hands had trembled so badly when he married Betty, he almost didn’t get the ring on her finger.
He had been terrified of what he was promising to her, that he wouldn’t be worthy of her or up to the task of marriage.
He had half expected a similar fit of nerves this morning, but instead he had only felt quiet excitement.
His soul had already been committed to this man.
Ned walked out of the porter’s lodge, massive key in hand, and strode toward Charlie. He always moved like a man with a purpose.
“Apologies,” he said when he reached Charlie, “there was a bit of a back and forth to get my letter with the master acknowledged, but I got the key in the end.”
Ned turned towards a stone arch, and they walked side by side, the heels of their freshly polished shoes tapping against the hard stone. After three or four turns, Ned stopped in front of a massive wooden door and inserted the key into an equally ornate lock.
The door creaked open and Ned held it with a grand flourish. “Just because we’re getting married doesn’t mean you get to open doors for me,” Charlie grumbled as Ned locked the door behind them. The cool air of the chapel made Charlie shiver.
For the first time since they had left their bedroom, they were properly alone. Ned took Charlie’s hand and dropped every mask, leaving only love and excitement written plainly across his face. “We have the place to ourselves for an hour.”
“Anything we should be worried about?”
Ned leaned over to kiss Charlie, chaste but not short. “Not at this time of day.”
While a church would never bless their vows, and Ned wasn’t a publicly religious man, Charlie knew that exchanging their vows in a church was important for Ned.
And of course his fancy, aristocratic lover would be most at ease in a place that looked like a miniature version of Westminster Cathedral.
The nave was decorated from floor to ceiling in rows of stone statues, and the sides were lined with three rows of pews in old, worn oak.
The stained-glass windows above the pews cast rainbows of colour haphazardly around the space.
“You had to be a high church Anglican, didn’t you? ”
Ned sniffed. “I like my religion appropriately done up.” Looking towards the large stone altar, Ned swallowed, as if the magnitude of what they were about to do had only just dawned on him. “I guess we should get on with it then?”
In front of the altar there were benches for prayers, and Ned and Charlie pulled them together.
Ned pulled out a few more papers, bless his organised, controlling soul. Charlie knew that Ned had agonised for weeks over an adaptation of the Anglican service.
As Ned passed Charlie the paper, he whispered, “We don’t have witnesses.”
Charlie squeezed his hand. “We witness for each other. You knowing I said these words are all I need.”
Ned visibly relaxed, and Charlie opened the papers.
Ned had picked a number of biblical passages and prayers for them to read. Charlie followed along, but his mind kept wandering, keen to jump ahead to the bit where they turned towards each other and spoke words to each other as much as to God.
The vows were the ones they had all heard before. Charlie turned toward Ned, staring into those swirling hazel eyes.
“In the name of God, I, Charles William Villiers, take you,
Edmund Stephen Pinsent of Heyworth, to be my husband.
“In the name of God, I, Edmund Stephen Pinsent of Heyworth, take you, Charles William Villiers, to be my husband.”
“. . . to have and to hold from this day forward . . .”
“. . . for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health . . .”
“. . . to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death.”
“This is my solemn vow.”
“This is my solemn vow.”
Charlie tried to memorise every second of this moment. The sun streaming through the windows, catching the dust and making it sparkle. The draft lightly ruffling Ned’s hair, the tremble of his soft hand. The certainty of his gaze.
Husband. They were husbands.
Ned bit his lip. “I know we can’t have rings, but I wanted something.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two matching boxes. “They’re cufflinks.”
Charlie fell in love with Ned all over again. “That’s perfect.”
Ned turned back towards the altar. “Bless, O Lord, these to be a sign of the vows by which we have bound ourselves to each other. Through Jesus Christ our Lord, amen.”
Ned gave Charlie one of the boxes. “These are mine for you to put on.” Carefully, but with steady hands, Charlie undid the cufflinks Ned was already wearing and slipped in the new ones. Ned had gone for plain and simple ones that Charlie could wear day to day without attracting attention.
As Charlie pushed the links through the holes in Ned’s cuffs, the words came to him without looking at what Ned had written. “Ned, I give you this as a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honour you, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
Charlie’s voice almost broke at the end, and he saw that Ned’s eyes were misty. “Your turn, before we both lose it.”
Charlie found it more emotional than he could imagine watching Ned thread the shiny gold through his cuffs and repeated the same vow.
Charlie knew he had a habit of clutching the scars on his wrists when he was anxious, a way of reminding himself he was alive.
Now, when he looked at his wrists, all he would see was the glimmer of gold that represented Ned’s love.
“I love you,” Charlie said.
“I love you too.”
“Are we going to get through the Lord’s Prayer?”
“We can rush it; they always do at weddings.”
They began the prayer together. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…”
Their voices faintly echoed against the chapel’s walls, entwined into one.
???
Ned
Both men needed a few minutes to pull themselves together after the ceremony.
They slowly moved through the chapel, lingering at the college memorial, honouring students killed during the Great War.
Ned knew so many names, men that would never get to experience the joy of growing old beside the person they loved.
Moving by instinct, he removed his boutonniere and laid it beside the memorial.
He ran his fingers along Albert’s carved name. As a German, he wasn’t on the college’s ornate memorial, but on a smaller plaque to the side, ‘for those that fought for foreign powers.’
As they stepped into the sun, Ned turned to his husband and smiled. “Ready for lunch?”
His fingers twitched to reach for Charlie’s, but there would be time for that later. Now, they had a reservation for a table at an old coaching inn that had been a favourite when he was a student. A bottle of burgundy had already been put aside for them.
“Yes, but you aren’t the only one who organised plans for today.” Charlie was smug with delight.
“Oh really?” Ned couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.
“We are going to have photographs taken.”
“Photographs?”
“I want to be able to remember this day for the rest of our lives. To be able to look at a picture of you looking stunning whenever I want.” Charlie grazed his fingers across Ned’s.
“George gave me a name, a man who can be trusted. The pictures won’t be obscene.
Most people wouldn’t even recognise what they are. ”
Ned smiled, his heart brimming. “It’s a beautiful plan.”
“I couldn’t let my husband not have a wedding present.”
Ned blushed. “I’ve never heard those words before.”
“And how does it feel?”
“Like it should have been the case all along, husband.”