40. In which there is a happy day and a Rogue #2
Charlotte could hardly believe what Hester and Odette had told her an hour ago in the bedroom.
She wasn’t totally without knowledge on the subject of sex.
Her mother had given her some very vague details before her marriage to Ernie, and she knew the basics from romance novels, but what Hester and the siren had told her had made her blood hot.
Her fingers trembled as she pushed the stems of white roses into her hair.
“Do you need some help with the veil?” Fliss asked, plucking it from the bed. “It’s almost time to leave.”
Charlotte snapped out of the daze she was in. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Are you quite alright, Boss?” Fliss affixed the veil carefully.
She had been alright. She wasn’t quite so sure now. “Nervous.”
“Valour in the face of fear.” Fliss winked and stepped back, her eyes lighting. “You look simply stunning.”
Ernie’s words echoed through Charlotte’s mind.
You are as stunning as the frozen continent, my dear.
She knotted her fingers together. The day was bittersweet, but she thought he approved of Arnold, if the visitation she had received in the tent had really happened.
He would want her to be happy. And she was.
Stupendously so. And hadn’t she grown past the feeling of nervousness?
Hadn’t she grown into something bolder and brighter on the voyage?
She brushed her fingers over her upper arm, the gold fabric delightfully luxurious. Underneath it, by Hester’s request, Mei had tattooed Valour in the face of fear. Of her three tattoos, it was Charlotte’s favourite. She straightened her spine.
“Boss?” Fliss’s voice snapped her back to herself. “The others are waiting. Shall we?” Fliss offered her arm.
Oh, gosh. It was time already. Where had the morning gone? Could she stay in the bedroom all day? But Fliss was pulling her to the staircase, and at the bottom, Rufus, Betty, Peggy, Valerie, Hester, Odette, Mei and Alma waited, all dressed up in their finery, a collective “Ooooh” going up.
Peggy clapped her hands. “You look wonderful, Boss.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte murmured, allowing herself to be led down the stairs.
“I’ll admit it, you outshine me,” Hester said, grinning and linking her arm through Charlotte’s, pulling her out of the open front door. “We are suitably late. But it’s always good to keep men waiting.”
Out on the street, two white carriages waited, the horses stomping, ribbons and bows festooning everything. The sun still shone brightly, and not a cloud marred the clear blue sky.
Charlotte’s palms were sweaty. She must not touch the dress, must not mark it. Alma thrust a beautiful bouquet of pink roses into Charlotte’s hands and passed a smaller one to Hester.
Flowers. Roses. Roses were nice. The house was also nice. Safe. “Can we go back inside?” she asked, leaning into Hester’s side.
“You’re not getting cold feet, are you, Boss?” Hester smiled kindly, then bundled her unceremoniously into the carriage. “Here, let’s bring Marjorie along. She’ll set you at ease.” The dog bounded into the carriage, sprinkling white hairs everywhere.
Hester climbed in, followed by Fliss, Peggy and Odette.
The siren had changed into a more presentable dress, still dark green, and a little too lacy to be entirely proper, her ample chest on show.
She sat opposite Charlotte. “Would you like me to sing in the church? I’d be honoured.
” She leant in, her smile wide enough to show her most of her teeth, including the pointed canines.
“Oh! No—I mean, no thank you.” Imagine, a siren singing at her wedding and the men all falling over themselves. Charlotte flushed, her hands still shaking.
“Suit yourself,” Odette huffed, folding her arms.
“Hush, or you’re out,” Hester growled, and Odette rolled her eyes and looked out the window, her mouth clamped shut.
The ride to the church wasn’t long, only taking ten minutes, but it reminded Charlotte of a carriage ride two and a half years ago, with black horses instead of white, and a churning began in her stomach. She ran one hand over the Valour tattoo, the other rested between Marjorie’s ears.
Her dress was covered in little white hairs.
The peal of the church bells drew closer.
And closer.
Until they pulled up outside the church.
This was it. Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then she was hurried out of the carriage on a tide of Hester, Odette, Fliss and Peggy, the others joining from the carriage behind, Marjorie darting between everyone’s legs.
“Charlotte, my darling! You look wonderful.” Her father was there, waiting, in his finest suit. He offered her his arm, and she took it, hoping he wouldn’t notice her trembling hands. His eyes caught on Odette. “Who is your friend? I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Odette smiled wide and reached out to pat his cheek. “And aren’t you a silver fox?” She licked her lips.
Oh, no. Her father was gazing stupidly at Odette. “Get her inside!” Charlotte whispered to Fliss, who nodded and whisked Odette into the church, the rest of the crew following, leaving her standing with Marjorie, Hester and her father. She wiped her brow.
Charlotte imagined all the people staring at her. People who were on the other side of those wooden doors. There was a buzz of noise, and the organ started playing.
Hester stood before her. “Boss. Come on, now. Just a few steps through that door. You have done much harder things than this.”
Drat Hester for knowing she was nervous.
She didn’t want to be nervous. She hadn’t been stuck in Antarctica for two years to get home and be nervous about a few people looking at her.
No. She had not eaten seals and penguins and lived under a boat for months to quake in her boots outside a church. She could do this.
Charlotte ran up to the doors and flung them open, dragging her poor father along.
“Wait! I’m supposed to go first!” Hester said, running up behind.
“Change of plan,” Charlotte said with a smile.
Her smile widened when her eyes locked onto the back of Arnold at the altar.
It was funny. She didn’t even notice the people in the pews either side of her as she marched down the aisle towards him.
And then he turned, and his face broke into a smile to match hers, crinkles at the corners of his hazel eyes, brown hair brushed to one side and face freshly shaved. The tightness in her chest faded.
He was her light in the darkness.
Charlotte stood before him, and her father kissed her on the cheek.
“Take good care of her,” he said to Arnold.
“I will, although she takes care of herself rather well,” Arnold said with a proud smile, taking her hands in his. Marjorie sat by her feet, her ever faithful companion.
There was a bustling and scurrying from behind, and then Charlotte’s mother was embracing her. “My little girl! I’m so proud of you, Charlotte.”
Charlotte smiled, her eyes filling with tears as she squeezed her mother back. “Thank you, mother.”
The vicar cleared his throat, and Charlotte’s mother planted a kiss on Charlotte’s and then Arnold’s cheeks and sat down.
Much of what happened next passed in a blur.
The vicar was speaking, “Arnold James Miller. Will you take Charlotte Florence Bailey to be your wedded wife, and love her, comfort her, honour and protect her, as long as you both live?”
Arnold squeezed her hands and said, “I will.”
“Charlotte Florence Bailey. Do you take Arnold James Miller to be your wedded husband, and love him, comfort him, honour and protect him, as long as you both live?”
“I will,” Charlotte said breathlessly. She could think of nothing better.
“And will you all support them in their marriage?”
The congregation replied, “We will.”
Marjorie threw her head back and howled, to much laughter.
“Lay your hands here,” the vicar said, indicating the Bible before him. “Repeat after me, Arnold. I, Arnold, take thee Charlotte, to be my wife. For richer or poorer, for better or worse, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
Arnold repeated the words, and Charlotte spoke them after him.
Arnold slipped a wedding band onto her finger, and she did the same for him, saying, “With this ring, I wed thee.”
The vicar raised his eyes from the Bible. “In the presence of God, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Cheers went up, and Charlotte stifled a squeak as Arnold kissed her, his lips soft against hers.
The sun had set, and the other guests had left Amery House long ago.
Only the crews of the Valour and Intrepid remained in the drawing room, Mei’s accordion loud in Hester’s ears, Rufus twanging the banjo, the dogs howling along.
She was pressed against Septimus, dancing, sweat on her brow, wine on her dress, a warm glow in her heart.
His hands roved over her ass, and she closed her eyes.
God, his touch set her alight in torturous ways.
A loud noise had her eyes snapping open.
Fliss had just fallen from the coffee table and lay in a heap with Emlyn, giggling.
But her eyes lacked the fog of alcohol, and was that a hand running over her belly?
Hester had her suspicions. She smiled. Perhaps she would be an auntie soon.
Oh, she could teach Fliss’s child all sorts of bad tricks. What fun.
Charlotte was dancing with wild abandon, and well she might, as Hester had plied her with wine all evening. She was surprised Arnold had not yet whisked her away and told them all to leave. She chuckled at the look in his eyes. Hungry, and like he couldn’t quite believe his luck.
Odette danced with Mei, the two thick as thieves. She supposed Odette would take her away for a month after this for their bargain. The siren had been winking at her all afternoon.
Hester jumped onto the coffee table, wine glass in hand. “To friends and failure!”
“To friends and failure,” the crew roared back.
Hester remembered being high up with a drink in her hand over two years ago, and her eyes met Septimus’s. She pointed at him and cried, “Charge it all to his tab!”