Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
The wedding of the Season began with sparkling weather. Winter had melted into spring, and the narcissi and tulips in the Burggarten were nodding their yellow heads in the breeze. Carriages lined the streets all the way to the old church at the Minoritenplatz.
The bride looked somewhat pale but composed, onlookers observed, though a picture of a bride for all that, with her perfect red-brown corkscrew curls, a sweetness about her face, and a shy smile.
She would do very well, the Viennese decided, for their field marshal, who appeared decked out in full military glory, uniform and medals and all.
The ceremony passed without incident, and then the assembled guests removed to a second, Anglican rite conducted by a chaplain.
Lord and Lady Castlereagh were not present, having been obliged to return to Britain. In their stead appeared the new representative of His Majesty’s Government, who was no one less than the Duke of Wellington himself. Many onlookers had flocked to obtain a glimpse of the hero of Vitoria.
“It is a grand occasion, indeed,” he said, probably for the third time, during his, as Evie privately considered, unconsciously lengthy speech at the wedding breakfast.
Georg was leaning back, one arm draped over Evie’s chair, his other hand holding hers.
Then it struck her. She was married. She had a husband.
She looked up in wonder at her husband, who was listening to Wellington with a slightly amused expression playing about his lips.
“…and so we crossed the Zadorra behind their right flank, while Graham went around the north to close the road to Bayonne. The enemy retreated, abandoning their equipment. By the afternoon, their entire baggage train was in our hands. One hundred and fifty-one guns. Gold, jewels, priceless paintings. King Joseph’s own dinner service, as a matter of fact.
” He paused to accept a refill of his glass.
“In addition to his chamber pot. Entirely in silver, I must point out.”
Evie’s eyes glazed over, for she had heard the story at least four times before, and this made the fifth.
“That is all excellent, Your Grace,” Julius’s voice interrupted with a drawl.
“And you have earned your laurels with merit. But this is my sister’s wedding day, and I prefer we do not talk of war, death, and looting on so joyous an occasion.
And so, to my sister, and to my old friend and now true brother,” he bowed towards Hartenberg, “I did not believe this day would ever come. Guard her well, old friend. You will never find another like her.”
“And well I know that,” Hartenberg replied softly.
Julius raised his glass. “To you both, in honour.”
“And may you be as happily married as we are,” Catherine added beside him, beaming.
Julius looked at his wife, and something in his face softened. “Indeed.”
The entire company rose with raised glasses. Hartenberg took Evie’s arm and helped her to her feet, and she raised her glass and smiled tearfully at the blurry, beaming faces around her. Her brother, his wife, Clara, and lastly Hartenberg.
“Thank you,” she whispered, restraining herself with difficulty from throwing her arms around her brother’s neck. Why on earth was she so weepy? She swiped at her tears, quite cross with herself. A handkerchief appeared in front of her, Hartenberg holding it out without comment.
She took it and wiped her face.
Wellington, undeterred, took the occasion to embark on another of his anecdotes.
“Now may be a good moment to slip away, I suppose,” her brother murmured.
A slight wave of panic assailed Evie. She was to be alone now, with her husband? They were to leave for Wolfsthal, where they would spend the night before continuing on to their wedding trip to Italy.
The wedding night.
Evie swallowed. “Already? Shouldn’t we take care of the guests, first?”
Catherine smiled mischievously. “We will take care of that, my dear. Why don’t you go and change?” She took her hand and led Evie out of the room.
Evie slipped out of her wedding dress, a confection of cream silk and gold and roses, and changed into a travel dress. She scolded herself for being more nervous now than she had been before the wedding, which made no sense at all, but the scolding had no effect upon her wildly beating heart.
“How was it with you?” she asked, the question coming out smaller than she had intended. “I mean, after the ceremony. After everything was over. Was it very awkward? Because you and Julius were not very close to each other, at first.”
Catherine took the brush from the maid’s hand and sent her out. She began to brush Evie’s hair, and tied it back with a ribbon.
“It was so very long ago, my wedding to Julius. I was but a girl myself, if you recall. And ours was an arranged marriage at first.” She continued brushing.
“And as you know, my memory is not the best, since after my accident I lost many of those details. Some of them have never returned, but I find that for the best. It is not that time that is of importance. It is in the past, and what matters is the present. Was it very awkward, you ask? Here in Vienna, when Julius insisted I was his wife and moved into our home, yes, for as long as I considered him a stranger, it was rather awkward indeed. But from the moment I realised I loved him, and that a part of me had never stopped loving him, the awkwardness passed very quickly.” She gave a soft laugh.
“Now I cannot bear to be separated from him for more than a few hours.”
“You are so very lucky,” Evie sighed.
“But Evie.” Catherine set down the brush and looked at her intently. “You love him. Do you not?”
Evie worried her lip with her teeth. She had never confessed it to anyone, and only recently to herself. Then she looked up at Catherine, tears gathering in her eyes once more.
“I do,” she said in a choked voice, and threw her arms around Catherine’s neck. “I do, so very, very much.”
Catherine patted her back and held her, saying nothing for a long moment. “Well, then. That is good. You will do very well, indeed.”
But Evie’s relief at having said it aloud lasted only as long as it took for the next thought to find her.
“But I do not think he loves me in return,” she said, her voice muffled against Catherine’s shoulder.
“He is fond of me, yes. Maybe he respects me a little, even. But I think that is all.” There was to be no grand, epic passion. He had made that clear enough.
Catherine untangled herself and looked into Evie’s face. “Has he actually said so?”
Evie sniffed. “No.”
“Well, there is hope then. Oh come, child.” She took a handkerchief and wiped Evie’s cheeks.
“What should I do, Catherine?” Evie crumpled the handkerchief in her hand. “Should I simply ask him outright? When he has already declared he does not believe in love?”
Catherine considered for a moment, the brush still in her hand.
“When Julius and I were first married, he could not have told me what he felt if his life had depended upon it, and the truth is, back then, he was too blind to even recognise love when it screamed in his face. I had to be the one to love him enough for the both of us until he finally learned how to lower his walls.” She smiled.
“Hartenberg strikes me as much the same. He will not find his way to it on his own, Evie. You will have to lead him there.”
Evie nodded slowly. “I have no idea how to do that. But it is good advice, indeed.”
Feeling considerably better, the two women rejoined the remaining company. As Evie entered the room, Hartenberg looked up and a smile escaped him before he could school his face back into composure, and her heart skipped.
She stepped towards her husband, who took her hands. “Ready?”
When he looked at her like that, she found it so very easy to believe that maybe, just maybe…
She opened her mouth.
Just then, the door slammed open and an officer burst into the room.
“Your Grace,” he gasped, not entirely certain which duke he was addressing, Wellington or Aldingbourne. “Your Excellency. I am the bearer of terrible news.”
Wellington stepped forward. “What has happened, man? Speak!”
The officer opened his mouth, once, twice, as if incapable of uttering the words.
At last he stammered, his voice cracking, “He has returned.”