“I hardly think that will be necessary,” Amelia said. “But I would be happy to come to Ipswich for a week or so and help you find your way until you feel capable. The house only has two bedrooms, however, so I can stay at an inn in town.”
“Thank you,” Hazel said, unable to remember the last time she’d felt such genuine care from another person. “I do not even know enough to know what I do not know,” she admitted with a shrug. “I am extremely intimidated by the tasks ahead. This arrangement is only for a year, but I do not wish to live in discomfort and angst.”
“Then I should be happy to guide you, if you’ll have me.”
Hazel shared a shaky smile across the shaky carriage. “That would be most welcome, thank you.” She paused. “Forgive me my sharp edges today, Amelia. You have been nothing but kind to me, and I am acting the part of a spoiled child.”
“Oh, Hazel, there is nothing to forgive. I have my own share of sharp edges, but I do hope you will see me as the friend and ally I wish to be.”
Hazel nodded, grateful and humbled. She’d never had enough connection with her own mother to truly know what a normal mother-daughter relationship should feel like, but she thought it might feel like this. “Thank you, Amelia.”
“You’re welcome, Hazel. Shall I tell you about the staff that’s been hired for the house? You’ll be glad to know that the cook Duncan approved quite likes cats.”
Though Hazel had voiced her decision to be married in one of her teaching dresses, in the week between the carriage discussion with Amelia and the actual day of her wedding, she changed her mind.
Amelia had taken her to a dressmaker friend of hers, who fitted a few already made dresses to Hazel so she would have some things a step above her teaching gowns to take with her to Ipswich. Among those dresses was a lavender-sprig muslin that Hazel had loved as soon as she’d put it on. The wide neckline showed off her collarbone, and the sleeves came to just above her elbows. There was no lace, no ruffles, no beading, or frippery, just clean lines that defined Hazel’s shape in ways her teacher dresses never had. When she wore it, she felt beautiful, and even though the marriage was not a love match, she found herself wanting to feel beautiful on her wedding day.
On the morning of November 7, Amelia’s ladies’ maid twisted Hazel’s chestnut hair into an elaborate style woven with tiny white flowers. Hazel studied her reflection in the looking glass and swallowed the emotion that rose up in response. She looked so much like Hannah had on her wedding day, and it gave her a connection she rarely felt to her sister. It was too late to invite Hannah or Harry, but the fact that she wanted to, even for a moment, was something she tucked away to be looked at later.
She had declined a bouquet and refused to walk down the aisle of the church—the last thing she wanted was to have anyone watch her walk. Instead, she followed Uncle Elliott, Aunt Amelia, and Duncan into the church, stepping forward to greet the vicar, Mr. Tottenshod, when he arrived.
She sensed the vicar’s confusion as she hurried through the introductions and thanked him for making the time. She caught Amelia’s tight expression from the corner of her eye and realized that her desire to treat this event like a business transaction was coming across as rude. She pulled back, stilled her tongue, and pasted a smile. She went along with things from that point on, silently willing things to move quickly.
Without her prodding, the entire process slowed, and she lowered herself into the front pew and waited to be called forward. While she waited, she looked around the church—a lovely light-gray stone with a stained-glass window depicting a bearded man in a white robe—Jesus, she assumed—touching the eyes of a man who knelt at his feet. The colors were bright, and the morning sun made them seem almost alive.
Glass was made of nothing but sand. Stained glass, as she understood it, was colored by adding different minerals to the sand before the heating process that liquified the elements, allowing them to be shaped and formed. Chemistry. Focus. Creation.
She was so engrossed in the details of the window that she startled when Duncan appeared in front of her. He put out his hand, and she looked at it—the hand of the man who was soon to be her husband. Her gaze traveled up to his face. Were they doing the right thing? Would the sand and minerals of their lives melt down properly to form something useful to them both?
Strangely enough, she thought that they would, and she glanced at the window, remembering the soft air of the room the night Sophie had prayed. If marrying Duncan was the right thing to do, what did that mean? What constituted right or wrong in their situation? She did not think that the God Sophie believed in would smile upon Hazel and Duncan marrying one another for the worldly gain it brought to both of them. But was He not also the God who created sand and heat and oxidizing minerals?
“I can stand on my own, Duncan,” she said as she pushed herself to her feet. “But, thank you.”
He lowered his hand and stepped back, then put out his arm. He tensed when she put her arm through his, but then he relaxed, and they walked to the pulpit together. Almost a wedding march except for her staccato gait. Aunt Amelia and Uncle Elliott were serving as witnesses and came to stand beside them, Amelia on Hazel’s side and Elliott on Duncan’s.
“Dearly beloved,” the vicar intoned.
Hazel took a breath in anticipation of the rather lengthy service. Her hip already hurt.
“We are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this . . . congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency . . .”
The vicar droned on and on, and Hazel struggled to be attentive despite the butterflies in her stomach. This was truly happening, and even though she’d had two months to prepare, she did not feel ready for the changes these words were going to create for her.
One year. Twelve months. She could playact this role for twelve months, couldn’t she?
“Therefore, if any man can show any just cause,” the vicar said, his tone signaling he was nearing the end, “why these two may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”
Silence filled the church.
The vicar took a step back and closed his Book of Common Prayer. “Now, though it is not an official portion of the Church of England ceremony, it is a tradition growing in popularity, and I find it particularly fitting, so much that I believe in time it shall become a standard practice.” He smiled at both of them and then seemed to realize that he hadn’t actually said what this additional portion was. “You may share a kiss as a physical symbol of your commitment to one another, body and soul.”
Hazel blinked. A kiss! She looked at Duncan, expecting him to be equally taken aback, but his bright eyes and eager expression reminded her immediately of their awkward discussion regarding marital intimacy. For the space of a moment, she considered putting her hand up to stop him moving toward her.