'Wilt thou have this woman as thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?'
The words echoed in the church, feeling louder in my ears than the ringing of the bell. Mr Ambrose's head turned towards me, his fierce eyes searing into me. I stared back just as fiercely, my hand almost squashing his.
Was he going to break the silence?
You'd better!
Turning back to the vicar, Mr Ambrose inclined his head once, fast and hard. 'Yes.'
The vicar turned towards me, a broad smile on his face.
'And wilt thou have this man as thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?'
Once more, I looked up at Mr Ambrose, unable to keep a smile off my face. In my mind, words from long ago replayed. Words that could be said to be my true wedding vows.
I'll swear to always obey your orders if you swear never to give me any.
Mr Ambrose met my gaze, and in his wonderfully icy eyes, I could see the answer: You're mad!
My smile widened. I know.
His eyes softened just the tiniest little bit. I love you.
Squeezing his hand, I took a deep breath and turned back towards the vicar. 'Yes.'
Whispers and snivels from rose from the crowd all around. The vicar spread his arms, raising his voice.
'Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?'
Uncle Bufford stepped forward, a tortured expression on his face.
'You really hate giving stuff away, don't you?' I whispered.
'Hrumph.' He sent me a grumpy look. 'Only valuable stuff.'
Then, as warmth blossomed in my chest, he took my free hand and placed it in Mr Ambrose's. He nodded to us, and so did the vicar. Standing ramrod-straight, Mr Rikkard Ambrose gazed directly into my eyes.
'I, Rikkard Ambrose, take you, Lillian Linton, to be my wedded wife, 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, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.'
Not blinking once, I stared up into his deep, dark, fathomless eyes as if I could drown myself in them, and spoke the words I had thought of again and again during the last few days and weeks.
'I, Lillian Linton, take you, Rikkard Ambrose, to be my wedded 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, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.'
Mr Ambrose released my left hand, and, reaching into his pocket, pulled out a simple golden wedding band. I breathed a little sigh of relief when I saw it was just big enough for one finger, not three. Inside it had something engraved. Squinting, I leaned closer.
R.A. & L.L.
I felt a sudden urge to throw myself at him.
Once again, his eyes fixed on mine. 'With this ring I thee wed.' His eyes lit up with icy fire. 'With my body I thee worship...' Oh, really? Hm...this was sounding interesting. '...and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.'
Grinning, I leaned forward. 'Are you sure?' I whispered. 'All your worldly goods? You are making quite the promise there.'
He too leaned forward, until his eyes were dark oceans about to swallow me up, and his lips were only inches from mine.
'Quite sure indeed.'
And then he slipped the ring onto my finger. A chorus of 'Aawww's went up into the air, and for a moment, we just stood there, gazing into each other's eyes as the vicar spoke a prayer. As his last words directed to the heavens ceased, the reverend reached for our right hands and, joining them together, held them aloft.
'Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder!'
A thunderous cheer went up from the crowd. Hats and bonnets where hurled into the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Karim reaching for his turbanâthen realizing what he was doing and hurriedly lowering his hands again. Laughing, too full of happiness to contain it all, I gazed up at Mr Rikkard Ambrose. At...my husband?
'Husband.' Swallowing hard. I placed a hand on his chest, just to check that he was truly real. 'That's going to take a while to get used to.'
Any other man might have said something like 'We have all the time in the world, darling.' But this wasn't any other man. This was my man. Grabbing my face, he pulled me roughly up towards him.
'You'd better get on with it, my little ifrit. I'm not a patient man.'
Beside us, the priest cleared his throat. 'You may kiss the brâ'
Mr Rikkard Ambrose had never been one to wait for anyone's permission. Tearing off the veil, his lips came crashing down on mine, sealing the bond that would unite us for the rest of our lives. More cheers and applause echoed through the church. Beaming, the priest spread his arms again.
'Let us pray!'
'Let's not!' Mr Ambrose growled against my lips and, tossing the veil away, he grabbed hold of me. For a moment, I wanted to protest. We were in church! In front of all our friends and family! I just couldn't! But then he deepened the kiss and...
Well, I could say that I changed my mind. But for that, I would have had to have a mind left to change. With his hard arms around me, holding me inescapably close, I felt my mind melting away. I was floating in a sea of bliss, and he was my only anchor. Beneath me, I felt my knees wobble. When he finally broke the kiss, I was thoroughly glad that his arm remained around my waist, holding me up.
I could rely on him.
Just as he could rely on me.
'Congratulations!' Without my noticing, the crowd swarmed around us, forming a long line of well-wishers, with Lady Samantha and Adaira at the head. The little marchioness rushed forward and seized my hand with a force you wouldn't have thought her capable of. 'Oh, Lilly, my dear! It's happened! It's finally, truly happened! I just can't quite believe it, and, oh...I...I hope you will be so very, very happy!'
'So do I!' Without waiting for her mother to let go, Adaira grabbed hold of me. 'And make sure you give me at least one cute little nephew before you kill each other, all right?'
Normally, I wasn't one for blushing. Firstly, because my face was rather tanned, and secondly, because there were few things that would actually make me blush. But when Adaira spoke these words, I lit up like a Christmas tree on fire in the middle of a lava pit. With an insolent grin, Adaira skipped away.
Nephew? Nephew? Did she really mean...?
'I wish you all the best, the both of you.' There, right behind Adaira, came Captain Carter. I could hardly keep from giggling as he took Mr Ambrose's hand without even noticing him trying to crush it to pieces. Then, with a deep, but rather hurried bow, he rushed off after Adaira.
'Hm...' Mr Ambrose gazed after the captain. 'His behaviour has certainly improved. He's learned to keep away from where he is not wanted.'
'Yes.' I coughed, 'That's why he ran off so fast. Definitely.'
Quickly, I turned his face towards me for a quick kiss, so he wouldn't notice the captain hurrying after a certain young lady. Sooner or later, he would go on a murderous rampageâbut I would rather it not be today.
'Congratulations.'
The new voice caught my attention. Seldom had I heard that word spoken with such lemon-bitter loathing. Smiling, I turned to the newcomer. 'Hello, Aunt Brank.'
Her face twisted into what she probably thought was a smile. In my opinion, she needed to check the lexical definition.
'I hope...hope you will be...will be very...' Swallowing hard, she fought with herself for a long moment, then finally squeezed out the word that went against her very nature: '...happy.'
'Thanks so much, Aunty!' Throwing my arms around her, I hugged her tightly, because I knew it would annoy the hell out of her. 'And don't worry, I'm sure I'll be very happy'
After all, failing any other sources of happiness, I can always drop by Uncle Bufford's place and stuff some frogs into your boots, for old times' sake. Ah, those were the days...
But then, the current days were shaping up to be pretty amazing, too.
Well-wisher after well-wisher came up to bow and curtsy. Patsy uttered a few friendly death threats against Mr Ambrose, and Ella threw herself into my arms, letting go a waterfall of tears of happiness. Soon enough, it was time to depart. As was dictated by tradition, my aunt and uncle marched ahead, and Karim, in the role of best and broadest man, brought up the rear. We were just approaching the church door, when...
'It's time, girls! Aim and fire!'
A big load of rice and seeds smacked into my rear. Narrowing my eyes, I threw a glance at Patsy & Co, who were grinning wickedly.
'Reload, everybody!' Amy wiggled her eyebrows significantly at my dear husband. 'And make sure you don't miss your shot!'
Cheers went up from my so-called friends as they reached for new ammunition. Sighing, I turned to Mr Ambrose.
'I have never really understood this particular tradition.' I shook my head. 'It's so silly.'
'It is a fertility ritual,' Mr Ambrose said coolly. 'The seeds are supposed to improve the bride's chances of getting pregâ'
'Yikes!' Yelping, I ducked down, trying to evade any more of the flying projectiles. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Patsy and Amy snickering. Those sneaky devils! 'Move! Let's get out of here!'
'Nervous?'
'Not on your sweet life! Move!'
To the cheers and claps of friends and family, we dashed out of the church. Outside, people had been busy. A number of long tables had been set up on the meadow in front of the church, tables which were bent under the weight of cakes, pies, huge mugs of juice and ale and all other sorts of delicious country fare.
'Shouldn't we have invited everyone to the mansion?' I whispered.
Mr Ambrose squeezed my hand. 'This way, the villagers will be much more comfortable. They wanted to contribute something to your special day.'
I smiled up at him. 'And, this way, you don't have to spend a penny on the food.'
'Indeed.'
'Well, under normal circumstances, I'd remonstrate with you, but...' My amused eyes swept over all the noble lords, ladies and gentlemen who were part of the wedding party. They were looking queasy as they frantically tried to clean imaginary dirt off the rough wooden benches and tables. Several pampered and powdered ladies were holding perfumed handkerchiefs in front of their faces to ward off the terrible odour of fresh country air. I grinned. 'I think a picnic in the open could be a fun wedding supper.'
Mr Ambrose and I settled down at a large table in the middle of the meadow. Smiling matrons bustled between the tables, serving us tasty pies, roasted slabs of meat, juice and wine and much, much more. Once everyone was busy eating, I leaned close to Mr Ambrose.
"Now you're my husband," I whispered, leaning closer. "Now you have to tell me. What's Enfield?"
Mr Ambrose cocked his head. "Asking about another man on your wedding day? Shame on you, Mrs Ambrose!"
"So it's a person? Who is he? What does he have to do withâmmm!"
My words were abruptly cut off as Mr Ambrose plucked a strawberry from a nearby pie and deposited it between my lips.
"Mmm! Mmm!"
"Interesting. If I'd known it was this easy to silence you I would have used that method before."
"Mmm...!" I swallowed. "You can't justâ"
That was when his lips replaced the strawberry.
"Nnnmmm!"
"Although," he whispered against my lips, "I think I like this method even better."
"Mmmm....nnnmm...!"
So did I, damn him! This was infuriating! I had something important to ask him! I had....
What was it I had to ask again?
He deepened the kiss, and it was suddenly very hard to remember.
Only when Amy & Co started wolf-whistling did I slowly awake from my daze. I glanced over at the three and saw Cora sitting beside Lord John, and Jenny beside the vicar. As for Amyâshe was sitting beside too many gentlemen to count, trying desperately to fend them off. Sticking my fingers between my lips, I sent a wolf-whistle right back and had the distinct pleasure of seeing three hardened ladies of the night blush to the roots of their hair.
Yay! Victory!
The next hour or so flew by in a whirlwind of colour, laughter and delicious food. Everybody stuffed their faces until they were near to bursting, and Uncle Bufford even did the same with boxes underneath the table. Every now and again, one of my friends rose to her feet, uttering a toast carefully calculated to make me blush. Even so, time rushed by and, soon, the sun touched the horizon and the long shadows of trees reached across the meadow.
Leaning back, I folded my hands across my stomach and uttered a contented sigh.
'I think it's time to retire to our home for the day, don't you?'
'Yes.' I yawned. 'I'm rather tired.'
Mr Ambrose's eyes seemed to flare in the darkness. 'I'm not. Not at all.'
My brow furrowed, as I struggled to keep my eyes open. What had that been about? What did he mean?
'You there!' Rising to his feet while keeping a steadying arm around my shoulders to support me, Mr Ambrose gestured to one of the boys who had been scurrying about between the tables, distributing dessert. 'Get the carriage ready, will you?'
'Yes, My Lord! Right away, My Lord!'
Soon enough, the carriage rolled up the gravel road and came to a stop a few steps away.
'Come on.' Mr Ambrose's arm tightened around me and helped me to my feet. I yawned once again, unable to resist. As he gently led me to the carriage, whistles and catcalls rose into the air behind us. I blinked drowsily. What was up? Why would my friends be whistling?
'My Lady?'
Someone held open the coach door for me. With a little push from Mr Ambrose, I hefted myself into the carriage, and snuggled into the comfortable seat. Mr Ambrose climbed in after me, but, for some reason, this time none of the others joined us. What about the bridesmaids and my relatives?
'What are they waiting for?' I yawned, puzzled.
'They aren't coming.'
Blinking, I glanced over at Mr Ambrose. 'Why?'
Closing the carriage door behind him, Mr Ambrose turned towards me and reached up to touch my face. 'I assume it is because they wish to give us some privacy, Mrs Ambrose.'
Mrs Ambrose...
At the sound of that name, I was abruptly wide awake. Scrambling to sit up straight, I dragged in a deep breath.
'Who says I'll be the one to change my name?' I raised my chin. 'Maybe you shouldâ'
His lips cut me off mid-sentence. Instinctively, I reached for him, but his hands enveloped my wrists and, slamming them into the padded backrest of the bench, he pushed me back against it. Son of a bachelor! Did he think he could just kiss my protest out of the way? Unless I wanted to be trampled underfoot in this marriage, I had to stand up to him! I had to...had to...
'Did you want to say something, Mrs Ambrose?' Mr Ambrose growled.
'You...you should let go ofâ'
Abruptly, his lips sealed mine again. He kissed me without remorse, and I let him, let him in, in all the ways you could imagine. Warmth spread through my chest as his arms wrapped around me and he pulled me against his chest roughly. When his mouth finally lifted from mine again, I gasped for breath.
'Now, tell me again...' Dark, ocean-coloured eyes bored into mine. 'What did you want to say to me?'
Grabbing him by the short hairs, I stared fiercely into his eyes. 'I wanted to say that you should kiss me again!'
His eyes glittered. 'Adequate.'
And he proceeded to show me exactly how 'adequate' it was. Only when the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the manor did I come back to the real world. And with the real world, Mr Ambrose's earlier words came flooding over me.
'They wish to give us some privacy.'
Privacy.
Privacy for...
My heart began thudding wildly.
What the heck is the matter with you, Lilly? It's not as if this is the first time you'll do this! You know perfectly well what will happen!
Yes, I did. And yet...in a way, I didn't. This wasn't just a night I would be spending with a man. It would be a night I would be spending with my husband. My very first night as a married woman.
With a final crunch of gravel, the coach came to a halt. Not even really knowing why, I shifted away from the door, further into the interior of the coach.
'Lillian?'
The way he spoke my name tugged at my heart. Moments later, an unbelievably gentle granite hand cupped my cheek and turned my face towards his. Two dark, unfathomably deep, sea-coloured eyes met mine.
'Lillian.'
Once again, that was all he said. Just my name. But it was enough. Instinctively, I turned my body into his, snuggling against his chest.
'What is it?' he whispered, stroking a thumb down my cheek.
What it was? It was him. It was everything.
There was only one thing I could say. Gazing up at him with love and trust in my eyes, I told him: 'Let's go home.'
Wordlessly, he nodded. Sliding his arms around me, he lifted me off the bench and, kicking the door open, stepped out into the beautiful sunset. Light as red as rubies flooded over the countryside and painted the façade of the mansion in warm tones. With one long stride, he stepped down out of the carriage, carrying me clasped tightly in his arms. Effortlessly, he strode towards the front doorâwhich was saying something, considering my generous padding in various areas. It felt strangely wonderful to be carried through the air as if I were a precious treasure.
Bad Lilly! Bad! Has your spine turned to butter? You should keep your independence, remember? You have two legs of your own!
I was just opening my mouth, wondering what to say, or if to say anything at allâwhen all of a sudden, Mr Ambrose stopped in front of the threshold and, to my total surprise, set me down.
I blinked up at him in surprise. What was going on?
Cocking his head, he pushed open the door to the manor and, gazing deep into my eyes, held out a hand to me. In his eyes, I could see reflected all my needs and wants, and secret thoughts.
'Why don't we step inside together?'
A smile spread across my face. I could see it in his eyes. He loved me. He truly loved me. And, much, much more importantly: he knew me.
I took his hand and, side by side, we stepped across the threshold. When we reached the stairs, I grinned up to him.
'Now you may carry me.'
He cocked his head. 'I may, may I?'
'Yes, Sir.'
Without another word, he swept my legs out from under me. Snuggling into his hard and yet oh- so-comfortable chest, I let myself be carried up the creaking wooden stairs while long, elegant fingers stroked my hair.
'So...Your quest for equality keeps you from being carried over the threshold, but not from being carried up the stairs?'
'Of course.' Nodding into his chest, I confirmed this rather obvious point. 'Thresholds are sexist. Stairs aren't. Besides, my feet are hurting from these darn shoes!'
'I shall commit your pearls of wisdom to memory.'
'Good idea.' Patting his hand, I snuggled more tightly against him. 'You do that.'
With determined strides, he made his way down the corridor. Soon, we reached the door to our room. For that was what it was now: our room, in our house. As the realization settled deep in my heart, I felt warmth blossom inside me. I had never really had a home. Oh, sure, I had lived at Uncle Bufford's place, and, at a few rare and special occasions, he had actually made me feel welcome. And I had Ella and my friends. But having a place that was undoubtedly and unequivocally mine...
That was something completely and utterly new to me.
Yet now, I had a place. A home. We had a home.
I heard a creak as Mr Ambrose pushed open the door to our room. A few long, slow strides ate up the distance. Gently, almost tenderly, he lowered me onto the bed. Heart pounding, I lay there, gazing up at the tall, chiselled figure of Mr Rikkard Ambrose standing above me.
Reaching down, Mr Ambrose touched my face.
'Finally...mine!' His voice was a demand. An order. A law of nature.
'Chauvinistic son of a bachelor!' I tried to sound indignant. I really tried. Yet somehow I ended up grinning like a lovestruck loon, my eyes shining. 'Women aren't anyone's possessionsâand I most certainly don't belong to you!'
Leaning down towards me, his fists pushed into the mattress on either side, caging me in. His eyes burned into me with cold fire. 'Indeed?'
'Yes!'
'Well, well...' Smoothly sliding onto the bed, he lowered himself until his face was only inches away from mine. 'Then I'll have to prove you wrong!'
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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,
Yay! "Hunting for Silence" with extra chapters is now available as an ebook on Amazon Kindle! Paperbacks and ebooks in other stores will follow soon!
And next week, you'll get the chapter you've all been waiting for... ;)
Yours Truly
Sir Rob
P.S.
About the fact that there was only one ring in the ceremony - In past days, such as the Victorian Age, only the man gave a ring to the woman. This was because, back then, the gift of the ring wasn't so much a romantic gesture of unity as a very real economic element of marriage, like a small insurance policy or widow's pension.