They went to church.

Of course, they did. It was what was required of a young man and a young woman who wished to promise, before God Himself, that they intended to walk together, hand in hand, for the rest of their days.

And of course, it was the Reverend Miller who performed the office. Though the relationship between him, his daughter and her intended remained deeply uneasy, it would have looked too peculiar if he had not. None of them wanted to give the village something else to gossip about. He had married a great many young couples in all his life as a clergyman, but Charity suspected that never before had he done so with such a profound mingled sense of pride and shame.

Pride in his daughter — the young woman before him who stood so radiant alongside the upright figure of the young man who was now her husband. Shame — how could he not feel ashamed, when there was so much to feel ashamed about?

But no more of the Reverend Miller. Let it suffice to say that he would spend many hours in prayer and reflection, many hours thinking how best to ask the forgiveness of his daughter, and many more still, considering how he should face Mary Warwick and little Freddie when he met them in the next life.

But let us turn our attention to happier things — to the couple standing at the altar, and the other couple who sit in the congregation, illuminated by the glow of their own soon to come marital joy.

Of course, they were required to go to church. And, of course, they were required to do all the things that a pair of newlyweds must do in the hour or so following the service: accepting the good wishes of the community, nodding, smiling and bowing at all those who had so recently cast them out, only to greet them again with open arms as it became convenient to do so.

It is scarcely any wonder, therefore, that they were eager to steal away as soon as they possibly could. And now that they were wed in the eyes of God, in the eyes of the law, and in the eyes of any prying gossip which might have wished to speculate on their actions, they were free to do quite as they pleased.

And so, hand in hand, they walked away from the church, leaving behind them promises that they would very soon follow the rest of the party back to Lawley Hall for the wedding breakfast. They walked through the lanes where they had laughed together and feared separately, where they had contemplated the impossibilities of their situation.

They walked up the hill, Charity lifting the white hem of her dress carefully so that it would not be soiled by green stains from the still-dewy grass.

They walked, remarking now and then on the beauty of the day, the state of their present happiness, the challenges and joys that were to come in the future. It was a great delight to both of them to speak in perfect freedom with one another, the way that only a husband and a wife are permitted to talk to one another.

They walked until they had reached that little grove, the place where they had set eyes upon one another for the first time since they were children.

It felt as though they had come home at that moment. For both, that spot was a true home, a place where they could be themselves.

There they exchanged the vows that were particular and secret to them, the vows that were not included in the Church of England wedding service, but were the promises that they both felt that they needed to make to one another.

They vowed that they would always treat one another as equals, that his wealthy background would never be compared unkindly to her humble one. They promised that they would listen to each other and be each other’s most trusted advisor and that such confidence would not be destroyed by peculiar notions of what men or women could or could not do.

They promised that they would always be honest. They promised that they would never believe any lies about each other.

When their vows were complete, they kissed for the first time as husband and wife, and both agreed that married kisses were significantly superior to unmarried ones, and undertook to share a great many more in the future — every day, in fact, for the rest of their lives.

They were reluctant to leave the grove — this place where they had always felt most able to speak in perfect freedom and comfort, without the concern for what was right or proper in the eyes of others. But the time had come that they needed to return to their wedding duties, and of course, there would be plenty of time for talking later.

As they began to walk away from the grove and along the well-trodden path to Lawley Hall, Adam turned to his wife and said, “You know, my dear, there have been a great many times in which I thought that you were the most beautiful thing I could ever see, that it could not possibly bring me any more pleasure to behold you. Well, I fear that all those times have been eclipsed once again by the way you look today.

“Perhaps I must learn to doubt my own judgement on that score, and understand that it is always possible for me to grow more delighted by you every day.”

“I cannot speak to any estimations of my own appearance,” Charity replied, “and in truth it matters little to me, except in that it pleases you. But I should be very glad to apply that principle to other things. For example, I find it impossible to believe that I could possibly grow any happier than I am today. But…”

Here she squeezed her beloved’s hand, and looked up at him with a radiant smile. “I believe that with you at my side, my happiness will always grow greater by the day, for all our lives.”