Chapter Ten
They reached Gretna Green the morning of their fourth day on the road. Twenty minutes later, she stood beside Bracebridge at the blacksmith’s shop. The anvil priest gave them a sloppy smile and took a drink from a flask he’d withdrawn from his coat pocket. He winked at them both, then at Frieda, whom Emily had convinced to sit quietly.
“Hurry,” Bracebridge said with a glance at Frieda. “It won’t last long.”
Panic scrambled Emily’s thoughts and turned her stomach into a hollow, acid pit. She struggled to regulate her breathing. Her life was about to change completely.
“You’re not the first impatient groom I’ve had here,” the priest said, “and you won’t be the last.”
Another couple waited across the room, arms around each other, both smiling. They made a handsome couple. While Emily tried not to stare, the gentleman brought his future wife close and tenderly kissed her cheek. When they separated, the other bride gazed into her lover’s eyes, leaning closer and resting a hand on his chest.
“Get on with it,” Bracebridge said in a voice that sent a chill through the room. He brought Emily closer. “I intend to marry this woman.”
“Go on, then,” the priest said to Emily.
“I declare my intention to marry this man.”
“About blessed time.” The priest laughed out loud, then completed his register, handed Bracebridge a barely legible certificate, and it was done. They were bound in matrimony.
Married. Her stomach turned somersaults. She was married and, by God, this was both a miracle and the biggest mistake of her life.
The couple across the room started toward the “priest,” but not before the gentleman brought his love to him and kissed her again.
To Frieda, the couple’s approach was a certain sign of a new friendship. The dog whined and wriggled with enough forward motion to nearly pull Emily off her feet. For that reason, she was entirely unprepared when Bracebridge leaned over her. He pressed his mouth to hers in a quick, light kiss that landed nearer her ear because she had been unprepared and distracted.
“Let’s be off, then,” he said without any acknowledgment of the awkwardness. He reached over and took the leash from her. It was just as well, for he put Frieda on his far side, and when she attempted to get around him to greet her new friends, he simply leaned into her and bumped her away with a sharp, “No!”
At the door, Emily gave a final glance over her shoulder. The other lovers were before the anvil priest, their arms around each other’s waists. The woman rested her head on his shoulder. They had become husband and wife in the time it had taken for Bracebridge and her to cross the room. “May you have a hundred years of happiness together,” she said softly.
The young woman heard her and smiled at them with unadulterated joy. “Thank you, ma’am.” She curtseyed. “I wish you the same.”
Bracebridge opened the door, and they exited to find the clouds ominously dark and the air sharp with cold. He increased his stride toward his rig, and she did the same to keep up. The boy Bracebridge had hired to watch the horses came to his feet on their arrival, and more coins exchanged hands.
“Up you go, girl.” Bracebridge lifted the leash. After all their days on the road, Frieda had learned how to jump in. When the dog was settled, Bracebridge assisted Emily, then took his seat. In silence, they began their return south.
Those dark clouds kept their promise of wet. An hour past Carlisle, a light rain began to fall. Before long, the drizzle became a steady beat.
The rain continued more-or-less unabated until four days later when they reached the Nottinghamshire inn where they’d passed the first night of their journey north. The post was just leaving as they arrived, obliging them to wait for the courtyard to be clear. Emily covered her ears at the din of the departure: blaring horns, shouting, and all the noise of a carriage full of passengers and their luggage.
Their journey south was remarkable only for the fact that they did not argue. They shared a bed at night, and though she was as giddy as ever when he slid between the sheets with her, there was none of the passion of that first night. In the main, everything felt . . . perfunctory, and she did not know how to break through to him, or even whether she should.
Once the spectacle of the departing post was at an end, Bracebridge directed them to the interior courtyard.
Though it was not raining at present, it had been recently, for gutters continued to flow, and water dripped from trees and eaves. Bracebridge opened the gig door for her, helping her down while reaching for the umbrella he’d bought.
Like Frieda, Emily was now an experienced traveler under adverse conditions. She jumped from the step to save him the necessity of touching her and took back the umbrella. “Thank you, my lord.” Frieda jumped down, too, landing in a puddle she then lapped at. Bracebridge extended his arm to Emily, but she avoided the contact by putting a hand to her low back and arching. “I’m battered head to toe.”
There. She’d broken the intractable silence of the past two days.
He acknowledged that with a nod. “The weather was no help.”
What a relief. The Battle of the Long Silence was over. Those were the first words they’d exchanged in the past twenty-four hours at least.
“It’s been a long day.”
He nodded. Ringlets of black hair were plastered to his cheeks and temples. She resisted the temptation to push that wet hair off his cheeks. He would not appreciate fondness from her, of that she was certain. He gazed steadily into her eyes without any sign he cared what she thought or how she felt. “I must see to my cattle.”
She gave him a small curtsey, gripping Frieda’s leash in one hand and her umbrella in the other. The very best wife. “Shall I order you something hot to eat?”
But he’d already turned away, hand raised to catch the attention of one of the grooms. A young man already had a hand on the traces, intending to take the rig to the stables and change the horses for Bracebridge’s original pair.
Emily hesitated. He hadn’t actually told her to wait for him. Nor had he asked her to go inside without him. Did that mean his business with the horses would be brief enough she ought to wait here with Frieda?
Bracebridge took their bags from the boot. Along with the umbrella, he’d also bought her a pair of gloves, a warm, thick cloak, several useful and much-appreciated toiletries, and a valise of her own. Uncertain whether she ought to wait for him, she tapped the tip of the umbrella against the paving stone. She could always leave the matter undecided by taking Frieda for a walk. Before she could, however, the tavern door opened so hard it rattled windows.
A tall gentleman in a heavy greatcoat exited, unconcerned with whether he might have damaged the door. He took three steps into the courtyard, then broke into a run. Her stomach dropped to the bottom of the earth when he shouted, “Bracebridge!”
Aldreth.
Bracebridge had not heard him. He remained with his back to the inn, focused on the groom. She stepped into Aldreth’s path, but so intent was he on Bracebridge, he did not see her. Frieda, torn between the opportunity to greet Aldreth or rejoin Bracebridge, shivered with indecision.
She called out, “My lord!”
Bracebridge gifted her with one of his dead expressions, but then he saw and heard Aldreth. Too late, though. Her brother-in-law grabbed Bracebridge by the shoulders. He looked wrecked, near panic. “Is Emily with you?”
Bracebridge pushed him gently away. “She is.”
“Where?”
Bracebridge extended his hand in Emily’s direction with a subtle come here motion of his fingers.
Aldreth whirled, then he saw her standing with her umbrella in one hand and Frieda’s leash in the other. Her mouth went dry, and her stomach hollowed out. In three strides, he stood before her. He threw his arms around her at the same time she tried to curtsy. Her umbrella clattered to the ground. Frieda greeted him like a long-lost friend, wiggling, barking, and practically dancing.
“Thank God you are safe. Thank God.” He took a step back and fired off a series of questions. “Where have you been? What were you thinking? Your sister has been beside herself with worry from the moment we learned you were missing.”
His relief and anxiety brought home more of the consequences of her marriage. Aldreth and her sister had been worried, legitimately and deeply so. What had she done? Regret and guilt threatened her composure. She took her time retrieving her umbrella. By the time she’d straightened, she was confident she presented her usual self. “Good day, Aldreth.”
“Where did you go? Why so far away?” He gestured at the coaching inn. “Tell me, please, please, that you did not take the post here. Were you attempting to reach Cynssyr? He’s not in Wales. He’s at Satterfield. If you meant to escape your father, you could have come to Rosefeld. Good God. I’ve been so worried!”
“I never intended to worry anyone. I do apologize for that. To you and Mary.”
“And everyone else who did not know where you were.” He hugged her tight again, clutching her as if he thought she might vanish from his arms. He set her back a half step but kept a firm grip on her shoulders. He looked at the dog, still wriggling with joy. “Frieda. Sit.”
Frieda did no such thing. Emily tugged on the leash and managed to distract the dog by rubbing her ears. The groom Bracebridge had been talking to was adjusting the bridle of one of the horses still hitched to the gig, listening avidly.
“Mrs. Elliot came to Rosefeld,” Aldreth said.
“You know about Sinclair and Davener, then?” Bracebridge said in a bored tone.
Aldreth shot a look at Emily then returned his attention to Bracebridge. “Once Mr. Rachagorla provided additional details about what transpired, I had my suspicions.”
“I did not want to marry him,” she said.
“All the more reason, Emily, for you have to come to Rosefeld rather than haring off to Wales. In any event, I went to the Cooperage to fetch you, only to be told you were not there, nor were you with the Glynns or with anyone else, nor at home when I returned to the Cooperage several hours later. And you”—he pointed at Bracebridge—“were also nowhere to be found. Mr. Rachagorla thought you might have returned to London, as did I, to be honest.”
“Plainly not,” Bracebridge said in a wry tone.
Aldreth waved his hands. “Not that it matters. I cannot possibly repay you for your quick thinking. Thank God you intercepted her on her journey to Wales. I shudder to think what might have happened had you not. Allow me to repeat, Emily, that Cynssyr is not in Wales. I don’t know what you were thinking.” Aldreth lowered his voice. “I would not have permitted your father to force you into a marriage you do not want.” He turned to Bracebridge again. “How far had she got before you caught her up?”
“Not far,” he replied.
“Not far?” Aldreth frowned. “How could it have been not far? Was she here all this time?” His gesture included the coaching inn. “Is that it, Emily? You’ve been here all along?”
“No, Aldreth.”
He lifted his hat, then resettled it. “I don’t suppose it matters much. Good God, it’s been a week. If not here, where have you been? You could have traveled to Wales and back in the time you’ve been gone.”
Again, Bracebridge extended a hand to her. This time, she took it. “Wales,” he said with a dark smile. “Or Scotland.”
“Yes, but—” Aldreth looked at her, then at Bracebridge. “Scotland?” he said slowly.
“Yes.” One corner of Bracebridge’s mouth twitched, and he brought Emily closer. “Gretna Green, to be specific.”
Silence bore down on them, and Emily braced herself for a storm. “You are married?”
“My lord,” Bracebridge said with a glance at the inn. “Shall we go inside to discuss this?”
“You’ve married Emily?” Under different circumstances, Aldreth’s confusion and disbelief might have been amusing.
“Yes,” she said because Bracebridge only shrugged, and Aldreth clearly had not caught up with actual events.
Aldreth blanched. “If this is a jest, I tell you I am not amused. It’s unbecoming of you, Emily, and Bracebridge—you ought to know better.”
Bracebridge shoved his hands into his greatcoat pockets. “Let’s not discuss this here, my lord.”
Aldreth glanced at the groom too studiously examining the bridle of the lead horse. His eyes had turned to chips of blue ice. His hand on her shoulder tightened. “Indeed.”
“After you, Lady Bracebridge,” Bracebridge said when they reached the tavern door. He took Frieda’s leash from her and opened the door.
Moments later the three of them were in a hastily evacuated private dining room that smelled of beef, boiled potatoes and old beer. The table glistened with the aftermath of a hasty cleaning. Aldreth stood sideways with one hand pressed flat to the wall. He surveyed her head to toe, then pointed at the table. “Sit. Both of you.”
Bracebridge did not comply, and neither did she. Frieda, however, oblivious to the tension, sat.
Emily’s dread of the coming lecture ramped up. Her brother-in-law was rarely angry. He was everything a gentleman ought to be: well-mannered, honorable, and dutiful. His character was unassailable, and he had always been unfailingly kind to her. She would go to her grave never understanding why she’d fallen in love with Bracebridge instead of Aldreth, who had for so long drawn the hopes and dreams of the young ladies of Bartley Green.
“Good dog,” Emily whispered.
“Emily,” Aldreth said softly. “Is this true?”
She sat down. Aldreth was the brother she’d never had, then her sister’s husband, and he had taken all the Sinclair sisters into his heart, and—she’d not realized until now how grateful she was to him for his kindness to them all. And now she was married, and he was so obviously disappointed in her and distressed.
Bracebridge unbuttoned his greatcoat and sprawled on the other end of the bench from her. “You may not interrogate my wife.”
Aldreth’s mouth thinned, but he did not look away from her. “Your objection is noted.”
“We were married four days ago. In Gretna Green,” Bracebridge said.
Aldreth looked to his right, then his left, then at his feet. “What have you done?” he said in a low voice, and Emily wasn’t entirely certain whether he was talking to her, Bracebridge, or himself.
Bracebridge reached for her hand. She squeezed his fingers, then regretted the impulse. Too late. Done. No matter what she thought or wanted, her life was in Bracebridge’s control. She forced herself to breathe slowly. Sheer madness had possessed her to agree to marry him over the anvil, and now the courses of her life and his were forever altered.
His fingers curled around hers, and that careless touch, which she knew had no meaning other than to have Aldreth take notice, nevertheless made her heart turn over. Even through her gloves, his touch thrilled. “I married her. You require no information but that.”
Aldreth released a shuddering breath as he turned to the wall and propped his hands against the plaster surface. He kept his head down while he took several more breaths. At last, though, he turned around to address Bracebridge once again. “How far had she got when you overtook her?”
“You should have seen him, Aldreth,” she said. “He hit Mr. Davener on the chin, and Mr. Davener went down. Outside the Cooperage. If it hadn’t been for him, I would have had to make a terrible scene at the vicarage.”
“Em,” Bracebridge said. “You needn’t tell him anything.”
“You weren’t going to marry Mr. Davener.”
“Of course not.”
Aldreth stared at the ceiling for a count of five. “You could have brought her back to Rosefeld.”
“I could have.”
He spread his fingers wide, as if resisting the temptation to make fists. “Why?” he whispered. “Why, when you do not like her?”
Before the conversation could go a direction that would likely lead to unforgivable words, she said, “I, too, am grateful to Lord Bracebridge.” Was that a lie? She wasn’t certain. She pressed her hands flat to the table. Bracebridge had bought her the gloves she wore: grey kid, soft as butter. “However,” she said softly, “though I am not unaware of the circumstance you mention, it does not signify.” How she wanted that to be true. “Bracebridge and I understand each other perfectly.”
For too long, Aldreth stood silent. A flurry of emotions passed over his face. Frustration, relief, and pity. Then he looked straight at Bracebridge and said, “You did this for Anne.”
Bracebridge lifted Emily’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand, but he had one eye on Aldreth while he did. “My reasons are irrelevant yet fully satisfactory.”
“What if he did?” she asked. Both men were taken aback by her vehemence. “Do you imagine me unaware of that?” She pushed to her feet. “I’ve had enough of the two of you talking over me as if I don’t exist. Bracebridge is satisfied with his reasons. I am satisfied with mine. Please believe that is true.”
Aldreth took another deep breath before he replied. “I have only ever wanted the best for both of you. You are aware, you say. Then you must also know my opinion is that two people whom I love dearly have made a bad bargain.”
Ultimately, Aldreth was right. And both of them knew it.