Chapter 30

Ignorant of these schemes to do her grave injury, Georgiana stood in silk and lace before the altar in the cathedral of the North and took Gabriel to be her lawfully wedded husband. Hal gave her away, and Cassandra and Miss FitzHenry were her matron of honour and bridesmaid. Hymns were sung by small boys with angelic voices, and a surely superfluous number of clergymen in their best robes officiated. Nobody would ever be able to say later that the Ninth Duke and his bride were anything other than legally bound one to the other. Half the inhabitants of York and a fair number of fortunate visitors had crowded in to witness the spectacle; the cavernous building was large enough to receive them all with room to spare. Small girls threw rose petals, and all the ladies present cried, apart from the bride herself, who smiled mechanically or looked suitably serious at the appropriate moments and felt numb through it all, as though someone other than Georgiana Pendlebury were participating in the ceremony. The Minster was populated by a great number of stone statues, silent witness to the important event taking place beside and below them, and Georgie felt herself to be one of them, rather than a living, breathing woman. It was possible, she thought in a disinterested fashion, that she was behaving slightly oddly, for she could not help but see that her brothers and her aunt occasionally shot worried blue glances at her, and at each other.

She endured the ceremony in some type of trance, and in a trance received the congratulations of her family, and of the assembled strangers of all ranks of society. Her daze took her through the crowded streets – the distance to the house in Petergate was too short to require that carriages should be brought up, and it was barely raining at all – and up to the steps of the mansion, where the assembled servants awaited them with beaming faces and hearty congratulations.

It is possible that the new Duchess would have floated through the rest of the day in this peculiarly detached state of mind, had not a disturbance before the doors of her new home caused her preternatural calm to crack, and then to shatter into a thousand pieces.

A small crowd had gathered outside the building to see the newlyweds enter. Among them was a most respectable-seeming couple in their middle years, and a young lady who appeared to be their daughter, for she resembled the older lady greatly in her honey-blonde prettiness. The couple seemed embarrassed, or in some other manner distressed, and plainly they were attempting to persuade the young lady to quit the place in some haste and come away, but she refused, growing visibly agitated, and it could be seen that in fact tears were pouring unheeded down her pale cheeks. Georgie's attention was drawn most particularly to the group when she heard Lady Blanche exclaim, in low but deeply anxious tones, ‘Good God, Gabriel, it is Isabella and her parents! What can they possibly be doing here, and on such a day?'

The last of her detachment deserted her when she saw her new husband's demeanour change as he took in the sight; he was always pale, but she could have sworn she saw sweat break out on his brow, and an expression almost of horror cross his face. It was a fleeting impression, and then it was gone, and he assumed a masklike appearance. He was silent for a pregnant moment, and then he said, ‘We must greet them, Blanche – ask them to come in and join us. They are family, after all.'

‘I suppose we must,' said his sister, moving forward and saying in tones of welcome that rang entirely false in Georgie's ears, ‘Lady Ash – Isabella, my dear sister – Mr and Mrs Richmond! What a surprise to see you, but how fortunate! You find us celebrating my brother's marriage; we are just come from the Minster this instant. Duchess, may I present to you my dear sister-in-law and yours too, Lady Ashby, and her parents, Mrs Richmond, Mr Richmond, from Harrogate?'

Georgiana gathered her wits together and said all that was proper, and the Richmonds bowed and curtseyed, and pressed somewhat incoherent congratulations upon her. They had not had the least idea – they were so sorry to intrude – such a happy day. All this was to little effect, as their daughter paid not the least attention to any remark addressed to her, but continued to stand silent beside them, tears still running unheeded down her face, staring at the newlywed couple with an expression something akin to horror. She was suddenly possessed by a strong conviction that Lady Ashby was about to fall in a dead swoon at her feet, and she thought that Blanche was aware of it too, for she became urgent in her insistence that the trio come inside and made themselves comfortable. Surely they would at least take a glass of wine? But the Richmonds were equally firm in their refusal to do so; they could not possibly intrude on such an occasion, they said. They did not mean to be discourteous, but they hoped that Lady Blanche and the Duchess would understand that they must instantly return to their inn, as their daughter had sadly overexerted herself in walking about and was somewhat unwell. Gabriel gave some almost imperceptible sign to his sister, and she shot him a glance of complete comprehension, then drew the little family away, taking Lady Ashby's right arm firmly in hers as Miss FitzHenry took the left. The Richmonds followed helplessly behind in their wake.

A small, uncomfortable silence threatened to develop, but it was mercifully broken by Lord Irlam, who suggested in a practical fashion that they ceased standing about in the street like so many stocks for people to gape at, but instead went inside, for the rain was coming on stronger every second.

Before Georgie well realised what he was about, the Duke lifted her into his strong arms and carried her across the threshold, to the cheers of the household. A moment later she found herself alone with him, in a room she had never entered before but which she supposed to be his study. He was still looking white and shaken, and said, ‘Well, that was an edifying spectacle to grace our wedding day. Take off your wet things, Georgie, and I will explain. I fear it is not a pretty tale.'