21 Crossing The Border

I an woke in languorous contentment. He had found Izzy again and all was well with the world. Somehow, while he slept, the day had drifted away and night was upon them, although what the hour was he could not say.

He stretched arms and legs, savouring the warmth of the bed. But then his wandering hand met… nothing. She was gone. He sat bolt upright, and cried out in panic. "Izzy?"

A face materialised from the shadows, illumined from one side by a candle flame. "I am here."

"Oh, thank God! For a moment I thought—"

"That I had run away again?"

"Yes! You will not… will you?" He heard the pleading tone in his voice, but he was helpless to suppress it. He could not bear to lose her, not again. He must never lose her again.

She set the candle on the bedside table, then sat on the edge of the bed, taking his hand. Smiling gently at him, she said, "I will not run away from you ever again, Ian Farramont. You are an astonishing man, do you realise that? How could you not tell me how you felt?"

"I thought you knew," he said, surprised. "Why else would I have married you?"

"For sons," she said at once. "You were almost thirty, and you decided it was time to secure the succession. That was what I assumed, anyway. And you went to my father after three days , Ian! We were introduced on the Tuesday, and you asked to pay your addresses on the Friday. You could not possibly have fallen in love with me in three days."

"Very true. It was a lot less than that… three seconds, perhaps."

She chuckled and shook her head. "What nonsense you talk!"

"It is true. I fell headlong in love with you the instant I saw you and it was a whole six days before I talked to your father. I first saw you the Saturday before that. Robert Osborn had met you at some rout or other, and he knew you were going to be driving in Hyde Park that day, so he dragged me along. And there you were, in a barouche with Josie and your mother and your aunt, Lady Tarvin. You wore a blue hat with a curling brim and a huge feather around it, and when Osborn waved to you, you turned your head and smiled at him and… I decided there and then that I wanted to marry you."

"Did you? Truly?"

"I did. That mischievous smile and your eyes! So much delightful expression in those lovely eyes. How could I help falling in love? I told Osborn as much that night, and asked him if it would cause a rift between us, if we were both pursuing the same girl."

"What did he say? Did he mind?"

"No. Or at least, not as much as I would have expected. He knows his own worth, after all. He had all the roguish charm, and you were already looking favourably on him, whereas I have red hair and all the charm of a stick of furniture. You never even noticed me that day in the great press of admirers surrounding the carriage."

"I confess I did not. I remember Robert… and the hat! It got wet one day when it came on to rain unexpectedly and was ruined."

"Everyone remembered Osborn," he said easily. "I saw you again the next day at church, but again, you did not see me. On Monday, I saw you dancing at a house in Grosvenor Square, I forget whose, but I was too timid to approach you. Then on the Tuesday, I got Osborn to introduce me at last, at some Venetian breakfast somewhere."

"It rained. Another hat ruined."

"You love your hats! I swear you spend more at the milliner than anywhere else. On the Wednesday, I met you at a ball for one of the Bucknell girls."

"Lady Grace. She is a lovely creature."

"She is nothing to you, and too placid by half. I like a bit of life in a woman. I tried to dance with you, but you were engaged for every dance already, so I brought you some lemonade instead. Anything to be near you."

"Did you? I cannot remember that."

"We exchanged three words. You asked me where I lived, and I said, ‘Stonywell, near Nottingham.' That was the full extent of our conversation. On Thursday, I was determined to dance with you, so I was almost the first at the Carrbridges' ball, and then stood by the steps into the ballroom until you appeared. I had my dance, and I was so delirious with joy that I slept not a wink that night. So as soon as I decently could that morning, I called upon your father and asked his permission to court you. He must have thought I was insane, but I did not care. I knew what I wanted."

"You were the first, you know," she said, reaching out to stroke his face. "Papa came through to the breakfast parlour, because you were so early that we were still at breakfast, and said, ‘Congratulations, Izzy, you have just received your first offer.' I said, ‘Who is it, Papa?' and when he said it was Lord Farramont—"

"You said, ‘Who is Lord Farramont?' I imagine."

"I did!" She giggled. "But he just said, ‘Red hair,' and then I remembered you, of course. It is your great distinction, you know."

"My great curse, you mean."

"No, I like your hair, and your height. I can look around a crowded room and know exactly where you are at all times. It is very reassuring. But I was so excited! An offer, so soon, and a viscount, too. I was in alt, I can tell you. I noticed you after that! You took me driving a few days later, and I was very forward and told you that I knew all about it. I thought, you see, that you were going to propose on the spot and I wanted to make it easy for you."

"Then I am very sorry I disappointed you."

She laughed. "But you very sensibly told me that you would propose, but not for a few weeks, because I would have other offers and you did not want me to rush into anything. You are always so sensible , Ian. You can surely understand why I had not the least idea that you were nurturing this passion for me. Even when we married, you tiptoed around me, creeping into my bed at night and creeping out again."

"I was terrified of encroaching, and giving you a disgust of me. I assumed you only married me for my title, and would be horrified if I hung on your sleeve like a besotted youth."

"Oh, Ian! You foolish man!" She lifted the cover and snuggled alongside him, rendering him almost speechless with joy. "And after Aurelia, you kept away from me altogether."

"I felt I was… unwelcome. You have been very distant ever since she was born."

"I was so disappointed in myself, and of course I was sure that I was a disappointment to you, too. You should have ravished me a lot sooner, you know. Or at least told me what was in your heart. It would have made me very happy."

"Would it? When you were still uncertain if you had made the right choice?"

"Of course it would!" Her arms tightened around him. "If I had known that you were happy… that you wanted me and not just sons, then I would never even have begun to wonder how things might have been different. You cannot imagine what it is like, Ian, to feel that one has failed in one's principal duty."

"Why do women imagine that men only want them so they will have sons? There might be some for whom that is a consideration, perhaps, if the only heir is some obnoxious cousin, but every man wants a wife he can be proud of." Then he remembered Marsden, and corrected himself. "Most men, anyway. A wife who turns heads when she walks into a room. A wife who makes other men look at him and think him the world's luckiest fellow. But also a wife who will amuse him, or calm him down when he is in a rage, or cheer him up when he is down. A wife who will make his house a home he never wants to leave. A wife who will still be with him when they are both old and grey, and still able to make him laugh, still able to surprise him. You will always surprise me, darling Izzy. You light up my life like a display of fireworks and I want to be dazzled by you forever."

"Fireworks… how very apt! I am always exploding, after all. Whereas you are… a rock."

"Boring, you mean?"

"I think we have established that you are not in the least boring," she said, with a gurgle of merriment. "It is a compliment, Ian. A rock is a thing one clings to, to avoid being swept away by treacherous currents. A rock is a solid place amid quicksand. A rock is always steady underfoot, or overhead, creating a safe place, like a cave."

"But rock can also wall you into your cave, Izzy, and that was the one thing I never wanted to do, to cage you. I wanted you to be free to be yourself forever — to go where you want to go, to do whatever pleases you, without hindrance."

"Without you?"

That brought a spasm of pain. "Yes, if that is your preference. But I would always rather be with you — always."

"Then let it be so," she whispered. "I like this new, passionate husband — I like him very much. I should like to have him with me always. And no creeping away in the middle of the night, either. It is very pleasant to wake up with you beside me."

"Is it?" he said wonderingly.

"It is. Have I ever once, in any way, suggested otherwise?"

"No, but I thought… I assumed…"

"We both assumed things about the other that turned out to be quite wrong. We must do better in future, husband. We must talk to each other about things that matter… feelings and hopes and what we like about our marriage. Apart from the obvious things."

"Kisses and such like?"

She gurgled with laughter. "And such like, yes. I like it when you chase after me, for instance. That makes me feel… wanted. Needed. I like to see you sitting at the other end of the table at dinner when we entertain, watching me. I like our evening walks. I like it when you give me extra money, although… am I horridly expensive, Ian?"

"No, not at all."

"But you give me such an enormous allowance, and then all the extras and jewels and little gifts you buy me. And all the things I break," she added in a low voice.

"I have no objection to a few breakages," he said. "It is a small price to pay, and I quite enjoy your storms. You are so incredibly beautiful when you are in a temper, my sweet. But that reminds me…I redeemed your pendant from Garthwaite. It is only a trinket, but I quite like it."

"It was the first piece you gave me after we were betrothed."

"It was. How enterprising of you to leave it with Garthwaite, and how generous he was. Five hundred pounds!" He chuckled. "Twice its worth, at least."

"I have not spent all of it," she said. "I will give you all that I have left."

"Keep it."

"But I do not want to bankrupt you, when you are so careful with money."

"Do you know how much I am worth, Izzy?"

"Six thousand a year."

"That was what I inherited when I was fourteen, but apart from Stonywell and my education, I had no expenses to speak of. All the other properties were leased out, the steward brought in some improvements to the land, and my investments were more profitable than expected. Then there was your dowry, so my income now is in excess of ten thousand a year. Even with the London house opened up and the additional expenses of entertaining and so on, I still spend little more than half of it. So feel free to break a few plates if you want to."

She gazed at him, wide-eyed with astonishment. "I had no idea."

"No one does, apart from Cousin Henry. And now you. But that does not mean we can spend as much as we want, for the girls will need to be properly dowered, and there will be governesses and so on, and if there should happen to be sons, there will be schools, university, careers…"

"Horses. Sons want hunters and matched pairs for their curricles and all manner of expensive horseflesh."

He chuckled. "So they do. And with all these expenses, I still hope to leave the estate in better heart than it was when I inherited it, for my eldest son to enjoy… or Henry's eldest, whichever it may be. So we must still watch what we spend, my love, and keep to a budget."

She sighed. "That is the husband I know so well already — the sensible one. He is not as interesting as the unexpectedly passionate one, but he is very necessary, I believe."

"He is, because money is necessary. Having enough money to live upon without disagreeable economies is the very foundation of life. But even more important than money is food, my love. It is a very long time since a single bite passed my lips and I shall waste away if I do not eat soon. Shall we see if this place can find us anything tolerable to eat?"

"I am far too happy to eat," Izzy said.

"Well, I am very happy, too, but even happiness cannot blunt my hunger. But we can eat in here, if you wish, so that we need not bother dressing properly, and then go straight back to bed."

She chuckled. "That sounds like a delightful plan, combining all the virtues of both good sense and a romantic inclination. The perfect husband."

"If only I had fashionably dark hair," he sighed.

"Hush," she said, leaning close to kiss him gently. "I would not change a single thing about you."

***

E ven excessive quantities of happiness could not entirely mitigate the disadvantages of a lumpy mattress, poor food and indifferent wine, so after one night in their wayside inn, Izzy was quite ready to move on.

"The question is, where should we go?" Ian said, as they lingered over breakfast close to noon, still not dressed. "I have left Wycliffe, Samuel and most of my luggage at Strathinver, and you have left all your luggage at Lochmaben, so—"

"And Brandon," Izzy said. "Mama brought her and the rest of my boxes north with her. She always assumed I would arrive there eventually."

"She guessed what your plan was, then?"

"Whatever it was, do not dignify it with the epithet ‘plan'," Izzy said. "I wanted to see my old suitors, but for what purpose, I could not have said, not coherently. I wondered what my life would have been if I had chosen differently five years ago, that much is true, and I was very much aware that I was not your wife and could now take a different path if I chose, but if any of them had thrown himself at my feet and offered to marry me… would I have done it? The only point where I wavered was with Robert."

"Because you were in love with him."

"No, because by then I thought I had driven you away once and for all. Mama was so confident that you would come for me, but… but you did not. A whole week I waited there, with no sign of you, until you abducted me, you crazy man."

"You have no idea how difficult it was to follow your trail, just at first, but after Marsden, I knew where you were going, so I got on better. I came as fast as I could, my sweet wife."

"Which I am not, not yet."

"Is that what you want?"

Now that she knew him better, she could see the pain in his eyes as he spoke. She reached across to take his large hand in hers with a quick squeeze. "Yes. That is very much what I want."

He closed his eyes momentarily, and exhaled. "Thank God! Then we have to decide whether to go back to collect our things and then go south in some dignity, or whether to race for the border."

"Having run away from you so disgracefully for a full month, would it be perverse of me to want to marry as soon as may be?"

"Since it accords so precisely with my own wishes, I have no objection to that plan," he said. "We are well to the south and west of our starting point, owing to my cunning scheme to take you to my little island, but the border is very close — no more than a couple of hours away."

"Then let us get dressed and be on our way," Izzy said. "Since I have no maid with me, you will have to help me with my stays."

He grinned. "My pleasure, wife."

Having so little to pack, they were on the road within the hour, turning now due south towards the border. More rain and the usual difficulties of travel assailed them, but the road was a major route between Carlisle and Edinburgh, so it was not as dire as it could have been. Ian's estimate was optimistic, however, for it was past four o'clock when the mile posts changed to mark that they had crossed into England.

Only a few miles further on, Izzy pointed through the window. "There, on that rise — that is a church, is it not?"

The rain had finally eased and the westering sun peeping through the clouds lit up a fine sandstone building, topped by an elegant domed and columned bell tower. Turning aside onto a wide track, the carriage bumped its way nearer. The sexton was hard at work with his spade, but when asked, pointed them in the direction of the parsonage.

They bumped along a different, narrower lane, to the edge of a village, or perhaps it might more modestly describe itself as a hamlet. The parsonage was not hard to find, being the only building of substance amongst a scattering of labourers' cottages.

This time Izzy got down from the carriage, too, glad of a reprieve from the rain, and hoping her bonnet, already bedraggled from Ian's rough handling of it yesterday, might dry out a little after its drenching at the last posting inn.

Ian knocked on the door, which was opened by a boy of perhaps twelve.

"Lord Farramont to see the parson," Ian said.

The boy goggled at him, then turned his gaze, awe-struck, on the mud-bespattered carriage. "You's not there yet," he said, after a minute, pointing to the north. "That way. Few more miles, is all. Find a smith — he'll do it."

Izzy burst into peals of laughter. "He thinks we are eloping, Ian."

A voice from inside the house called out, "Who is it, Jamie?"

"'Tis a lord, Pa."

The door opened wider, and a man's face appeared. He was about forty, and shabbily dressed. He too stared at Ian and Izzy, and then at the carriage. "Um…" he began.

"I am Viscount Farramont," Ian said helpfully. "This is Lady Farramont. May we come in?"

"Oh… of course, my lord… my lady. An honour. In here. Martha! Please to step this way. Excuse these papers… let me just… it will only take a moment…" He led them into an untidy little room, the rug threadbare and the furniture scuffed. As he scurried about gathering up scattered books and papers, heaping them onto an already laden desk, the chairs showed fraying covers. " Martha! Come at once! There, my lady… please to sit down. My lord. Ah, here is my wife. Viscount Farramount, Martha. And Lady Farramount."

"Farramont," Ian said. "And your name is…?"

"Hyde. William Hyde. This is Mrs Hyde. The boy is my son, James, for my sins. Martha, find the sherry for his lordship and her ladyship. I am sure there is some left. How may I be of service, my lord?"

"My wife and I would like you to marry us."

That sent Izzy into peals of laughter again, and Ian laughed, too, and explained the circumstances to the Hydes, who listened with their mouths dropping open. In a small rural parish such as this one, Izzy supposed that they rarely saw the nobility at all, let alone one bearing so outlandish a tale.

At the end of it, Mr Hyde licked his lips nervously. "Are you… staying near here, my lord? Because… residence and so forth… banns…"

"I have a special licence," Ian said.

Mr Hyde made a small sound that might have been a moan. "A special licence," he whispered. "In seventeen years as incumbent of this parish, I have never seen a special licence. I marry dairy maids and labourers, mostly, when they bother to marry at all. A bishop's licence, now — that has happened twice, once for the squire's son, and once when Rosie Talbot married the heir to a baronetcy, but oh, a special licence! May I… may I see it, my lord?"

Ian brought it out and the clergyman took it in trembling fingers. "Look, Martha! The seal of the Archbishop of Canterbury himself. ‘Charles by Divine Providence Archbishop of all England…'" He sighed, a beatific smile on his face, running his hands over it reverently. "And here are your names… Ian Lambert Farramont, Viscount Farramont… Isabel Alice Atherton… When would you like to be married, my lord?"

"As soon as you can don your vestments and light the altar candles, Mr Hyde."

"Oh!" He jumped up. "Of course! Right away! The altar candles… you would not prefer to be married here, in greater privacy?"

Ian looked around at the shabby little room. "In church, before God's altar, Mr Hyde."

"Of course, of course. Jamie, run and fetch Tom Mason from the farm. Tell him he's to be a witness at a lord's wedding. At least he can write his name. And Bob Sanders — he will still be sober enough at this hour. I shall just put on my vestments. Shall I meet you at the church, my lord?"

"Answer me one question first," Ian said. "You are an ordained clergyman, are you not? Ordained in the Anglican Church? It is somewhat important to us."

Mr Hyde chuckled. "Indeed I am, my lord. Ordained at Carlisle Cathedral these seventeen years past. Now let me see… where are my papers… they should be here… ah! There they are! You see, my lord? All is in order."

"Then… to church!" Ian said.

Izzy abandoned the indifferent sherry with relief, and walked the short distance to the church. It was, like many small rural churches, plain inside, with whitewashed walls and little decoration. A few modest plaques on the wall gleamed golden in sun streaming through the windows. Here they waited, as Mr Hyde rushed in, followed by his wife and a string of children, and two or three servants. Then more people arrived as word spread, cottage wives and the old men of the village, a muscular smith or perhaps farrier, two or three servants, and the inevitable cluster of children, asking questions in loud voices and being shushed by their elders.

Jamie returned with Bob Sanders, an elderly man rather wobbly on his feet, and the news that Tom Mason was on his way but had gone back to the farmhouse to remove his smock and put on his Sunday coat for the occasion.

That made Izzy laugh again. "For once you are not waiting for me," she murmured to Ian.

Ian gave her a small smile. "That gives you time to change your mind."

She saw the slight hint of anxiety in his expression. Even now, after all that had been said between them, he was still not sure of her, still needed reassurance.

Reaching one hand to press a finger to his lips, she said, "Hush, my love. Till death us do part, and that is a promise. No false chaplain will separate us this time." Then, reaching for his hand, she twisted off her wedding ring and pressed it into his palm. "You will need this."

There was a flurry of activity behind them, then the thunder of booted feet running up the aisle. "Aye, here I am, Will. Ye can start, now."

The clergyman opened his prayer book. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this Congregation…"

And so Izzy became Lady Farramont once more, and a great peace descended on her. She had made her choice and she was content.