Chapter Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Eight

London, England

June 1863

Stella and Teddy had to wait three consecutive Sundays for the banns to be called. On the third Sunday, she finally worked up the nerve to write to Anne. The letter was posted but a week before Teddy and Stella’s wedding.

It wasn’t the only letter she wrote.

After much thought—and even more second-guessing herself—Stella penned a brief note to her brother in Derbyshire. It contained neither an invitation to her wedding, nor an invitation back into her life. To be sure, it was more in the manner of a goodbye.

Dear Daniel,

By the time you receive this, I shall be married. My husband is Mr. Edward Hayes, a respectable gentleman of good family, good fortune, and immense artistic talent. He sees something beautiful in me, and desires that I live my life without shame or apology. We will be settling in London, and plan to make each other very happy.

Your sister,

Stella

She had no expectation of a reply. Not from her brother. But she did suspect that Anne would have something to say to the news.

Sure enough, despite the lateness of Stella’s letter and the very great distance from Somersetshire to London, when Stella arrived at the small church in Fleet Street for her wedding, she found Anne waiting in the vestry, along with Julia, who had journeyed back from Yorkshire for the ceremony.

“I should have known it would be him,” Anne said, hugging Stella fiercely, as Julia stood by. “Indeed, I would have known had I not been so consumed with my own happiness.”

“Which is exactly as it should have been,” Stella said, pressing a kiss to her friend’s cheek. “You’ve done enough looking after all of us.”

“Rubbish. We look after each other.” Anne stepped back. Some of the glacial hardness in her face—that frosty aristocratic look she’d had ever since Stella had met her—had gone. It was replaced by an expression of relaxed contentment. It appeared that life with Mr. Hartford was agreeing with her. “Why on earth did you delay in writing to me?”

“Because I knew you’d try to rescue me,” Stella answered honestly. “And I didn’t want to be rescued. I wanted to gallop ahead, come what may.”

Anne laughed. “Nonsensical girl. Have you no respect for peril?”

“No, indeed.” Stella smiled back at her. “I find I rather enjoy it.”

“So says the young lady dressed like an angel,” Julia said as she hugged Stella in turn. “You look beautiful, dearest.”

Anne looked Stella up and down with approval. “Did Ahmad design your wedding dress?”

“He did,” Stella said. “And Mira did the embroidery and trimmings.”

The elegant gown was made of white tarlatan muslin, embellished with delicate whitework butterflies, and edged in Valenciennes lace. Ahmad and Mira had helped Stella into it at the Maliks’ house before they’d departed for the church. It only remained for Stella to put on her veil. It had been too fragile for her to wear in the carriage.

Evie entered the vestry behind them, carrying the flowing piece of white netting draped over her arms. It was as finely wrought as a cobweb, and was, like the wedding dress, embroidered with butterflies.

“I’m sensing a theme,” Anne remarked, smiling as Evie affixed the gauzy veil to Stella’s upswept silver hair.

“Mira says that the butterflies are a symbol of transformation,” Evie told her. “Stella has begun the day as an innocent young maiden and shall be ending it as a respectably married lady.”

“Transformed by love into a butterfly,” Julia said. “How romantic.”

“Indeed,” Stella replied. “Though it seems to imply that I was a caterpillar before.”

It also implied that Teddy loved her.

Which wasn’t precisely true. They were friends, certainly. And doubtless he was fond of her. There was attraction there, too, as evidenced by the kisses and embraces they had shared. But was it love? Or was it still inextricably tied up in his passion for painting her? That was, after all, what had started it.

Try as she might, Stella couldn’t rid herself of the niggling premonition that, when he was at last finished with his masterpiece, he would be finished with her as well.

And he was nearly done, she knew, though she still hadn’t seen the portrait yet.

All that remained was for him to paint her en plein air —out of doors, along the Thames, the atmosphere of which, Teddy claimed, would stand in for the sea. He’d already chosen the drape Stella would wear. It was a soft, creamy pearl tulle, adorned with mother-of-pearl paillettes. Ahmad had sewn it over a flowing, sleeveless muslin shift that, when worn, would give the appearance that Stella was clad in nothing but the netting, while still preserving her modesty.

It was that which she was thinking of, even as she smiled with her friends, and readied herself for her walk down the aisle. Of the small but persistent fear that she and Teddy were reaching the end of things rather than embarking on a new beginning together.

“Who is giving you away?” Anne asked. “Not your brother, I presume.”

Stella’s smile dimmed to think of Daniel. She willed it back again. Today wasn’t about regretting the family she’d lost. It was about celebrating the family she had. And friends were family, too. Often more than family, for friends were the family you chose.

“Ahmad is giving me away,” she said. “It seemed right to ask him. After living with him and Evie for so many weeks, I’ve come to look on him as something like a brother.”

“He was honored,” Evie said. “Truly. He takes the responsibility very seriously.”

Julia helped to adjust Stella’s veil. “I had a peep into the church before I arrived. There were several strangers in the pews.”

“I recognized the Finchleys,” Anne said. “And Mira and Mr. Jones. But the other couples were unknown to me.”

“It’s Mr. and Mrs. Thornhill and Mr. and Mrs. Cross,” Stella said. “They’re friends of Mr. Hayes’s family, and have come to stand in for Mr. and Mrs. Archer.”

“His family couldn’t come themselves?” Julia asked.

“His sister is entering her confinement and unable to travel from France,” Stella explained. “And his aged Aunt Charlotte couldn’t attend, either, on account of having a weak heart. They both wrote very kind letters, however. And Mr. and Mrs. Archer sent a lovely gift.”

It was an exquisite ormolu clock. Stella had put it above the mantel in Teddy’s studio. It wasn’t the first bit of homeliness she’d added to the house in Maiden Lane. There was a new sofa and chairs for the parlor, a carved walnut dining set, and a large mahogany wardrobe for the bedroom.

Teddy had encouraged Stella to purchase whatever she needed, and told her to have the bills sent to him. He wasn’t rich, but neither was he poor. And he was by no means tightfisted.

“They’re here in spirit, I’m sure,” Evie said.

Julia’s gaze shimmered. She always grew emotional at weddings. “And Mr. Hayes has you now.”

“And I have him,” Stella said resolutely. She refused to let any more doubts steal her joy.

Ahmad entered the vestry. He wore a smart-looking morning coat with gray trousers. His thick black hair was combed into meticulous order. “It’s time,” he said.

Anne, Julia, and Evie bustled around Stella in a final rush, adjusting her skirts, straightening her veil, and putting her bouquet of lavender and roses into her hands.

“There,” Anne said. “You’re ready.”

“You’re perfect,” Evie said.

“The prettiest bride ever,” Julia agreed.

Ahmad offered Stella his arm. “Shall we?”

Stella felt a sudden resurgence of anxiety. “Is Mr. Hayes already at the alter?” she asked, taking Ahmad’s arm.

What if Teddy hadn’t come? What if he’d changed his mind? What if—

“He’s there,” Ahmad said, leading Stella from the vestry. “He’s waiting for you.”

And he was, of course. He was seated in his wheeled chair at the top of the aisle, looking unbearably handsome in his morning coat and gray-striped trousers.

Stella’s gaze fixed on him the entirety of the way up the aisle, never mind their friends seated to the left and the right. There was no one but Teddy, filling her vision and filling her heart.

And suddenly, she knew. She just knew.

The realization struck her, less like a thunderbolt and more like a minor earthquake of the soul. It rolled through her, the culmination of something that had been building since the moment they’d met.

Half in love, she’d thought. That was all. Not wholly in love. But she’d been wrong. The full strength of the emotion had crept up on her as silent as a thief, stealing itself around her soul. She recognized it now beyond all doubt.

I love him.

Teddy hadn’t cared about marrying in a church. He’d been more interested in speed than ceremony. But once a vicar’s sister, he supposed, always a vicar’s sister. And Teddy didn’t intend to start things off on the wrong foot with his future wife merely because he found the trappings of a fashionable wedding tedious.

And they had been tedious, not to mention damnably inconvenient for his work.

Marrying in a church meant first finding a clergyman that could accommodate them. Tom had again worked his magic in the form of a small chapel in Fleet Street, not far from his law offices. Teddy and Stella had promptly booked the date, and even engaged the church’s organist to play Mendelssohn for a fee.

After that, Teddy had suffered through multiple days without his model as the wedding preparations got under way. Rather than dutifully posing for his painting, Stella had been off for wedding dress fittings and shopping excursions, buying various things she would need before moving in with him in Maiden Lane.

Delivery men had been bringing furnishings, linens, and other domestic necessities for the last week, regularly breaking Teddy’s concentration.

By the time the morning of his wedding day arrived, announced by an unseasonably heavy downpour of summer rain, he was fully ready to get the dratted thing over with. The sooner he and Stella were married, the sooner he could resume painting her.

But he hadn’t reckoned for how he’d feel as he sat at the top of the aisle in the tiny stone chapel, with its single modest stained-glass window, surrounded by friends, and awaiting the arrival of his bride.

When she at last appeared on Ahmad’s arm, clad in delicate white muslin and veiled in diaphanous embroidered net, Teddy could only stare at her, struck dumb by how beautiful she was and by the fact—the suddenly visceral, appreciable, soul-fracturing fact—that she was shortly going to be his.

All his.

The aged little white-haired clergyman who stood in front of them didn’t waste any time. Rain beat against the high windows, nearly drowning out his creaky intonation as he began reading from the Book of Common Prayer.

Teddy gazed solemnly into Stella’s eyes, and she into his.

He’d never thought to marry. Not since losing the use of his legs. He hadn’t imagined trusting anyone. Loving anyone. Life to him, when he’d at last resumed it, had taken on another focus. Art had been the whole of his world.

But no longer.

“I will,” Stella said, a faint tremor in her voice.

“I will,” Teddy said, putting the ring on her finger. It was a fine band of gold, purchased from a jeweler in Bond Street. It didn’t do what he felt for her justice. No mere piece of jewelry could.

Another few words from the reverend, and it was done.

Stella pushed back her veil herself. Teddy would have done so, but she was too tall in comparison to his chair, with no means of leveling them unless she stooped down in her dress. For a taut moment, it had appeared as though she might.

But no.

He was vaguely relieved. There would be time enough to kiss her, without engaging in spectacle. Instead, he took her hand. “Well, Mrs. Hayes?”

She didn’t reply, only looked at him, the most inexplicable emotion in her silver-blue eyes. She hung on to his hand, rather like a lifeline.

Teddy’s chest tightened on a surge of tenderness. He could see she was overwhelmed. Was it by emotion? By the reality of what they’d just committed to? Both, possibly. “I just thought of another argument for our marriage,” he said under his breath as they released hands, turning to face their guests. “No need to change the initials on your linens.”

A shadow of a smile tipped her mouth. “I haven’t embroidered the linens yet.”

“Something to look forward to, then,” he said. “Among other things.”

They made their way back down the aisle together to the joyful strains of a Strauss march, he wheeling his new chair and she walking beside him, smiling now, though still a bit tremulously.

Behind them, their guests rose to follow. Mrs. Blunt was clinging to Captain Blunt’s arm, dabbing her eyes with a lacy handkerchief, and Hartford was guiding Lady Anne from their pew, a hand at her waist as he pressed a discreet kiss to her temple.

Captain Thornhill and Lady Helena were smiling at each other, possibly remembering their own unconventional wedding, which had taken place not in a church but in a registrar’s office after only a few days’ acquaintance; Neville and Clara held hands, their faces aglow; and Tom and Jenny lingered, heads bent together in intimate conversation, exchanging soft words as they waited for Mira and Mr. Jones to join them.

Evelyn and Ahmad walked behind the guests, the de facto parents of the bride, reminding everyone about the wedding breakfast that Jenny Finchley was hosting for the newlyweds in Half Moon Street.

“Shall we go?” Teddy asked Stella, before their guests could overtake them. “Tom has engaged a carriage for us. The wagonette doesn’t best suit the rain.”

“I prefer a carriage today,” she said.

So did he. In a closed carriage, there would be no Jennings looming over their shoulders.

Alas, Teddy couldn’t dispense with the man completely. Not even on his wedding day.

Jennings waited at the church doors to assist Teddy down the steps and into the waiting carriage. The vehicle had been bedecked with garlands at the start of the day, but the rain had played havoc with the flowers. Scarcely a bloom retained its petals.

Teddy insisted that Stella precede him into the cab. Jennings obligingly trotted forward to hand her in while Teddy remained under the stone outcropping at the top of the church steps.

“Do take care not to get too wet, Mr. Jennings,” Stella said to the manservant as she climbed inside the carriage. “You mustn’t catch cold.”

“I’m right enough, miss.” Jennings reddened. “I mean, ma’am. I mean, er, Mrs. Hayes.” He bowed awkwardly before bounding back up the steps to fetch Teddy.

Teddy’s mouth quirked at the manservant’s stammering. “My wife’s civility must make a nice change from my infernal moods,” he commented as Jennings hoisted him from his chair.

“I don’t pay no mind, sir,” Jennings replied, conveying Teddy to the carriage. “Mr. Archer said when he hired me as how I wasn’t to take your bouts of temper to heart.”

“Did he indeed?”

“He said none of it were personal. That it was all owing to frustration, on account of that chair of yours.”

Teddy could easily imagine Alex saying just that. Making excuses for Teddy, even as he tried to smooth Teddy’s path back into the land of the living. Teddy felt a distinct pang of gratitude for his brother-in-law, and for his sister, too. He hadn’t always appreciated their interference—or anyone’s, come to that—but he recognized when he’d benefited from it.

Despite his moods, his surliness, and his intermittent bouts of melancholy, his family had been there for him unreservedly. So, too, had his friends. Even new acquaintances like Felix Hartford had helped Teddy, often whether he liked it or not.

“The old chair, perhaps,” Teddy said. “But not this one.” He flashed a look at his mahogany and brass pneumatic marvel that had helped to further smooth his path in life. “This one has drastically improved my outlook.”

“It won’t be damaged in the rain, will it?” Stella asked as Teddy settled into the carriage seat beside her.

Teddy’s hair was damp and his suit rumpled from Jennings’s heavy-handed assistance. “The coachman brought a tarpaulin for it.”

It took but a few moments longer to secure the chair to the carriage, and then Teddy and Stella were off, leaving their friends behind, waving them off on the steps of the church.

“You’re not regretting it, are you?” Teddy asked her the instant they were alone.

Stella shook her head. “No,” she said. “Are you?”

“No.” He glanced out the window at the fog rolling over the street. “I’m just impatient to return to my work. The painting is nearly finished.”

That same inexplicable look crossed her face. “Yes. I know.”

“All it wants is the final touches. You in your gossamer net, and a bit of that fog over the water. I could paint it as it stands, providing it would cease raining long enough for me to set up my easel on the banks of the river.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed.

But before tomorrow, there was tonight.

Teddy returned his attention to Stella. His heart thumped hard, and not only from the effort it had taken to get into the carriage. After the wedding breakfast, and the ordeal of getting themselves back to Maiden Lane in what appeared to be worsening weather, there was still the wedding night to get through.

Is that why she was being so quiet? Why she’d appeared to have retreated behind her mask again? Brides were meant to be nervous on their wedding night. It was practically a tradition. It was a husband’s responsibility to put his new wife at ease.

Teddy took her hand. His voice deepened with sincerity. “I’m so glad it’s you,” he said.

She turned to him. “It will be me a long while after your painting is finished.”

“There will be other paintings,” he assured her. “Haven’t I told you so?”

“One thousand, you said once. You shall doubtless get bored after the hundredth.”

“Bored of this?” He touched her cheek. “Never.”

Her eyes softened. “Thank you.”

“For what?” His hand curved around her neck. They were seated side by side like any other newly married couple—he in his wedding suit and she in her bridal gown. There was no Jennings. No wheeled chair.

“For proposing to me,” she said. “For being so generous about furnishing the house, and making the stable fit for Locket.” Her breath hitched as he drew closer, bending his head. “For letting us marry in a church. I know you’d rather have got it over with in an office somewhere or a—”

His mouth captured hers.

She closed her eyes, leaning into his kiss. Her arms slowly circled his neck. There was no doubt. No hesitation. She was soft, and warm, and welcoming, yielding to the pressure of his lips even as she claimed his lips for her own.

One kiss became two, and then another. Each dissolved into the next, punctuated by sweetly muffled words and sighs.

The Finchleys’ carriage was more private than a sleigh. More dangerous than Teddy’s studio. There inside the shadowy cab, with the curtains drawn, and the rain beating the windows, he felt closer to her than he’d ever felt before.

Was the carriage solely to blame? Or was it those vows? That ring?

“I’d do it all again, and more,” Teddy said huskily. “Anything to have you.”

“Was it purely selfish, then?” Stella asked, lips brushing over his. “Saving me from a life in the background?”

“It was you who saved me. I told you I’d run mad if I couldn’t paint you. I would have done, you know.”

“I cured you, did I?”

“Not completely. Not yet.” He was still half-mad. Twisting his fingers in the thickness of her hair, he took her mouth again.

Raindrops fell in a continual drumbeat. It wasn’t until the carriage turned onto Half Moon Street that the drops began to come further apart, eventually ceasing altogether. The carriage slowed to a rattling halt, giving Teddy and Stella ample time to collect themselves.

A footman opened the carriage door while Jennings fetched Teddy’s wheeled chair. Fog blanketed the street. The sun had belatedly emerged behind it, streaking the landscape with brilliant color.

Teddy set a hand at Stella’s back. “Look at that light,” he said. “Pity I can’t commit it to canvas.”

She turned to him. Her lips were very pink, her face flushed from the passionate kisses they’d shared. “Who says you can’t?”

“It’s our wedding day. I wouldn’t be so churlish.”

“But we married to please ourselves. To do what we want, when we want.”

“Today is about what you want,” he said.

She looked steadily back at him. “I want you to finish your painting.”

He searched her face, amazed by what he found there. Good Lord, she was serious. He didn’t know whether he should be disappointed or elated.

“I couldn’t start until twilight,” he said. “That’s the hour I require, not the middle of the day. It might very well disrupt our evening.”

Her blush deepened. “Twilight doesn’t last forever.”

Teddy’s heart lost its rhythm. The meaning was plain. They would still have their wedding night, come what may. But first…

The artistic possibilities beckoned.

“In that case,” he said, “if the weather holds and you don’t change your mind—” His mouth tipped up in a sudden grin. “This evening, at sunset, I shall ask you very politely to change into your starry raiments and accompany me and my canvas to the banks of the Thames.”