Because of You (8 page)

“You’ve got a good rich hair color,” Mrs. Porter said, “My blond is growing grayer and grayer every year.”

“Now for the dress,” Mrs. Sadler announced.

It took all of them to get Samantha into the gown. When at last it was on, Mrs. Porter pulled the laces tight while Samantha stared at her reflection in the mirror. The gown fit her to perfection.

The bodice was cut far lower than anything she’d ever worn. Still, the gentle swell of her bosom over the neckline was not too shocking and made her feel feminine, sophisticated.

The dress was even the right length and the flowered hem gave it just enough weight to hang nicely.

“It’s beautiful,” Samantha said.

“No,” Mrs. Porter said, “
you’re
beautiful. Every bride is lovely on her wedding day, and you are no exception, Miss Northrup.”

She did almost look pretty…and she couldn’t help but wonder what Mr. Browne would think.

There was a knock at the door and Mrs. Biggers entered without waiting for permission. “Is everyone ready for a wedding?” she trilled. She stopped in the doorway. “Why, Miss Northrup, you look quite handsome.”

Samantha felt the heat of a blush. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Biggers shut the door. “This is for you
from the squire and myself.” She held out a shawl of the finest blue wool. “After we talked about the pattern for the dress, I feared it would be too cold. It is one thing for those belles in London to go traipsing around half naked, but tis another to do it so far north.”

“Mrs. Biggers, I can’t accept…it’s too much.”

“What nonsense!” She placed the shawl around Samantha’s shoulders and leaned close to her ear. “The truth is, I regret my angry words yesterday. I shouldn’t have been so blunt.”

“You were upset. I understand.”

Mrs. Biggers smiled. “I knew you would. Well, are we ready for a grand wedding feast? The squire and I also contributed to that. Someone has to act for your parents since yours are gone, God bless their souls.”

“Thank you,” Samantha murmured, overwhelmed by this sudden generosity.

Mrs. Sadler sent Elmira off to tell everyone downstairs to start for the church. “We’re almost ready.”

“Have you seen the bridegroom?” Mrs. Porter asked.

“No, I have not,” Mrs. Biggers said. “But I will tell you this, I wish his name were something other than Marvin.”

“I think the same,” Mrs. Sadler said. “There isn’t anything romantic about the name Marvin.” She spit on Samantha’s shoes before rubbing a shine with the corner of her apron.

“No, it’s a strong name,” Mrs. Porter declared.

“Alys, think about it,” Mrs. Sadler said to her. “It’s fine if you are saying, ‘Marvin, come to supper. Marvin, wipe the mud off your boots.’ But try—” She raised her voice to a silly falsetto, “
‘Marvin, take me!’
It doesn’t sound so good then.”

The women burst into a fit of girlish giggles. Samantha was confused, but she didn’t want to let it show. She’d been a midwife; she knew what happened between a husband and a wife. She thought that was what Mrs. Sadler referred to.

“Well, if every lad named Marvin looked like him,” Mrs. Biggers said in a sly voice, “then I would not mind a romp or two between the sheets. Besides, it’s not the name that matters but the man who wears it, and he strikes me as a very
capable
man.”

Samantha stared in surprise at the normally correct and staid Mrs. Biggers. Even more shocking, Mrs. Sadler and Mrs. Porter snickered their agreement.

Mrs. Biggers gave Samantha a playful slap. “You should have a good time later on, missy, or else I’ll begin to believe I’ve lost my eye for men.”

During all her tossing and turning, Samantha had not considered the wedding night. How could she have been so naïve?

“Come, it is time to go,” Mrs. Sadler said—and there was no time for Samantha’s doubts.

Leaving, they had a bit of an argument over
whether Samantha should wear her heavy cape or just the shawl. Mrs. Biggers feared the cape would ruin the impact of the dress. Everyone else, Samantha included, feared she would catch her death of cold.

Samantha wore the cape. She reached in the pocket to put on her gloves, but Mrs. Biggers stopped her.

“For a dress like that, you should have long gloves,” she said.

“I have nothing but these.” Samantha held up her kid gloves that came to the wrist.

“Well, they will have to do,” Mrs. Biggers said.

The day outside was cold, but the sky was blue and clear, a rare day indeed! The snow sparkled under the sun. Mrs. Biggers’s sleigh waited outside the inn’s front door. “I thought we should take the bride in style,” she said.

Roddy served as the driver. He helped all the ladies up into the sleigh. As he took Samantha’s hand, he said, “You look nice, Miss Northrup.”

“Thank you, Roddy.” His compliment was deeply appreciated.

As they drew closer and closer to the church, Samantha’s stomach started to tighten into nervous knots, but she refused to let it show. She walked to the church with her head high.

St. Gabriel’s was over six hundred years old. A small, simple church, there was no vestibule. Therefore, when Samantha stepped through the door, the heads of everyone inside turned to
gape at her. It looked as if the whole parish had turned out to see her wed.

“Oh dear,” she sighed.

Mrs. Porter heard her and gave her a quick hug. “You’ll be fine. Oh, here, give me your gloves. I think they spoil the dress. I didn’t marry in gloves, and Bert and I are doing fine.” Samantha took off the gloves and handed them to her.

Squire Biggers waited to escort Samantha up the aisle. Samantha knew she should move forward but was so nervous, her feet felt as if they were glued to the floor.

Mrs. Biggers must have sensed her distress. With a flourish, she lifted Samantha’s cape off her shoulders and repositioned the blue shawl.

Everyone in the church seemed to sigh in appreciation. It was just the thing to bring Samantha to her senses.

Squire Biggers offered his arm and she placed her hand on it. He started walking her to the front of the church.

And then Samantha stopped dead in her tracks.

Marvin stood waiting for her at the altar next to Vicar Newell, but this was not the man she remembered.

Marvin had shaved. His jawline was stronger than she had imagined it. He almost looked like a completely different man—a man with character and breeding. And incredible good looks.

His broad shoulders filled out the black home
spun jacket Mr. Sadler had given him as if it had been tailored for him. He’d managed to find a neckcloth to go with the white shirt and he’d tied it in a style that had a bit of dash to it. He’d even shined his boots for the occasion.

But the most disconcerting part was that he, too, stared as if truly seeing her for the first time. His gaze lowered slightly taking in everything from her low-cut bodice to the tip of her toes. When he raised his eyes, they were filled with obvious male approval.

For her! Of all people!

“Come, Miss Northrup,” Squire Biggers said. “It is time to meet your destiny.” He led her up the aisle.

A
s Samantha walked toward the simple stone altar with its tatted lace altar cloth, images of endless Sundays spent in this church listening to her father’s sermons crossed her mind. “Oh, Father, I wish you were here now,” she said under her breath.

In answer, for the quickest of moments, something warm and comforting rushed through her. It was the same sort of feeling that she’d always had whenever her father had given the benediction at the end of the service. A sense of peace. A sense of hope.

And then she was standing beside her future husband.

He seemed much taller than she remembered.

He held out his hand. Samantha stared at it, uncertain. Squire Biggers took her hand from his arm and placed it in Mr. Browne’s.

No, not Mr. Browne…Marvin.

Vicar Newell did an adequate job with the service. He lacked her father’s resonant voice but
she could still feel her father’s strength here in this holy place.

She heard several women crying, overcome by emotion. Miss Hattie kept blowing her nose and Miss Mabel kept “shushing” her. It was like a hundred other weddings that Samantha had witnessed in this church.

But this one was
hers.

She had trouble speaking her vows, finding herself more nervous than she’d anticipated. It wasn’t until she’d finished that she realized how tightly she was squeezing Marvin’s hand.

For his part, he repeated his vows in a deep, steady voice without any betrayal of emotion…and then they were married. He slipped a thin gold band over her ring finger. It felt strange, and yet right.

It had become the custom for the groom to kiss the bride at the end of the ceremony as a pledge of their troth. But Marvin did not kiss her. He tucked her hand in his arm and walked her down the aisle. She almost had to skip a step to keep up with him.

He didn’t stop until they were outside, shutting the church doors behind them. She released her hold. “Why are we in such a hurry?”

“I would like us to take our leave,” he said briskly.

“But the wedding feast—we can’t leave now. Everyone has made arrangements at the inn.”

He frowned down at her. “Are you saying you wish to stay for the wedding breakfast?”

Samantha didn’t understand the accusation. “They planned it for
us
…it’s all ready…”

He made an impatient sound. “Don’t you realize what hypocrites these people are?”

At that moment, the doors burst open and the villagers poured out full of good wishes. Mrs. Porter thought to bring Samantha’s cape, for which she was heartily grateful. Her dress offered no protection from the cold.

“We thought you had disappeared,” Squire Biggers said, clapping Marvin on the back. “Congratulations, man! It’s good to see another join the ranks of those of us who have the parson’s noose around our necks.”

Everyone laughed at his words—except Marvin.

“Come now,” Squire Biggers said. “Just a joke. Here, let us go to the inn and I’ll toast your health.”

Samantha looked at Marvin, beseeching him with her eyes to let them go to the inn with everyone. It was important to her. So far, this whole morning had been like her fondest dream. She had to go the inn. Every bridal couple went to the inn.

His jaw tightened stubbornly. He was going to say no, and then his expression softened. “Of course, we will go to the inn.”

Samantha had never felt so relieved. She received the congratulations and hugs in an almost euphoric state.

Squire Biggers’s sleigh and horses took them
back to the inn with the villagers walking behind. Samantha didn’t put on her gloves. She wanted everyone to see the shiny gold band on her left hand.

She was a married lady!

She still couldn’t believe it.

“What is the matter with you?” Marvin asked.

His question surprised her. She raised her eyes from the ring to see him studying her. “Me? Nothing. Why do you ask?”

“Because you look inordinately proud of something.”

She couldn’t help grinning then, letting some of the happiness inside her bubble over into the day. “I wasn’t expecting a ring.”

He glanced down at the thin band and grunted. “It’s not very much, but it is the best Sproule can do on short notice.”

“It is enough.”

His gaze held hers a moment. He appeared ready to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. It didn’t matter, they’d arrived at the inn.

The wedding breakfast was just as it had been for every other wedding Samantha had attended, and she was overjoyed. They sat in front of the room, facing everyone.

The ale was strong and good and the toasts never seemed to stop. There was a whole keg of ale to be drunk before this day was over and everyone was in high spirits for it.

Of course, Samantha and Marvin would not
be there to see it dry. After the dancing, they would be escorted upstairs to the bedroom she’d used the night before and left there to consummate the marriage.

Samantha pushed her tankard aside, suddenly feeling she’d had too much to drink. Her heart pounded in her chest at the thought of being with Marvin in that way.

At that moment, his leg brushed against hers under the table. The brief contact was jolting. He must have sensed her restlessness, because he looked down at her with a question in his dark eyes.

She gave him a tight, reassuring smile…and then watched his gaze covertly drop and settle on her breasts swelling over the bodice of her dress.

She was tempted to raise her hand and cover herself, but instead she sat still, wondering if he found her at least a little attractive.

Secretly, she could admit she had never met a more handsome, more heroic man. He had rescued her from a life of obscurity. She was Mrs. Marvin Browne. Her hands in her lap, she ran her finger over the ring.

His glance shifted away. He smiled at something Mr. Hatfield said about husbands and wives, but beneath the table, he impatiently tapped his foot on the floor as if he was only biding the time until he could escape.

She didn’t like that idea. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

At last the squire rose. He’d been drinking heavily, as was his habit. He raised his tankard. “I have something to say—”

“You always have something to say,” his wife rejoined good-naturedly. Everyone laughed, although she was the only one who dared to talk to him that way.

Squire Biggers continued. “First a toast to our newest married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Marvin Browne.”

Samantha blushed furiously as everyone said, “Aye,” and lifted their tankards.

After they had drunk, the squire said, “Second, I want to offer Marvin a job. A good one. I could use a stablehand and I think he is suited for the position. I can always use a brawny man like you.”

Everyone started to drink again—except Samantha and Marvin. She slid a look at him from the corner of her eye.

He was not smiling.

He pushed away from the table and came to his feet. Samantha stopped breathing as he picked up his tankard and raised it in the direction of the squire.

“I appreciate your offer,” he said, his voice suddenly more cultured, more refined, the tones clipped and distinct. “However, I will take care of my wife as I see fit, and I must refuse. And now, if you will excuse us, we are going to leave.” He drained the tankard, set it on the table, and offered Samantha his hand.

She had no choice but to take it. The whole situation was very awkward. The room had fallen into silence and she felt everyone stare at her.

He helped her to her feet, pushing the bench back to give her room. She had just taken a step toward the door when the squire stepped into their path.

“You will not take Miss Northrup,” the squire said. “You can’t. She is the only doctor of sorts we have.”

“You should have thought of that before you married her off to a stranger,” Marvin drawled.

“You will stay here,” Squire Biggers said in a resolute tone. “If you don’t like the job I’ve offered you, then perhaps I can talk to the duke of Ayleborough’s steward. They might have something there for you to do. But you will not take Miss Northrup.”

“Her name is Mrs. Browne,” Marvin said. “And I’ll do anything I damn well please.”

Squire Biggers’s nostrils flared with anger. “Aye, that you can…but only after the marriage has been consummated. Until that time, it can be annulled.”

A gasp went up in the room. Samantha was one of those who had gasped.

Marvin took hold of her arm and pulled her behind him. “You’ll do no such thing.”

“I will do what I have to do to take care of what is mine,” Squire Biggers said proudly.
“And there isn’t a man in this room who wouldn’t do the same.”

As if on cue, all the village men, with the exception of Vicar Newell, stood up, a sign of solidarity with the squire. Samantha had seen it happen before. Traditions ran deep here and they all followed the squire. The only one who could gainsay him was the mighty duke of Ayleborough himself.

The air vibrated with tension. All earlier good humor vanished.

Samantha felt torn between the community she’d always known and this man who stood beside her. She turned to him. His expression was grim. He did not like the ultimatum—but then, to her surprise, his stance relaxed. He smiled even.

“You are right, Squire Biggers. I would be wrong to take my wife from this village. Perhaps a job in your stables would suit me.”

A big smile split the squire’s face. “Aye, it would, and happy we are that you have seen reason.”

Samantha noticed that the smile of neither man reached his eyes. She sensed they were wary and waiting.

“Drink with me, then,” Squire Biggers ordered, and Marvin dutifully held out his tankard for the serving girl to fill. He drank that one and several others, but Samantha did not see that drink had any effect on him. She was relieved to discover that he wasn’t a drunkard. That doubt
had lingered in the back of her mind.

The dancing had just started when Marvin took her hand. “Come.”

“Where are we going?”

“To consummate our wedding.” He didn’t look at her but kept his gaze on the squire, who was dancing with his wife. His manner was far from loverlike.

He rose from the table, pulling her with him. They started walking toward the door leading to the outside hall and the stairs.

Mrs. Sadler saw them. “It’s time! It’s time,” she shouted. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to the bridal couple.

Samantha froze. In her enchantment with being married, she’d forgotten the part of the ceremony when the villagers helped turn the bridal couple into the bed. Actually, she and her father had usually left before this part of the tradition, having no wish to see two people humiliated in such a manner. Many was the time the villagers had stripped the couple and tied them into the bed together.

Apparently Marvin knew of the custom because he squeezed her hand. “Run.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. However, when they reached the door leading to the stairs and the hallway, he turned toward the outside door. Their clasp broke.

Samantha stared at him in surprise. He hadn’t meant to take her upstairs.

The first villager almost made it to the door
when Marvin, acting quickly, shut it. “Where’s the lock?” he shouted at Samantha.

“There isn’t one.”

“There isn’t one?” he repeated, even as the door started to open.

There wasn’t time to make an escape. He grabbed her elbow and directed her to the stairs.

Samantha was out of breath by the time they reached the top. The villagers shouted out their names along with crude jests and boasts. She ran into the her bedroom, Marvin on her heels, and they shut the door.

“Where’s the lock here?” he yelled in exasperation.

“There isn’t one!” she shouted back. She could hear the villagers laughing as they charged up the stairs. Her nerves were on edge. She wanted to scream. They couldn’t come through the door. She would die of embarrassment if they did half of what she’d heard they’d done to other couples.

Marvin solved the problem by pulling the room’s heavy chest of drawers in front of the door.

Someone pushed on the door but couldn’t move the chest. Mr. Porter hollered, “Come on, now, we must have our fun.”

“Go to the devil,” Marvin told him.

They laughed at his response but stopped pushing on the door. Squire Biggers’s voice said, “Come, lads, let us go finish that keg. We have them where we want them.”

Samantha sank down on the bed, pressing her hand against her stomach as she heard them tramp back down the wooden steps. “That was close.”

Marvin didn’t answer her but walked over to the window and looked out it, his gaze studying something in the distance.

The room grew very quiet. Downstairs, the fiddler played a jig and the dancing had resumed. Samantha nervously tapped her toe to the music, all too conscious that they were alone—and for one purpose.