Eulogy's Secret (The Huntley Trilogy) (31 page)

“Late last night. When I inquired at the inn this morning, they said you’d already left. I wondered if you’d run for it while you could.” Charles slapped his sibling’s back.

“No, brother, I’m not like you.”

“Not too late to change your mind.”

“Never in a million years.”

“Then I envy you the certainty.”

The two men embraced. Growing used to the near-permanent lump of emotion blocking his throat, Jack spoke.

“This means a lot to me, your being here.”

“Wouldn’t have missed this for the world, even if this place is the back of beyond.” Charles quieted. “Look, I’m sorry George couldn’t get leave and with Mother not fit to travel…”

“It’s quite all right, old chap, I understand and nothing is going to spoil today.”

“Come, let us stroll.” Charles raised a quizzical brow. “By the way, you do know that right now your bride-to-be is the most celebrated woman in London? Devlin’s treachery has raised her to almost mythical status, a wronged beauty with you as her knight-in-shining-armor, defending her honor. Lithographs of Farrell’s portraits are selling faster than they can be printed, adorning every parlor from the lowest to the highest.”

“Heavens!”

“Just as well you two are marrying in the country. She’s so popular it would cause a riot in town.”

From the lane running alongside the dry stone wall around the graveyard, came the low murmur of voices. Jack glimpsed a man with a cloud of white hair, leaning heavily on the curate.

“Ah, that’s the Reverend Reed arriving. He’s come out of retirement especially to conduct the ceremony. Let me introduce you.”

Again a lump formed in Jack’s throat, really this emotion business was most inconvenient. He wanted to tell Charles that the Reverend had baptized Eulogy and had watched her grew and when he learnt of their impending marriage, the old man had insisted on taking the ceremony. The look of joy on Eulogy’s face at this news had almost reduced him to tears. Thinking about it still made his lip tremble and pulling himself together, Jack ascribed this strange behavior to weakness after his recent injury.

Jack took his seat before the altar. Considering the service was intended as an intimate affair, the church was remarkably full. Glancing around, Jack was moved as he recognized colleagues, friends and relations who had taken the initiative to travel north to join the celebration. It was becoming quite a habit, he reflected wryly, being overwhelmed by happiness, and as he sank back against the pew and Charles gave him a reassuring look, he realized he had never been happier.

The breathy organ struck a chord and a hush fell over the congregation. Jack peered over his shoulder. Eulogy appeared in silhouette at the church door, arm in arm with Farrell. Gliding along, like some ethereal creature, she stole Jack’s breath away. Women sobbed and men nodded in agreement that never had they seen a more radiant bride. She wore a gown of ivory silk; her hair tumbling softly beneath her veil was crowned with a coronet of blushing primroses. On silent feet she reached his side. Jack had to clench his fists to stop his tears, not entirely successfully, as his brother discretely passed him a silk handkerchief.

Beaming from ear to ear, the Reverend Reed shuffled to the altar steps. Clearing his throat and peering over the rim of his glasses, he signaled for hush so the service could begin. Standing in front of the altar with Eulogy at his side, Jack’s heart thudded, fit to burst. The service passed in a blur, he heard and repeated words, like a man drugged, impressions of smiling faces and then they were married—Charles digging him in the ribs, hissing not to be an ass and kiss the bride

He came to his senses and with shaking hands Jack lifted her veil. She too was trembling. Instinctively he brushed his lips against hers, then again more deeply, pulling her into his embrace. As his body heated slowly, the ripple of amusement spreading around the congregation turned to enthusiastic applause.

He threw back his head and laughed, whilst Eulogy’s cheeks turned scarlet. Tucking her tapered fingers securely in the crook of his arm, they made their way down the aisle. Some village girls, freckled faced lasses with bouncing ringlets, sprang forward, with baskets over their arms. Giggling they scattered meadow flowers before the newlyweds to form a sweetly scented carpet. Jack’s heart swelled. No tonnish wedding could match this depth of feeling, and to think, he had almost been foolish enough to insist.

The late Doctor Foster and his daughter were greatly respected in Easterhope and surrounding hamlets, and after the ceremony the wedding supper was a wonderful surprise. A little girl in her Sunday best, her hair neatly plaited and tied with red ribbons, shyly beckoned the newlyweds to follow. Jack glanced at his bride, who smiled back with tears in her eyes. Eulogy whispered.

“Little Sophie Cooper. She was in no hurry to be born one Christmas Eve.”

“Oh.” Jack nodded, wondering if he would ever stop being amazed by his new wife. “And you helped?”

“In a manner. I looked after the Cooper’s other children, Mr. Cooper being of no use in the circumstances.”

Jack suppressed a grin, struck by the thought of Eulogy bearing their children. Sophie danced around, her pigtails skipping against her back, leading them to what appeared to a newly built barn hewn from grey stone. The great double doors, big enough for a wagon to pass through, stood invitingly open.

Inside the earth floor had been swept clean and was scattered with lavender, a low platform at one end, and lines of trestle tables set with white linen clothes. Jack inhaled, the scent of spring filling the air. From the rafters hung swags of ivy, threaded with apple blossom, great vases of cherry and peach blossom set on every table.

“This is magical.” Eulogy breathed in disbelief. “A fairy story.”

Too overwhelmed to speak, Jack squeezed her arm. The little girl, with smiling eyes regarded Jack shyly. Eulogy nudged him and winked.

“Another conquest.”

He shook his head, hardly able to tear his gaze from his bride’s dimpled cheeks. “Eyes only for you, my darling.”

A low chortle reminded them they were not alone as Charles slapped his brother’s back. “The billing-and-cooing can wait, the party’s waiting.”

With Eulogy at his side they assumed their seats at the head table on the low platform, Eulogy to his right, Charles to his left. Village folk continued to file in, in a seemingly endless stream, spreading across the barn until there was not a seat to be had at any table. A murmur of approval rose as the happy couple lifted their glasses in a toast to the assembled crowd.

And the celebration began. The delicious smell of roasting pork wafted in and with delight Jack realized a hog was roasting on a spit. Platters of succulent meat were passed from hand to hand, and in his love filled haze Jack found himself facing a plate of pork with an aromatic stuffing, apple sauce, creamy potatoes and the sweetest glazed carrots he had ever tasted. His stomach rumbled and suddenly he realized just how hungry he was and tucked in with enthusiasm. Where once he would have shuddered, and been repelled by the rusticity, now all he could do was grin until his cheeks ached. This was perfect. Eulogy was perfect.

He glanced at her, expecting to see his happiness reflected. But her head was down, staring at her plate, pushing a pea round and around with listless distraction. Immediately concern dampened his happiness.

“Is something the matter?”

“No sweetheart.” She softly gazed into his eyes, melting his soul all over again.

“Are you feeling unwell? You aren’t eating.”

“No.” She shook her head, ringlets dancing. “I’m too excited to eat.”

Remembering his lack of appetite early in the day, Jack accepted this explanation without a second thought. As the celebration progressed he kept stealing glances; she was so beautiful in her bridal gown, with the spring flowers soft in her hair she was every bit as enigmatic as one of Farrell’s paintings. But still a ripple of unease stirred the surface of his happiness, as a wistful sadness filled her eyes.

The ale flowed in a never ending supply. As the guests grew merry, the tables were cleared aside and a fiddle player established himself on a straw bale, striking up a jilty tune that set feet a tapping. Charles nudged his brother.

“Time to start the dancing old boy.”

“Oh, of course.”

Eulogy’s hand was a featherweight, resting on his own, as he escorted her onto the makeshift dance floor. To wild applause the fiddle player struck up a waltz, and the crowd hushed as Jack took his bride in his arms. Her body fitted so snugly against his, she felt warm in his arms, catching the fresh scent of her hair, the primroses tickling his nose as he held her close. Gliding around the floor, her gaze locked in his, Jack grew impatient, suppressing the growing urge to whisk his bride off to their private chambers. But something in Eulogy’s expression discomforted him. Other dancers took to the floor, nudging and bumping against them. Eulogy gave a shuddering sigh. Jack glanced at her in alarm. He saw her smile bravely, but saw how her lip trembled. He guiding her toward the doors, dancing through the throng, took her by the hand and led her outside.

After the stuffiness of the barn, the fresh air was bracing. Eulogy turned into him, her face full of sorrow, and rested her cheek against his jacket.

“Something is wrong. Don’t pretend it isn’t.”

She stiffened in his arms. His heart beat heavily and with a dry mouth he voiced his worst fear. “Do you regret our marriage already?”

“Oh no!” She clung tightly to him. “Never think that.”

“Then what?” Panic coursed through his veins. Was she ill? It would be intolerable to lose her now, after everything else. He gathered his wits. If she was ill, he would help her. He would employ the best doctor in the country.

“We are married now,” he spoke calmly. “Your problems are my problems. Let me help.”

Slowly, she drew away. The air between them cooled.

“No more secrets,” he whispered. “Tell me.”

Her voice caught and he had to strain to hear. “There’s someone I must see. Can you forgive me? I must leave you for a while.”

Jack took a step back. Perhaps it was the ale but his world lurched sickeningly.

“Give me a moment to make our excuses and we can slip away together.”

“No!” she almost shouted, planting her hand in his chest to push him away.

“You want to be alone?” Blood pounded in his ears, as man and wife he wanted to be there for her and yet she was pushing him away.

“I do.” She nodded.

A deep, empty loneliness engulfed him like a storm cloud across the summer sun.

“Oh.” Jack opened his mouth but shut it again. It was as if he had been punched. Wasn’t being married about sharing everything? On their wedding day was he to be shut out? Disappointment muted his happiness; her cutting him out was like a physical pain. “But I love you.”

“I know.” She took a step away. “You trust me don’t you?” Her eyes burnt into his, searching, questioning. He glimpsed the seeds of doubt in their rich velvet depths.

Jack swallowed hard. In that instant he knew he loved Eulogy so much, that his needs were as nothing compared to hers. Gravely he nodded.

“Of course. I learnt that lesson several weeks ago.” With a huge effort he masked his disappointment with a smile, because he knew deep down that what he wanted didn’t matter now, he loved Eulogy enough to let her be. “Go, do what you need to. I shall be here for you when you return.”

There was such intense sorrow on her face, his heart contracted painfully. He wanted to hold her, to walk with her, but she wanted to be alone. He must put her needs first so he bit his tongue, using all of his formidable will to stay seated.

“Thank you.”

With a grateful nod she turned and walked away. He watched her go, her hips swaying gently with each step that took her further away. It was as if a part of him were being torn away. He reached out, steadying himself against the barn wall. In time, perhaps his need to protect her would fade, and perhaps she would let him in. In the meantime, all he could do was wait.

She looked so vulnerable, so fragile, a small figure by a dry stone wall. She stopped, her little hand posed on the gate. His heart leapt into his throat as she turned. A slow sad smile haunted the corners of her lips. Tears filled his eyes, his very love spilling over his cheeks. She raised her arm, hesitant and beckoned for him to follow.

Color flooded back into his world. Eager as a pup he took to his heels and ran to her. Neither spoke as she grasped his hand, and led him back down the winding path towards the church. Jack kept silent, sensing her need for quiet, knowing that she was vulnerable in a way not previously shown to him. He opened the lynch gate and let Eulogy pass within. He stood back, waiting her signal that he was to follow. Once again she took his hand, pressing her fingers against his palm as they walked in somber silence.

They entered the grave yard. Eulogy knelt before a grave, bright with fresh spring daffodils. The grave was carefully tended and recently, the ground disturbed the previous year. Eulogy dropped to her knees in front of a freshly carved gravestone. Jack took a step back, not wishing to intrude on her grief as head-bowed, she prayed. A few minutes she stood again, tears rolling down her cheeks.