Chapter 21
If audio player doesn't work, press Stop then Play button again
On the morning of the wedding, Antoinette put up Elizabeth's hair in an elaborate flower woven weave. Mark left early in the curricle, "To collect my reluctant best man," he told her with a laugh. Elizabeth and Antoinette were to follow in the coach.
Elizabeth surprised herself by wishing that her mother and sisters might have been able to see her so finely dressed for her wedding. Until that morning Elizabeth had been pleased with this quiet wedding plan, for she hadn't enjoyed the fuss surrounding her elder sister's weddings.
At the church, Antoinette fussed and tweaked a few things, then settled a finely woven veil that she had acquired into the weave of Elizabeth's hair. She secured it with a couple pins, rather than the fancy hair ornaments that Elizabeth's sisters had used. Elizabeth realized these were items that had been left out due to her shortage of funds, but she didn't really mind.
Elizabeth entered the chapel, and paused by the door uncertainly. Mark came to her and tucked her hand over his arm, just as he had when guiding her away from the party at his aunt's. She thought he looked stunningly attractive today, the pearly grey blue of the waistcoat his valet had chosen deepened and reflected the colour of his eyes.
He regarded her with obvious pleasure. "My lovely bride, you look absolutely adorable," he whispered as he drew her forward.
There were several people present, which surprised Elizabeth, as she'd expected just two witnesses and themselves, but she didn't pay much attention to them as Mark led her past.
The ceremony itself did not seem any less interminable to Elizabeth as one of the principles, than it had watching her older siblings marry. She felt she was probably lacking in proper feeling and piety, and tried not to fidget.
Partway through, the clergyman halted the ceremony when she did not respond with quite the correct wording. "Marriage is serious business," he scolded fiercely, and asked her if she had seriously considered it.
Elizabeth, embarrassed but defiant, said that she had. "And I really feel that the troubles and difficulties arising from being wed, will be much less than the difficulties arising from being unwed."
Mark raised an eyebrow, and asked her in an amused tone, "You feel that there will be difficulties in being wed to me?"
"I'm almost certain of it," Elizabeth replied seriously.
Mark gave her a brilliant grin of pure delight.
"Oh," said Elizabeth, and raised a hand toward his face, but let it drop before touching him, and flushed.
"What?" he asked, catching her hand.
Still blushing she asked shyly, "Can I tell you later?"
He nodded, but then asked, "What sort of difficulties are you anticipating?"
'Too many, and too nebulous,' thought Elizabeth, but she answered seriously, "One of the more significant is that I've no idea what the duties of a Marchioness are."
He regarded her, eyes still dancing, but replied steadily, "For the first few years at least, I think I can spare you from any but the duties of a wife. I have after all managed on my own as Marques for nearly a decade. Though there will be unavoidable social obligations."
"Alright," nodded Elizabeth.
He slid his arm about her waist and they faced the clergyman again. "My bride has obviously been seriously considering the implications of our marriage. May we proceed?" he asked.
The ceremony was allowed to continue.
When it came time for the ring, Elizabeth was amazed when Mark produced a gold wedding band and doubly amazed when it fit her. It was a beautiful little thing decorated subtly with entwined vines. Elizabeth loved it. When she asked him how he'd managed it later, he confessed to having taken the measure of her finger while she slept.
When they came to the signing, Mark's friends, Bernie (the Honorable Bernard Winton) and Lady Kateri Blackwell stood as their witnesses. Elizabeth was privately surprised at the pure delight the small blonde ringletted Lady Blackwell seemed to take in meeting her. The tall imposing Sir Blackwell stood beside his wife with a cheerfully curious expression.
Elizabeth was not completely unfamiliar with Mark's friends, but Bernie was the only one that she'd been previously introduced to. She supposed he'd been reluctant because weddings always took place before noon, and he was a famously late riser.
She was then truly shocked and over-awed to discover that the rest of their small company consisted of the Prince Regent and the minimum of retainers such an important person was allowed to travel with. This august personage informed the startled bride cheerfully that he'd asked to attend during Lord Waverly's visit to the palace, when Lord Waverly had revealed that he'd just spent much of his day arranging his wedding.
Mark smiled wryly at Elizabeth when she glanced at him. He whispered to her that she'd still have to be presented at court eventually. Then he guided his new wife out of the church and helped her into his curricle.
"Because there's no reason to use the coach on such a fine day, now that I have you safely wed," he told her with a brilliant smile, and took her home.
They were greeted with celebration by the entire household, all dressed in their best finery, gathered on the steps. The chef outdid himself with their wedding breakfast, which was being served late enough in the day that Elizabeth could eat it.
Elizabeth asked, while helping herself to another glistening serving of decorative flowers crafted in some cunning fashion of potatoes from the colonies, if the whole household would get to share in the feast? Devons assured his Lady that it was so.
Mark informed his bride cautiously, because he hadn't consulted her, that he'd declined to have their wedding cake made. He said that he'd thought perhaps Elizabeth would prefer to save that portion of the celebration for when they visited her family.
He was a little taken aback when his pretty wife burst into tears. "Yes," she said, standing up and running around the table to him. He pulled her into his lap. "Thank you Mark," Elizabeth told her husband, hugging him tightly.
"If you're happy about it, why are you crying?" he asked her gently.
She confessed her thoughts of the morning, that she had wished after all that her family could have seen her. He cuddled her in his lap.
When she had calmed he gently teased her. "It's been years since I've been able to eat with a pretty girl warming my lap," he said with a grin.
She regarded him with wide curious eyes.
"Eating with a tavern wench on your knee is below the dignity of a Marques," he explained with another grin.
"Have you eaten with a tavern wench on your knee?" she asked him.
His grin faded a little as he realized that his young wife might not find it so humorous. But he answered honestly, "I have, many times, in my wild youth, for I spent several years prone to racing and taverns and other young men's pastimes."
She leaned against him thoughtfully.
He offered her a tidbit from his fingers. She accepted it shyly, shivering when his fingertips brushed her lips.
"What thought struck you earlier, that you asked to tell me later?" he asked her.
She blushed deeply and buried her face against his hair before answering very quietly, "You smiled at me."
"Don't I smile at you fairly often?" he asked curiously.
Elizabeth lifted her head and gazed into his pale grey blue eyes, "not like that, not with such," she searched for words, "joy?" she offered hesitantly. She hid her face against him again and confessed, "It made my heart stop for a moment I think."
Mark held his pretty young wife almost reverently for awhile, and then overcome with need, coaxed her up to their room.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
On the morning of the wedding, Antoinette put up Elizabeth's hair in an elaborate flower woven weave. Mark left early in the curricle, "To collect my reluctant best man," he told her with a laugh. Elizabeth and Antoinette were to follow in the coach.
Elizabeth surprised herself by wishing that her mother and sisters might have been able to see her so finely dressed for her wedding. Until that morning Elizabeth had been pleased with this quiet wedding plan, for she hadn't enjoyed the fuss surrounding her elder sister's weddings.
At the church, Antoinette fussed and tweaked a few things, then settled a finely woven veil that she had acquired into the weave of Elizabeth's hair. She secured it with a couple pins, rather than the fancy hair ornaments that Elizabeth's sisters had used. Elizabeth realized these were items that had been left out due to her shortage of funds, but she didn't really mind.
Elizabeth entered the chapel, and paused by the door uncertainly. Mark came to her and tucked her hand over his arm, just as he had when guiding her away from the party at his aunt's. She thought he looked stunningly attractive today, the pearly grey blue of the waistcoat his valet had chosen deepened and reflected the colour of his eyes.
He regarded her with obvious pleasure. "My lovely bride, you look absolutely adorable," he whispered as he drew her forward.
There were several people present, which surprised Elizabeth, as she'd expected just two witnesses and themselves, but she didn't pay much attention to them as Mark led her past.
The ceremony itself did not seem any less interminable to Elizabeth as one of the principles, than it had watching her older siblings marry. She felt she was probably lacking in proper feeling and piety, and tried not to fidget.
Partway through, the clergyman halted the ceremony when she did not respond with quite the correct wording. "Marriage is serious business," he scolded fiercely, and asked her if she had seriously considered it.
Elizabeth, embarrassed but defiant, said that she had. "And I really feel that the troubles and difficulties arising from being wed, will be much less than the difficulties arising from being unwed."
Mark raised an eyebrow, and asked her in an amused tone, "You feel that there will be difficulties in being wed to me?"
"I'm almost certain of it," Elizabeth replied seriously.
Mark gave her a brilliant grin of pure delight.
"Oh," said Elizabeth, and raised a hand toward his face, but let it drop before touching him, and flushed.
"What?" he asked, catching her hand.
Still blushing she asked shyly, "Can I tell you later?"
He nodded, but then asked, "What sort of difficulties are you anticipating?"
'Too many, and too nebulous,' thought Elizabeth, but she answered seriously, "One of the more significant is that I've no idea what the duties of a Marchioness are."
He regarded her, eyes still dancing, but replied steadily, "For the first few years at least, I think I can spare you from any but the duties of a wife. I have after all managed on my own as Marques for nearly a decade. Though there will be unavoidable social obligations."
"Alright," nodded Elizabeth.
He slid his arm about her waist and they faced the clergyman again. "My bride has obviously been seriously considering the implications of our marriage. May we proceed?" he asked.
The ceremony was allowed to continue.
When it came time for the ring, Elizabeth was amazed when Mark produced a gold wedding band and doubly amazed when it fit her. It was a beautiful little thing decorated subtly with entwined vines. Elizabeth loved it. When she asked him how he'd managed it later, he confessed to having taken the measure of her finger while she slept.
When they came to the signing, Mark's friends, Bernie (the Honorable Bernard Winton) and Lady Kateri Blackwell stood as their witnesses. Elizabeth was privately surprised at the pure delight the small blonde ringletted Lady Blackwell seemed to take in meeting her. The tall imposing Sir Blackwell stood beside his wife with a cheerfully curious expression.
Elizabeth was not completely unfamiliar with Mark's friends, but Bernie was the only one that she'd been previously introduced to. She supposed he'd been reluctant because weddings always took place before noon, and he was a famously late riser.
She was then truly shocked and over-awed to discover that the rest of their small company consisted of the Prince Regent and the minimum of retainers such an important person was allowed to travel with. This august personage informed the startled bride cheerfully that he'd asked to attend during Lord Waverly's visit to the palace, when Lord Waverly had revealed that he'd just spent much of his day arranging his wedding.
Mark smiled wryly at Elizabeth when she glanced at him. He whispered to her that she'd still have to be presented at court eventually. Then he guided his new wife out of the church and helped her into his curricle.
"Because there's no reason to use the coach on such a fine day, now that I have you safely wed," he told her with a brilliant smile, and took her home.
They were greeted with celebration by the entire household, all dressed in their best finery, gathered on the steps. The chef outdid himself with their wedding breakfast, which was being served late enough in the day that Elizabeth could eat it.
Elizabeth asked, while helping herself to another glistening serving of decorative flowers crafted in some cunning fashion of potatoes from the colonies, if the whole household would get to share in the feast? Devons assured his Lady that it was so.
Mark informed his bride cautiously, because he hadn't consulted her, that he'd declined to have their wedding cake made. He said that he'd thought perhaps Elizabeth would prefer to save that portion of the celebration for when they visited her family.
He was a little taken aback when his pretty wife burst into tears. "Yes," she said, standing up and running around the table to him. He pulled her into his lap. "Thank you Mark," Elizabeth told her husband, hugging him tightly.
"If you're happy about it, why are you crying?" he asked her gently.
She confessed her thoughts of the morning, that she had wished after all that her family could have seen her. He cuddled her in his lap.
When she had calmed he gently teased her. "It's been years since I've been able to eat with a pretty girl warming my lap," he said with a grin.
She regarded him with wide curious eyes.
"Eating with a tavern wench on your knee is below the dignity of a Marques," he explained with another grin.
"Have you eaten with a tavern wench on your knee?" she asked him.
His grin faded a little as he realized that his young wife might not find it so humorous. But he answered honestly, "I have, many times, in my wild youth, for I spent several years prone to racing and taverns and other young men's pastimes."
She leaned against him thoughtfully.
He offered her a tidbit from his fingers. She accepted it shyly, shivering when his fingertips brushed her lips.
"What thought struck you earlier, that you asked to tell me later?" he asked her.
She blushed deeply and buried her face against his hair before answering very quietly, "You smiled at me."
"Don't I smile at you fairly often?" he asked curiously.
Elizabeth lifted her head and gazed into his pale grey blue eyes, "not like that, not with such," she searched for words, "joy?" she offered hesitantly. She hid her face against him again and confessed, "It made my heart stop for a moment I think."
Mark held his pretty young wife almost reverently for awhile, and then overcome with need, coaxed her up to their room.
On the morning of the wedding, Antoinette put up Elizabeth's hair in an elaborate flower woven weave. Mark left early in the curricle, "To collect my reluctant best man," he told her with a laugh. Elizabeth and Antoinette were to follow in the coach. Elizabeth surprised herself by wishing that her mother and sisters might have been able to see her so finely dressed for her wedding. Until that morning Elizabeth had been pleased with this quiet wedding plan, for she hadn't enjoyed the fuss surrounding her elder sister's weddings. At the church, Antoinette fussed and tweaked a few things, then settled a finely woven veil that she had acquired into the weave of Elizabeth's hair. She secured it with a couple pins, rather than the fancy hair ornaments that Elizabeth's sisters had used. Elizabeth realized these were items that had been left out due to her shortage of funds, but she didn't really mind. Elizabeth entered the chapel, and paused by the door uncertainly. Mark came to her and tucked her hand over his arm, just as he had when guiding her away from the party at his aunt's. She thought he looked stunningly attractive today, the pearly grey blue of the waistcoat his valet had chosen deepened and reflected the colour of his eyes. He regarded her with obvious pleasure. "My lovely bride, you look absolutely adorable," he whispered as he drew her forward. There were several people present, which surprised Elizabeth, as she'd expected just two witnesses and themselves, but she didn't pay much attention to them as Mark led her past. The ceremony itself did not seem any less interminable to Elizabeth as one of the principles, than it had watching her older siblings marry. She felt she was probably lacking in proper feeling and piety, and tried not to fidget. Partway through, the clergyman halted the ceremony when she did not respond with quite the correct wording. "Marriage is serious business," he scolded fiercely, and asked her if she had seriously considered it. Elizabeth, embarrassed but defiant, said that she had. "And I really feel that the troubles and difficulties arising from being wed, will be much less than the difficulties arising from being unwed." Mark raised an eyebrow, and asked her in an amused tone, "You feel that there will be difficulties in being wed to me?" "I'm almost certain of it," Elizabeth replied seriously. Mark gave her a brilliant grin of pure delight. "Oh," said Elizabeth, and raised a hand toward his face, but let it drop before touching him, and flushed. "What?" he asked, catching her hand. Still blushing she asked shyly, "Can I tell you later?" He nodded, but then asked, "What sort of difficulties are you anticipating?" 'Too many, and too nebulous,' thought Elizabeth, but she answered seriously, "One of the more significant is that I've no idea what the duties of a Marchioness are." He regarded her, eyes still dancing, but replied steadily, "For the first few years at least, I think I can spare you from any but the duties of a wife. I have after all managed on my own as Marques for nearly a decade. Though there will be unavoidable social obligations." "Alright," nodded Elizabeth. He slid his arm about her waist and they faced the clergyman again. "My bride has obviously been seriously considering the implications of our marriage. May we proceed?" he asked. The ceremony was allowed to continue. When it came time for the ring, Elizabeth was amazed when Mark produced a gold wedding band and doubly amazed when it fit her. It was a beautiful little thing decorated subtly with entwined vines. Elizabeth loved it. When she asked him how he'd managed it later, he confessed to having taken the measure of her finger while she slept. When they came to the signing, Mark's friends, Bernie the Honorable Bernard Winton and Lady Kateri Blackwell stood as their witnesses. Elizabeth was privately surprised at the pure delight the small blonde ringletted Lady Blackwell seemed to take in meeting her. The tall imposing Sir Blackwell stood beside his wife with a cheerfully curious expression. Elizabeth was not completely unfamiliar with Mark's friends, but Bernie was the only one that she'd been previously introduced to. She supposed he'd been reluctant because weddings always took place before noon, and he was a famously late riser. She was then truly shocked and over-awed to discover that the rest of their small company consisted of the Prince Regent and the minimum of retainers such an important person was allowed to travel with. This august personage informed the startled bride cheerfully that he'd asked to attend during Lord Waverly's visit to the palace, when Lord Waverly had revealed that he'd just spent much of his day arranging his wedding. Mark smiled wryly at Elizabeth when she glanced at him. He whispered to her that she'd still have to be presented at court eventually. Then he guided his new wife out of the church and helped her into his curricle. "Because there's no reason to use the coach on such a fine day, now that I have you safely wed," he told her with a brilliant smile, and took her home. They were greeted with celebration by the entire household, all dressed in their best finery, gathered on the steps. The chef outdid himself with their wedding breakfast, which was being served late enough in the day that Elizabeth could eat it. Elizabeth asked, while helping herself to another glistening serving of decorative flowers crafted in some cunning fashion of potatoes from the colonies, if the whole household would get to share in the feast? Devons assured his Lady that it was so. Mark informed his bride cautiously, because he hadn't consulted her, that he'd declined to have their wedding cake made. He said that he'd thought perhaps Elizabeth would prefer to save that portion of the celebration for when they visited her family. He was a little taken aback when his pretty wife burst into tears. "Yes," she said, standing up and running around the table to him. He pulled her into his lap. "Thank you Mark," Elizabeth told her husband, hugging him tightly. "If you're happy about it, why are you crying?" he asked her gently. She confessed her thoughts of the morning, that she had wished after all that her family could have seen her. He cuddled her in his lap. When she had calmed he gently teased her. "It's been years since I've been able to eat with a pretty girl warming my lap," he said with a grin. She regarded him with wide curious eyes. "Eating with a tavern wench on your knee is below the dignity of a Marques," he explained with another grin. "Have you eaten with a tavern wench on your knee?" she asked him. His grin faded a little as he realized that his young wife might not find it so humorous. But he answered honestly, "I have, many times, in my wild youth, for I spent several years prone to racing and taverns and other young men's pastimes." She leaned against him thoughtfully. He offered her a tidbit from his fingers. She accepted it shyly, shivering when his fingertips brushed her lips. "What thought struck you earlier, that you asked to tell me later?" he asked her. She blushed deeply and buried her face against his hair before answering very quietly, "You smiled at me." "Don't I smile at you fairly often?" he asked curiously. Elizabeth lifted her head and gazed into his pale grey blue eyes, "not like that, not with such," she searched for words, "joy?" she offered hesitantly. She hid her face against him again and confessed, "It made my heart stop for a moment I think." Mark held his pretty young wife almost reverently for awhile, and then overcome with need, coaxed her up to their room.
