Luckily, Constantia arrived the next day, along with her husband and her brothers. Since they had all had some business to attend to in Town before heading into the country to be present at Amelia's wedding, they had not been able to come to Burwell with her and her parents. But now they were there, and Amelia was glad to have them with her, since they were a cheerful addition to their party, and likely to distract her mother's mind from the protection of Amelia's virtue.
While the Duchess and Amelia's mother were both very busy with the preparations for Amelia's wedding, they did not need her help, it seemed, or they did not want her to take part in them. Judging by their behaviour, Amelia suspected that all she needed to do for her wedding was be there on the appointed day and give the appropriate answers in church. She would have liked to help with the planning of her wedding, but once her mother had told her not to meddle with what she did not understand, she gave up on it. Instead, she assisted Edward in entertaining the young guests in Burwell Castle.
They organised outings for them, walked in the gardens, put the bowling green to its proper use and held an archery contest. Amelia won that one, but lost at bowling, gracefully accepting defeat at her brother Gregory's hands.
They spent one particularly rainy day preparing for a shadow theatre performance, drawing and cutting out the paper dolls that were to impersonate the characters, choosing a play to perform, rehearsing the comedy and its musical accompaniment and, which was the most important part, having tremendous fun while doing so. The performance in the evening was a huge success, not only among the audience but also among the performers, who had got so much enjoyment out of the venture that they planned to repeat it soon. However, since the weather improved the next day, their next performance was postponed until there was another rainy day that had to be spent profitably.
The arrival of Lady Roderick Andell and her son Henry put a damper on Edward's spirits, as Amelia was well aware. It was obvious that, among the Duke's many relatives that gathered in Burwell Castle, they were the least favourite guests. While the Duke and Duchess treated them with all the civility due to all their guests, Lady Roderick still managed to look constantly offended without a good reason, and Henry Andell was little better.
It was on the day before their wedding when the betrothed couple finally had some time to themselves again, as Amelia was in the rose garden, picking flowers for the decoration of the church one task that her mother and the Duchess had allowed her to perform. Edward had volunteered to come with her and carry her basket for her, something any of the under gardeners might have done, but she had understood his intention and gladly accepted his offer of assistance.
"By this time tomorrow we will be married and on our way," he remarked as she turned to him and put some roses into the basket. "Are you nervous?"
"Not yet," Amelia said. "But no doubt tonight, at the latest, I will be. I am glad I am allowed to choose the flowers for the decorations at least; I was afraid my mother did not want me to take part in my own wedding."
"Apart from the obvious part, you mean? I was not required to do much, either."
"Were you glad about that?"
"Not really. I wish I could have done more, but no one asked me." He smiled. "It was almost as if no one wanted me to participate."
"I thought so too my mother and yours did all the work, and did not want me to get involved, even though I am the bride. It is almost as if they did not think me equal to it."
"We will play our part tomorrow, though," Edward said, and pulled her towards him. "Will we play it well? What do you think?" He placed a kiss on her forehead, and let her go.
"I will certainly do my best," Amelia said, smiling shyly at him. "Our part does not end tomorrow."
"I know that. But the audience will lose their interest after tomorrow and go home. We'll be left to shift for ourselves then."
"Thank you," Amelia said. "Now you have made me nervous."
"It was not my intention. I am worried enough for the two of us."
"What worries you?" Amelia asked.
"Oh, a great deal. The future I worry about being a good husband, for example, and I hope I will not make any unforgivable mistakes once we are married. I do not want to end up like Lady Mary's husband, with a wife who won't even see me after our wedding night. Though as far as I know he was an unpleasant character and I am not. I hope."
"You are not, unless I am very much mistaken," Amelia said. She was already acquainted with the family legend of Lady Mary Andell, who had returned to her father's house the day after her wedding and had threatened to kill both her husband and herself if she was forced to return to him. The marriage was annulled, and Lady Mary spent her remaining days in Burwell Castle.
"I do not think I will run away from you," she added.
"How touching," a drawling voice was heard behind them, and as they both spun around, they found Cousin Henry at the entrance of the rose garden, favouring them with an impudent grin. "Doesn't this sound just like professions of undying love?"
"Go and pester someone else, Henry," Edward said angrily. "I'd like to know what business of yours it is to be listening in on people's private conversations."
"Oh, I came here quite by accident." Henry grinned. "I did not mean to intrude. The rose garden is well worth seeing at this time of year, wouldn't you agree, Lady Amelia?"
"Indeed," Amelia managed to say.
"I am glad to see that my cousin is trying to enter into at least one of your interests, ma'am. Such a dutiful husband as he is trying to be!"
Amelia flushed. A dutiful husband was not the same as a loving one. A dutiful husband would make sure his wife had everything she needed, even though he had ceased to feel anything for her if he had ever had any fondness for her to start with. She did not want a dutiful husband; she wanted a loving one, but she would be damned if she said so to Henry Andell, who, she was convinced, was as spiteful a creature as she had ever come across.
"I do not think, sir, that you need worry about what kind of husband I am going to have," she said stiffly. "And now, unless you wish to make yourself useful in one way or another, I must ask you to leave. There is work I must get done."
With an exaggerated bow, Henry Andell left, but the harm was done the spell was broken. Amelia cut her roses in silence, and it was not until they walked back to the house with two baskets full of flowers that Edward spoke to her.
"Don't let my cousin irritate you, Amelia. He knows that our marriage will put his nose out of joint, and that is why he wants to cause some mischief between us."
"Is this why you are marrying me? To put Mr Andell's nose out of joint?" Amelia asked.
"It was what my father had in mind when he made that match," Edward admitted. "But no, I am not marrying you to spite my cousin. I am marrying you because this is what I want; because you are the woman I want to grow old with."
"And you want children?"
"Naturally. That is, they will be very welcome if and when they arrive, but they are not my main reason for this marriage. If that was my only cause for considering matrimony I could have married years ago and get it over and done with. I don't want a brood mare, Amelia," he said, unconsciously using the same term his cousin had employed on that fateful evening at White's. "I want a wife."
Amelia's sisters slept in her room that night. Penelope, her eldest sister, had only arrived that day she lived in Northumberland and had not managed to get to Burwell any earlier. Since Amelia was going to leave them the next day, she said, she wanted to spend as much time as she could with her youngest sister, and Amelia agreed. She had not seen Penelope for more than a year, and knew that she would probably not see her again for another. Constantia also wanted to make use of "their last chance to spend some time with each other", and so they retired to bed early. It would have been perfect if her sister Jane had been with them too, but she was in daily expectation of giving birth to her fourth child, and had sent her excuses as well as her best wishes for Amelia's happiness. Still, it was almost like the old days there'd been many such evenings before Penelope had married, and they'd still been together in their father's house in Wincham.
"Has Mama already given you her talk?" Constantia asked with a grin, once their maids had left the room and they were sitting up in Amelia's bed.
"Something of the kind," Amelia said. "She said I am to allow my husband whatever liberties he chooses to take with me in the privacy of my bedchamber."
Constantia chuckled. "She gets better every time."
"I suppose she did not describe those liberties in detail, did she?" Penelope asked.
"She didn't need to."
"No?" Penelope stared at her, shocked. "Do you mean to tell me that you have already ?"
"No!" Amelia cried, flushing to the roots of her hair. "That's not what I meant!"
"I would have been very surprised if Asterby had done such a thing," Constantia remarked. "He does no look like that kind of man to me."
"What kind of man?" Amelia demanded, ready to defend her soon-to-be husband.
"The kind who would take up marital relations with you before getting married," Constantia replied.
"He did kiss me," Amelia confessed. "Whenever we were alone for a moment."
"If I know anything of my mother that was not often," Penelope said with a chuckle.
"No, it was not," Amelia said. "Not often enough," she added as an afterthought.
This comment made both her sisters laugh. "It appears that this little bride is in love," Penelope said to Constantia. "Asterby is a lucky man."
"He will get a devoted wife," Constantia agreed. "Provided he knows how to keep her regard alive. So you do not want us to tell you what awaits you in the wedded state, Amelia? Are you sure you know everything you need to know even the bits Mama would not tell you?"
"Well," Amelia said hesitantly, "I think I could do with some advice."
She spent the next half hour listening to her sisters, and by the end of it her ideas of marriage were rather different than before. In fact, she did not know what to think. Penelope's marriage was quite a happy one, as far as she could tell she had followed her husband to his estate in Northumberland and had never complained, even though she had loved being in Town. Constantia was worse off. Her husband did not care much for her, and avoided her company whenever he could. Constantia acted as if she did not mind, but Amelia knew that she was anything but happy with the way her life had turned out.
Since their relationships with their husbands were very different, so were their descriptions of what happened in their bedrooms. The picture Constantia painted, without going into much detail, was enough to make Amelia hope that her husband would not want her company too often. If it were not for Penelope's quite different description, she would probably have been terrified of her wedding night. But when Penelope told her that she had always found the intimacies between herself and her husband highly enjoyable, her nerves calmed down somewhat. Penelope loved her husband, and he seemed to be equally fond of her. If she managed to make Edward return her feelings, maybe there was some hope that their married life could be just as pleasant for them. It was not an unreasonable hope, she thought.
A maid brought them hot chocolate and bread-and-butter early in the morning, and Constantia said that this was going to be the last quiet hour Amelia would have all day. She was right.
Once they had finished their cocoa and bread and butter and Amelia had got out of bed, the Duchess and Amelia's mother descended upon her, together with what looked to her like an army of maidservants, to get her ready for her wedding.
While Amelia had always taken good care of her appearance, she had never gone to such lengths to achieve a creditable result as her mother and mother-in-law appeared to require on her wedding day.
After having had her bath and put on her chemise, Amelia had to sit down at her dressing table and, while two maids were piling up her curls on top of her head to fashion a stylish coiffure, two more girls were busy treating her face and hands with whatever beautifying substances they could lay their hands on. Before her very eyes, they turned Amelia into a creature that she hardly recognised.
Her mother and the Duchess, overseeing the process, openly discussed Amelia's looks, and occasionally took a hand in the matter, such as when the Duchess put the most beautiful pearl necklace Amelia had ever seen round her neck.
"I wore it at my own wedding," she explained. "I thought you might like to wear it at yours; especially since it appears to match your dress so well. The pearls are only a loan, of course; I am most attached to them."
"Thank you, ma'am," Amelia said, with a smile. "The pearls are lovely I am honoured to be allowed to wear them." She felt that this was a wonderful gesture from the woman whose son she was going to marry.
She looked into the mirror, and noticed tears running down her mother's cheeks. "Crying, Mama?" she asked. "Why? I thought you wanted me to marry?"
"I still do," Lady Wincham said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Indeed I know you must marry, and yet I am reluctant to let you go."
"It is the way of the world, Lady Wincham," the Duchess remarked wisely. "At least you have the comfort of your other children. When my son is gone, Burwell will become very quiet."
Considering that Edward was a very quiet gentleman as a rule, Amelia did wonder at that comment for a moment. However, she put it down to a mother's fear of an empty nest, and refrained from saying anything about it.
Amelia would have preferred to wear a simple morning dress at her wedding, but it was not to be. Her mother had pointed out to her that everyone was going to take an interest in what the future Duke of Burwell's bride wore, and any sign of shabbiness would cause a great deal of remark. Amelia had protested that she had no intention of looking shabby, but without success. One had certain obligations to one's station in life, her mother had said, and had decreed that she was to wear a heavily embroidered French robe of pale blue silk over a petticoat of silver net, which in Amelia's opinion looked much too grand for the occasion.
It was not until Amelia got up from the dressing table and looked into the large mirror that had been carried into her room for the purpose that she saw what she looked like.
"Oh my," she cried, looking at her reflection. "Are you sure E Asterby is going to recognise me when I arrive in church? I hardly recognise myself!"
The Duchess laughed. "He will, my dear," she promised.
Once the bride was fully dressed, the other ladies hurried off to finish their own toilettes, not without telling Amelia that she was not to leave her room and let herself be seen until she was supposed to.
"The bride and groom must not see each other before the marriage ceremony," her mother reminded her. "We do not want you to meet accidentally you will stay in your room until he has left the house and gone to church."
Amelia nodded, and sat down in her chair again, trying to while away the time until she was allowed to leave her room by reading a book. But she could not achieve the peace of mind that was necessary for reading; too many thoughts kept her from concentrating and so, after maybe half an hour, she gave up on reading and picked up her work basket instead, intending to pass her time by doing some embroidery. This was how her sisters found her when they entered her room again once they had finished dressing, and it caused them great amusement.
"Look at her, sitting here as cool as a cucumber, working on her sampler as if she was not going to be married in less than an hour," Constantia cried. "My dearest, are you not nervous?"
"Very," Amelia confessed. "Which is why I tried to do something to take my mind off the wedding."
"And then we came and turned your mind back to it," Penelope said. "Constantia, we are a pair of villains. You look beautiful, Amelia, you really do. If Asterby is not in love with you already, he will fall in love with you the moment he sees you in church. He won't be able to help himself."
Amelia blushed. Things were not as easy as that, she knew; yet she wished they were.
"He'd be a fool indeed if he did not know what a treasure he is about to get," Constantia said. "And we all know that Asterby is anything but a fool. From the day he called on me to find out more about you did I ever tell you that this was what he did? I knew that you will have a good husband. I hope you will both be very happy."
"I hope so too," Amelia said.
The door opened, and her mother and the Duchess came in.
"My son has left and gone to church," the Duchess announced. "You may come downstairs now, my dear."
Amelia nodded. Her maid made a few more adjustments to her dress, and Amelia left her room. Her father was waiting for her outside in the corridor.
He gave her a cheerful smile. "Your mother has already told me that you have never been in better looks," he said. "She was right."
"Thank you, Papa," Amelia whispered. "You look very fine, too." Everyone did, coming to think of it.
The wedding guests, apart from Edward and Amelia's immediate family, had already left the house and were on their way to the church of Burwell, where the Bishop of Norton, a distant relative of Amelia's, was to perform the wedding service. Only the servants were lined up at the bottom of the stairs, to catch a glimpse of Lord Asterby's bride and offer their congratulations, since they would not be at leisure to do so when the bride and groom returned from church. There were many familiar faces among them; Amelia had got to know most of them during her stay in Burwell Castle, and surprised them by remembering their names and thanking them very prettily for their good wishes.
Meanwhile, the carriages for the bridal party had arrived at the front entrance. Only as she stepped outside the house Amelia noticed that it was a very fine day that the sun was shining and there was not a cloud in sight.
"We are very lucky with the weather," she remarked.
"We could not have chosen a better day for the wedding," her mother agreed, embraced Amelia and gave her a kiss on her cheek. "I will see you in church," she said. "Make me proud." For once it seemed as if Lady Wincham had forgotten about her own rule regarding wearing one's heart on one's sleeve.
Amelia and her father got into the last carriage. There was a somewhat awkward silence between them, as if neither of them knew what to say to the other.
In the end it was Amelia who asked her father, "Have you seen Lord Asterby today?"
"I did; just before he went off to church."
"Did he look handsome?"
"I am no judge of that, my dear, but I think his appearance leaves nothing to be desired."
"Was he nervous?"
Her father laughed. "He did not show it, but I think he was. I believe his hand was shaking a little when he put on his hat."
"I hope this wedding is truly what he wants," Amelia said.
"Don't worry, Amelia. It is," her father said curtly. "I spoke to him yesterday evening, when you'd gone to bed, and I am convinced that he can think of nothing better than being married to you."
They had reached the outskirts of the town by that time, and the sound of cheering made Amelia look out of the carriage window. She found all the town residents lining the main street, dressed in their Sunday best, waving and cheering at her. Amelia tentatively waved back, and was surprised to find that this appeared to make the people applaud even more loudly.
She looked at her father, slightly taken aback. "Why is everyone here?" she asked.
"You are their future duchess," her father explained. "They want to catch a glimpse of you. Can you blame them? It will be something to tell their children and grandchildren I was there when the Duke and Duchess got married."
"Asterby is no duke yet."
"He will be, one day. For these people, your wedding is of greater importance even than a coronation it concerns them more closely. They will be your husband's dependants, you know, and yours as well."
Amelia understood. Her father was right for those people, she was going to be more important than the Queen. They would depend on her to look after them, just as they would depend on her husband. They would expect her to take up their cause if her husband failed them to remind him of his obligations towards them. They hoped she would not choose the fashionable life in London over their quiet country town; to spend their hard-earned money on finery and gamble away the rest, as some great ladies did without compunction. She sighed. There was more to being married than she had suspected at first.
Then they arrived at the church. Her bridesmaids were already waiting for her, and once more her attire underwent some last minute adjustments.
Once Amelia entered the church, leaning on her father's arm, everything went by pretty fast, and she would have been hard-pressed to remember any details of her wedding ceremony.
What she was going to remember to her dying breath, however, was the way Edward's face brightened when he saw her come towards him. There was some relief in his smile, Amelia thought, as if he had been afraid of her calling the wedding off at the last moment, but there was more to it than that. His smile was welcoming.
After a few moments, however, the smile vanished, and was replaced by an earnest expression. The wedding ceremony began. Her eyes met Edward's as they said their vows, and he held her gaze, as if to tell her that he truly meant what he said to her, in front of the Bishop and the entire congregation. He spoke in a loud, clear voice, and she did her best to follow his example but was afraid that she had failed, speaking too hastily and, maybe, a bit too softly due to her nerves. Neither the Bishop nor Edward appeared to find any fault with her performance, however. They were pronounced man and wife, and the service went its usual course.
Later, as they left the church, they found some of the townspeople standing outside in the churchyard, waiting to congratulate the newlyweds. Amelia, holding on to Edward's arm, patiently listened to children reciting poems, and graciously received bunches of flowers from the local women. It was later remarked among them that her ladyship was a very fine lady indeed and not at all high in the instep.
Edward thanked them for their congratulations and their good wishes, and after inviting them all to the local inn, where there was a wedding breakfast waiting for the good people of Burwell, he drew a purse from his pocket and handed out its contents among the children surrounding them.
The townspeople made room for the wedding guests, and only when the bridal couple had received their congratulations as well, they were allowed to take their places in a carriage the same that had taken the bride and her father to church and were finally alone with each other.
"You are very popular with the people here," Amelia remarked, as she looked out at the cheering crowd.
"Today I am. I hope I will be able to secure their regard, once I am in charge here," he replied. "In Asterby I believe I am well-liked, so that should not be much of a problem."
"We are to have another such welcome?"
He laughed. "It is not unlikely," he said. "Amelia, when you came into the church, you looked so beautiful that you quite took my breath away. I could hardly believe-"
"Your eyes?" Amelia asked, interrupting him.
"I was going to say my good fortune," Edward said, taking her hand. "I felt there was no man as lucky as me." He kissed her hand, and her wrist. "You won't ever have reason to regret this day's work. I promise."
"If I had had any fears regarding that matter," Amelia replied, "I would not have married you."
Edward, apparently satisfied with that answer, pulled Amelia into his arms and kissed her soundly. "It is too bad that we are supposed to be present at our wedding breakfast," he whispered into her ear afterwards, still holding her tight. "I can think of much more pleasant things we could be doing instead."
"Someone must cut the wedding cake," Amelia reminded him.
"Does it have to be us?"
"I am afraid so."
"What would you say if I asked you to elope with me now?"
"I would say that, firstly, an elopement is no longer necessary since we are married and, secondly, that we have no luggage with us, which might turn out to be a problem later."
"Are you always so practically minded, my dear?"
"It is what is expected of wives," Amelia pointed out. "We are supposed to take care of practical matters.
"The Bishop forgot to mention that."
"I believe it has something to do with the mutual society, help, and comfort he talked about."
"You may be right. An interesting theological question. I shall put it to the Bishop at that dam ... dashed wedding breakfast."
"That should keep you both busy for a while," Amelia said. "Until we cut the cake."
"I really wish we could just spend some time alone somewhere," Edward said, after a few moments.
"Edward, what do an hour or two matter in a lifetime? We have plenty of time before us to do whatever we like; surely that wedding breakfast is not that much of an ordeal?"
"Amelia?"
"Yes?"
"Stop being so sensible."
"Was that an order, sir?"
"That was an order, ma'am."
"In that case, I have no choice but to obey," Amelia laughed.
It was easy to stop being sensible when one's new husband was as good at kissing as Edward.
By the time they arrived at the Orangery, their wedding guests were already waiting for them. Their coachman, probably sympathising with the newlyweds and trying to give them some time alone, had taken a circuitous route back to the Castle, and therefore it was little surprising that they were greeted with general laughter and a couple of risquι jokes that Amelia decided to ignore.
"Got lost on the way?" her brother Gregory asked Edward, and laughed when Edward retorted, "I didn't. The coachman did. Your father's, isn't he?"
Inside the Orangery, a large table had been laid for the party, and as the servants began to serve the breakfast Amelia realised that she was suddenly very hungry. She remembered that she had not eaten anything since her bread and butter early in the morning, and was therefore glad to finally get a substantial meal.
Once they had cut and eaten their wedding cake, Amelia and Edward went back to the house where the servants were busy preparing for a ball that was to take place in the evening to round off the wedding celebrations and put on clothes more suitable for travelling. They were not going to travel all the way to Southampton any more that day, Edward had told her, but he preferred to start their journey immediately and to say the truth, so did Amelia. It was better to leave quickly than to prolong the leave-taking. She would not feel any better for leaving her family behind on the morrow, she knew, and therefore she had agreed with Edward's wish to be gone from Burwell as soon as they could.
Her maid was waiting for her in her room, and had already laid out her travelling dress and cloak. It occurred to Amelia that this girl was the only familiar face she was going to see in a while, and for a moment she became almost panicky. She recovered her calm, however, and once she had changed her dress she went downstairs, where Edward's as well as her family were awaiting them to say goodbye.
Amelia did shed some tears then, hugging her mother and sisters and promising them to write often, if they gave her their word to write back, and finally she took her leave of her father and brothers, and the Duke and Duchess. Edward tactfully remained in the background, and only when Amelia was ready to go he led her outside where their travelling carriage was already waiting, and assisted her in getting in.
As their carriage took them away from Burwell, Amelia suffered another bout of dejection, and once again began to cry.
"I am sorry," she sobbed, when Edward put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him trying to soothe her. "I cannot help it; I was perfectly fine until I realised that I may never see them again!"
"And what made you think so?" Edward asked calmly. He did not sound in the least offended, although Amelia would not have blamed him if he had taken offence at her behaviour. It did look rather odd, even to herself. But he was acting in a very supportive manner or at least he tried.
"It was just a silly thought of mine," Amelia replied. "I do not know how it entered my head."
"Is it because our wedding tour will take you away from home for several months? We need not go, you know, if you do not feel comfortable about it."
His tone of voice suggested that he was willing to make the sacrifice for her sake though a sacrifice it would be, and no small one, she knew. He'd been looking forward to their wedding tour.
"Do you want to go to Asterby Court instead?" he asked her. "We could stay there for a couple of days and see how you feel about our voyage to Italy then."
"I am looking forward to going to Italy," Amelia replied. "I want to go. It is not that. It is just bridal nerves, I guess." She tried to downplay her attack of nerves with a laugh, but Edward was not deceived. "Everything's so new to me, and a trifle daunting..."
"Are you sure that's all? You can be entirely honest with me, Amelia; in fact I hope you always will be. If there is anything that makes you unhappy, or uncomfortable, please do not hesitate to tell me."
"Right now," Amelia said, feeling rather ashamed of herself, "you are making me feel like the worst person on earth. I have only just got married; I ought to be happy and I am happy, despite appearances and now I am spoiling your day."
He laughed. "It would take more than that, Amelia," he said, and kissed her forehead. "I promise you; should anything of a serious matter happen to any member of your family during our journey, we will go home immediately. Does that make you feel better?"
Amelia nodded. "Yes. It does."
"Were you afraid I was going to keep you away from them? I see no reason why I should; you may see any of them whenever you like; except, maybe, for your brother Gregory when he is in his cups."
This made Amelia laugh. "He is not the most respectable of men, I admit. But he is my brother, and I love him. Besides he is not drunk so very often. No more than other men."
"Oho - and how many of those other men do you know well enough to justify such a verdict, my lady?"
"Enough," Amelia countered. "My brother may be a rake, but he is certainly not the worst of men."
"I daresay he is not. He does have his redeeming qualities," Edward agreed. Amelia realised that by challenging her about her brother he had made her forget about those gloomy thoughts that had made her cry at first. If she had not been smitten with him already, this would have been another reason for falling in love with him.
"Are you feeling better now?" he asked her after a few minutes of silence, during which she had simply enjoyed being held by her husband, and leaning on his shoulder.
"Much better," she replied, looking up at him. "Thank you for being so kind and understanding, and for cheering me up I do not think every man would have been as sympathetic in your place."
"It is a good thing you married me, then, and not Mr Everyman," Edward teased her.
"Oh, my father would never have countenanced the match," Amelia laughed. "A mere mister! Not to be thought of! Why don't you like it when I compliment you, Edward? It is almost as if you did not believe me!"
"I have had my fair share of flattery," Edward said earnestly. "It comes with my rank, I presume. A marquis will never have to go far to find people who are willing to toadeat him. This is how I have learned not to take compliments too seriously and to show that I did not."
"I give you leave to take mine seriously," Amelia said, slightly put out. How was she to win her husband's heart if he tended to treat her heartfelt compliments like empty flattery?
"I know, Amelia I know you are not that kind of woman. But old habits die hard. I am sorry if I have hurt your feelings. I did not mean to."
They did not travel very far that day since Edward had expected to set out on their journey rather late, he had arranged for lodgings in what had been represented to him as a "quiet, respectable hostelry" some thirty miles from Burwell on their way to Southampton. Edward, never having been obliged to spend the night in that area before, had depended on the advice of one of his friends who had and whose advice on such matters as public houses and inns was usually well worth hearing.
As to the respectability of the place there could be no doubt the landlord and landlady were a tidy and friendly pair; the house was clean, and the stables according to Edward's coachman, who certainly was a judge in such matters were well kept. However, Edward began to have some doubts regarding the quietness of the inn not five minutes after their entering it.
Edward had bespoken two rooms, one for himself and one for his wife; as well as accommodation for their attendant servants. Upon their arrival, the landlady took them upstairs to their suite of rooms two bedrooms and one private sitting-room where, she pointed out, they could also eat their dinner if they wished.
"There is a party of young gentlemen who arrived some half an hour ago," she told them rather apologetically, as she opened the doors to their respective bedchambers, "who are also going to spend the night here. It is not the kind of custom we usually entertain, my lady, but one must do what one can to make a living nowadays, and well, the fact of the matter is, their behaviour is a little wild
"
Amelia took the hint and assured the landlady that she was going to have her dinner in their private parlour. She had no desire to meet those "young gentlemen", who were no doubt on their way to see some prize fight or other, or on their way home after having seen it and very much inclined to celebrate the skill of whoever had won that encounter. At any rate, they were not the kind of people she wanted to run into on her wedding night. Edward appeared to agree.
"The less those people outside see of us the better it will be," he said. "Very well we will have dinner in here."
"In an hour," Amelia added. "Or would you prefer to dine earlier?" she asked her husband.
"No, dinner in an hour is perfect." Edward replied. They waited until the landlady had left the room, and then Amelia removed her cloak and hat and sat down on the sofa. There was a knock at the door, and the boots carried in their trunks, followed by Edward's valet who kept a close watch on the proceedings.
Under the guidance of Edward's valet and Amelia's maid, their luggage was placed in their respective bedrooms, and Edward bestowed a generous tip on the boots; one that was enough to make the man very attentive to their needs for the entire evening.
"Tired?" Edward asked, when their servants had disappeared in their rooms to get their evening dress ready for them.
"A little," Amelia confessed. "It has been a long day. What about you? Are you tired?"
"Not really," Edward said. "Though I agree with you it has been a long day."
Shouts of laughter and coarse language outside on the landing made Amelia flinch. One could not help but notice that the walls in this building were not enough to keep the noise out or in.
"It is a pity those fellows had to come here tonight, of all nights," Edward said, frowning. "My friend Peterborough who recommended this place to me told me it was a nice and quiet house to spend a night in."
"Lord Peterborough appears to have been mistaken although one cannot blame either him or you for those young gentlemen. I suppose there is always the chance that they drink themselves into a stupor and fall asleep soon."
Edward, who had encountered more than one party of that kind and had sometimes even been part of one, though he wasn't going to say so to Amelia - , doubted that. Some would drink themselves into a stupor, maybe, but there would be enough of them left to keep them awake all night.
"Luckily this room is between the bedrooms and the landing. That should keep the noise to a tolerable minimum," he said.
"I hope they will not come in during the night," Amelia said. It was not unheard of that a gentleman, in a state of advanced intoxication, mistook the door when finally seeking his bedchamber.
"We can lock the door if it makes you feel safer," Edward said.
"But what if you need your valet what is his name, by the way? or I want Martha?"
"Will you need Martha once you have gone to bed, do you think?"
"Not until the morning," Amelia said. "Not usually, that is."
"So we could unlock the door in the morning."
"Are you usually up before your valet arrives?"
Edward laughed. "Touchι! No, I am not, as Lacy might inform you if he ever felt communicative. I will ask the landlady, if there is another key, and if there is one I will ask for it and give it to Lacy. He can take care of it, and in the morning he can unlock the door. What do you say?"
"This sounds like an excellent idea," Amelia agreed.
"Besides there is no need for you to be afraid," Edward said. "You have a husband with you who will protect you. You must not forget that, Amelia. You won't be alone."
Amelia blushed. That was true. She was not going to spend this night alone. While she was not afraid of what was going to happen that night, she still felt uncomfortable discussing it, and so she fled to her bedroom to get dressed for dinner.
Edward also retired to his bedroom which, he was pleased to note, featured a door connecting it with Amelia's. While getting rid of his travelling suit and exchanging it for some raiment more suitable for a tκte ΰ tκte dinner with his bride, he pondered his situation.
The arrival of that riotous party of young men was most unfortunate, for, he felt, Amelia was not going to feel comfortable about spending the night in the same house as them. For the second time she had surprised him today the first time had been in their carriage, when she had cried because "she might not see her family any more" and had admitted to having an attack of bridal nerves and just now when, after an innocent remark of his, she had blushed furiously and taken refuge in her bedroom.
Amelia had not looked like the shy kind of girl to him in fact, when she had talked to him about mistresses at their first meeting he had been inclined to believe that her awareness of her brothers' affairs had made her more knowledgeable in matters of heart and bedroom than was commonly expected of gently-bred maidens. Apparently this was not so and it was not inconceivable that she should be suffering from anxiety regarding their first night together. Even he was feeling slightly nervous, and he was not without experience. But he was afraid that their first time would be awkward at best, and did not want to completely put her off the act of lovemaking. An interested audience on the other side of a thin wall would do nothing to add to Amelia's comfort or to his, he had to admit.
When he had finished dressing, he took a book from his portmanteau and went back into their parlour, where their dinner table had been laid. Edward sat down in an easy chair by the fire, and started reading hoping to calm his nerves, and not to appear like an agitated schoolboy when his bride joined him. Since she was anxious, he had decided, he must not show any anxiety himself. He was supposed to reassure her, and so he would.
His wife found him sitting by the fire with the landlord standing beside him, studying the wine list to make his choice. He looked up, and once again could not believe his luck. Amelia's sister had told him that his bride was no beauty but she had been wrong. She might not be a beauty in the common sense of the word; her looks were certainly very different from those of the fashionable beauties of the London set. But she was beautiful. Her light-brown curls were neatly arranged, her countenance was glowing, her figure was trim and her mouth all that was tempting. She did not have the doll-like regular features those fashionable beauties had, but she had a great deal of vitality, and radiated a kind of magnetism that he found himself responding to whenever he was in her company. He had felt it from the moment he had first seen her, and suspected that he was going to be devoted to her to his dying day.
Edward got up from his chair, and greeted her with a smile. "Would you like something to drink, my dear?" he asked. "A glass of sherry? Or ratafia, perhaps?"
Amelia agreed to have a glass of sherry, and Edward hurried to provide her with some. The landlord went off after telling them that their dinner would be ready in some twenty minutes.
"You look lovely, Amelia," Edward said, once they were alone in the parlour. "The dress is new, I presume?"
"It is," Amelia said. "Martha appears to think it is not quite the thing to sit down to dine for the first time with one's new husband wearing an old gown."
"She shares Lacy's scruples, presumably."
"I did think your suit was new as well! It becomes you."
"Thank you."
They both took a few sips of their drinks, pondering what to say next in silence. It was a rather awkward silence, since each of them felt that they ought to contribute to the conversation somehow but none of them knew what to say.
It was Edward who finally came up with, "Are you hungry, Amelia?"
"Not very. I had enough to eat at the wedding breakfast."
"That was hours ago!"
"I know, but since I have not done anything more strenuous than sitting in the carriage for the rest of the day I do not feel in need of sustenance."
"I hope you will keep me company in spite of not being hungry," Edward said smilingly.
"Gladly," Amelia said, and chuckled. "Now, shall we discuss the weather or the state of the roads next?"
Edward laughed. "Neither. We could drink wine and wait until we can exchange comments on our meal. - I have a better idea, however. I am still not as well acquainted with you as I might wish how about each of us telling the other some story that we think the other should know?"
"What kind of stories?"
"Any story about yourself will do. Something you did when you were a little girl some ideas or superstitions you used to have, or still have some books you read and enjoyed anything that you wish to share. How about your first visit to London, for a start? Your sister Constantia told me you went to London to be presented under your aunt's aegis some years ago."
"I was a great disappointment to my aunt when I arrived there," Amelia reflected. "I had no beauty, and no conversation. The only thing to my credit that she could discover was my penchant for finery, which was just as well since I was not pretty enough to catch anyone's eye, so it was a good thing that my gowns did."
"She did not say so to you!"
"Oh, she did. My aunt is not the kind of person to keep her opinions to herself. A family trait, I am afraid. - Only this morning, at the wedding breakfast, I heard her say to someone that one wouldn't think I'd been able to catch myself a Marquis, to look at me. My brother is not the only one of my relatives that puts me to the blush occasionally, as you see."
Edward shook his head. "It is a good thing I did not overhear your aunt say that," he said. "It would have gone very much against the grain with me to be rude to one of my wedding guests, but I would have happily made an exception for your aunt."
"It is lovely of you to say so, but there is no need. I have never valued my aunt's opinions highly enough to be offended at any of her remarks. I should not say so; she is my aunt and I ought to respect her, but I have always found her a remarkably silly woman."
"She must be, or she would not utter such offensive remarks within your hearing. I am glad she did not upset you, though; and this also explains why you did not stay in London for long. You were not inclined to stay with your aunt for any longer than you had to, I suppose."
This was when the door opened and the landlord came in with a couple of maids carrying several trays of food, and announced that dinner was ready to be served. Edward took Amelia's hand, led her to the table and made sure she was seated comfortably before he took his place opposite her. He found the landlord and servants' presence rather bothersome they had only just started an easy conversation, and now they had to restrict themselves to commonplace topics again. The weather and the state of the roads were now discussed to more than their hearts' content; Amelia observed that they were going to have a fine day for their sea voyage the next day if she read the signs correctly, and Edward expressed his hope that it would indeed be so. The French towns they were to pass through on their way to Paris were next Edward described them to Amelia, and she listened to him with an expression of interest that he fervently hoped was genuine.
Their noisy neighbours were quietening down, which was a blessing yet the thinness of the walls between their bedrooms and those of that party of young men still troubled Edward. He felt Amelia deserved better than this setting; she deserved better than having coarse jokes made at her expense. Unwelcome though this decision was, Edward resolved that, should Amelia feel uncomfortable about the consummation of their marriage that night, he would put it off till tomorrow or maybe the day after that; for they would spend the following night at sea and there was no saying whether Amelia would feel up to sharing her bed with her husband that night. He was considerate to a fault, Edward thought with a wry smile, and wondered how many men would have worried about these matters in his place.
"Why are you smiling?" Amelia asked. The landlord and servants had, by that time, left the room and they were alone again.
"It was just a thought that came to my mind," Edward said. "Something my brother used to say. I have just come to the conclusion that he was absolutely right."
"I take it I am not going to hear what it was that he said," Amelia said.
"He simply said that there were occasions when I should let my head think whatever it liked, and act contrary to its commands."
"You are very much of a scholar," Amelia replied. "I believe it is very hard for scholars to deal with matters that have nothing to do with logic."
"What he meant, I believe, is that in some cases I should stop thinking and just act according to impulse."
"Which particular impulse were you fighting when your brother's observation came to your mind?"
"This one," Edward said, got up and walked over to her chair. He pulled her up from her seat and into his arms, and kissed her.
"Your brother was right," Amelia commented, a trifle out of breath, some time later.
Slightly nervously looking forward to the things to come, Amelia retired to bed early. She slipped into the nightdress Martha had laid out for her a wispy creation of finest linen and lace and quickly got between the covers of her bed. The bed creaked ominously as she sat down upon it, and Amelia heard some muffled laughter from the room next door. She hoped they were not laughing about her did they know that a couple of newlyweds occupied the bedrooms next to theirs? She hoped not; that kind of thing seemed to call for all kinds of vulgar jests among gentlemen, and she did not want to be the one they joked about. They were free to carouse all night, if only they left her and Edward in peace.
She sent her maid away, and picked up a book, trying to read but in fact listening to the sounds coming from her husband's room. He was talking to his valet though what he said she did not understand and obviously taking his time to get ready for bed. A thought occurred to her some idea she could not get rid of, and for which she blamed Henry Andell that maybe he was in no hurry to join her. Maybe, in spite of all those lovely things he had said to her today, he did not really find her attractive, and was trying to put off the inevitable for as long as he could.
There were his kisses, naturally, which hinted into another direction; but it was not unlikely that she was the only one they affected so strongly. What if they did not mean as much to Edward as they did to her?
Amelia listened, and whenever she heard footsteps approaching that connecting door between their rooms she shut her book, and waited with bated breath but Edward still did not come. In the end, Amelia decided not to wait any longer. If he did not want to come, fine, but she was not going to wait for him all night like some faithful puppy dog. She was about to put her book away and extinguish her candle, when the door finally opened and Edward came in.
In her surprise at finally seeing him, Amelia dropped her book on the floor beside her bed, and Edward came over and picked it up for her. He placed it on the bedside table, and sat down on the bed next to her. It creaked loudly, and he grimaced as, again, the sounds of merriment emanated from the room next door.
"Those people over there are quite noisy," he remarked. "Would you prefer to sleep in my room?"
"Would it make any difference? Are your neighbours less noisy?" Amelia asked.
"Not much," he admitted with a rueful smile. "It appears that we are not going to get much sleep tonight."
Amelia was going to say that it was a common thing not to get too much sleep during one's wedding night, but held herself back. Upon reflection the remark was a bit too risquι for her taste.
Edward came to the other side of the bed, took off his dressing gown and got into bed next to her. It was strange to be suddenly so close to him, Amelia reflected in such a way, certainly. She had been close to him before, but he'd been wearing clothes at those times. That was, he was still wearing clothes, but less than usual.
"Do you want me to put out the light, Amelia?" he asked in a whisper.
Somehow this sounded like a good idea. Unable to say so, Amelia merely nodded, and Edward extinguished his candle, while she did the same with hers, hoping that her husband would go slowly with whatever he was planning to do. She did not want him to pounce on her but she need not have feared.
While he did take her into his arms, and kiss her, it soon became apparent to her that he had no plans beyond that. He was not trying to undress her or get undressed himself, for that matter but merely held her, and kissed her. Whenever either of them moved, their bed creaked.
So much for my wedding night, Edward thought gloomily. The creaking bed had been the icing on the cake as if paper-thin walls, riotous neighbours and a nervous bride had not been enough to deal with already.
Even though he had feared before that this might happen, he had still had some hope of making love to his young wife that night. But with a bed that creaked every time either of them did as much as take a deep breath or this was how it felt and an interested party of listeners in the room next door, it was not to be thought of. Edward decided to put off the consummation of their marriage until circumstances were more in favour of lovemaking than they were at the moment.
"Amelia," he whispered, taking her hand and kissing her wrist. "I fear we will have to postpone our wedding night."
Amelia sat up. "What do you mean with postponing our wedding night? We cannot postpone it it is tonight, not tomorrow, or next week. It won't ever come back."
Edward knew that she was right. This made him even angrier with the landlord for having permitted those rogues to occupy every single room around them. How was a man to give his wife the most memorable night of her life memorable in a good way with a bunch of drunkards listening in on everything one did?
"I know," he said. "What I meant was that we should postpone what people generally do on their wedding nights. It does not seem right to me at the moment. The circumstances "
"I see," Amelia replied, sounding hurt. Edward took her into his arms, trying to comfort her.
"I want it to be enjoyable for both of us when it happens," he explained. "There are too many distractions here tonight. You do understand, don't you?"
"I do," Amelia said. She was glad that it was dark, and that he could not see her face. Nervous though she had been, she had looked forward to sharing her bed with her husband. Technically, this was what she was doing he was in bed with her after all but she had wanted him to do what her sisters had told her husbands did. Again, Cousin Henry and the things he had said came back to her mind, and refused to be banished. Edward's reasons sounded sensible; there was no denying that things would be awkward with those people in the other room, but would Edward have allowed himself to be deterred by that, had he truly wished to consummate their marriage?
While her husband drifted off to sleep, Amelia lay awake for hours, pondering this question but not reaching a conclusion. One had to be grateful for the small mercies in life though; Amelia thought grimly as she finally decided to close her eyes and try to get as much sleep as she could. At least her husband did not snore.
They were on their way to Southampton early the next morning; none of them feeling any inclination to remain at the hostelry for a moment longer than absolutely necessary.
Edward regretted not having taken Amelia to Asterby Court for a week or so before starting on their wedding trip at least there they would have been able to enjoy their wedding night in private. Even Burwell Castle would have been better than what they had gone through, in spite of the fact that the house was almost bursting with wedding guests.
He was aware that Amelia's manner towards him was somewhat subdued, and he did not blame her. She must have felt rejected last night and he feared he had not explained himself sufficiently, in a way that would have made her understand his motives. But he was not going to try and explain himself while they were still in the inn though maybe later he would. Once they were alone in their carriage, he would be able to talk things over with her. In so far as one could talk about such topics with a young woman that was. Considering how Amelia had been put to the blush the previous evening by the mere mention of him being in the same room with her during the night, he was not certain if she would talk to him about such things as their marital intercourse, or lack thereof. In all likelihood she would simply worry what she had done wrong, without summoning the courage to ask him. He did not doubt that Amelia was a courageous woman, but it probably took more courage than she had to approach such matters as this, especially since they had only been married for less than twenty-four hours. One could not expect a newlywed wife to be as blasι about marital issues as a matron of many years' standing although he could not imagine even those openly discussing such things with their husbands.
Therefore their conversation at the breakfast table was rather strained; none of them was quite ready to address what was closest to their hearts and so what occupied them most was left unsaid. Once again the weather and the probable state of the roads were their refuge; as was their impending sea voyage.
It was not until they were alone in their carriage that Edward finally introduced the matter.
"Amelia about last night," he began.
Amelia looked up from the book she had been pretending to read. "Yes?"
"I want you to know that there was nothing I wished more than being with you last night." It was difficult to find the right words, and Edward was not sure if he was succeeding. Amelia was not making things any easier for him.
"You were with me," she pointed out.
"You know what I mean," Edward said, though it occurred to him that maybe she did not. What if her mother had not told her what to expect in marriage?
"Oh, that," Amelia said, blushing.
"The thing is, I want you to know that it had nothing to do with you. That is to say I did want to spare you the embarrassment."
"You think I will be less embarrassed tonight?"
"Yes or tomorrow night. In case you get seasick."
"Do you hope I will get seasick?"
"What nonsense!" Edward cried. "You cannot think that I am just trying to find excuses for for staying away from you! Tell me honestly, would you have wanted me to take you to bed last night, with those ruffians next door listening in on everything we did? Would you have cared to unwittingly take part in their evening's entertainment?"
Amelia blushed even more furiously. "No," she admitted. "I did not think of that."
"Well, I did," Edward said bluntly. "And I did not want it to happen like this that is all there was to it. I felt that one night did not matter, even though it was our wedding night. You are not angry with me, are you?"
"Not any more," Amelia replied. "I was, last night, but I felt there was no point in asking you to do what you obviously did not wish to."
"If my inclination had had anything to say in the matter, Amelia," Edward said, "we would not be obliged to have this conversation now. You may safely believe that. What made you think that I did not want you?"
Amelia did not say anything; she felt foolish for having remembered his cousin's remarks, and for having taken them seriously.
"Have I ever given you any reason to think so?" he persisted.
Amelia shook her head. "You have not," she said.
"Is it because of the things your aunt said about you? Do not heed them, I beg you."
"It was not just my aunt," Amelia explained. "The times my mother regretted that I was past twenty and still unwed are legion."
"I must say I was quite glad you were unmarried when I met you," Edward replied. "Otherwise what would I have done?"
"Married someone else?" Amelia suggested.
"I did not want to marry anyone but you, Amelia. I do not know what gave you the idea that you are not the wife I would have chosen for myself; I feel there is something you will not tell me maybe you will, one day, when you trust me enough. In the meantime I must be content to tell you again and again that you are everything I wanted in a wife you are going to be a true companion and helpmate, not just some frippery creature with whom I have nothing in common but my name. I do not want an ornament for my dinner table any more than I want a brood mare I have told you as much before. I want a real marriage, not a fashionable one."
"And you think I can be the kind of wife that you want?" Amelia asked.
"I think you will be, once I have succeeded in making you believe what I am trying to tell you that I truly care for you."
He cared for her, Amelia thought. That was a good start of sorts, things certainly could be worse in fact she had feared they were worse, in those hours she had lain awake the night before. She liked to believe that he was in earnest it was flattering, and it gave her hope that it would not be all that hard to make him love her one day.
They boarded the Duke of Burwell's yacht in Southampton that afternoon, and the tide being in favour of their travelling plans, they left for France almost immediately. It was a fine evening; the sea was calm, and Amelia spent a very pleasant half hour on deck with her husband, looking back at England.
At the dinner table, though, she found that she was not half as hungry as she had thought she'd been, and that she much preferred to lie down on her bed and not move too much. Edward's behaviour was just such as one expected of a caring husband; he would have spent the night in her cabin attending to her, had Martha let him do so, but since she did not let him come near his wife he contented himself with coming in every half hour or so to ask how Amelia was doing. At least this was how it felt, and at one point she almost wished he would not.
After a while Amelia managed to go to sleep, and when she awoke early the next morning she felt slightly better, even though she still did not fancy her breakfast.
"I suppose this means we will have to travel across the Alps," Amelia said to Edward, who had breakfast with her though he ate but little, probably to spare her feelings her upset stomach, to be precise.
"It might be advisable," Edward admitted. "The passage from Marseilles to Leghorn would take us longer than the one from Southampton to Le Havre."
"How much longer?"
"Too long."
"Edward, I am already feeling better, and I have reason to believe that after another day or two I'd actually be perfectly well on board a ship. What I mean to say is that though I felt terribly sick last night I am by no means deterred. I want to travel to Italy by boat as planned."
Edward gave his wife an approving look. "You are either the bravest person I know," he said. "Or the most stubborn one."
"Probably both," Amelia laughed weakly.
"I tell you something. We will ask some of my friends in Paris for advice, and do whatever they think is best. If there is any way to travel across the Alps without putting you in danger, we will do that. If they feel that we had better not risk that journey, we will go across the sea and brave seasickness and everything else that may come our way."
Still, when they went ashore in Le Havre later that day, Edward took all the rooms in the inn where they were planning to stay for the night to make sure they were alone this time, and recommended Amelia to go to bed and get some rest while he went off to arrange their journey to Paris. Amelia understood now that they were the only guests at the inn, and she was no longer feeling ill, there was no reason for them to put off their wedding night any longer. So she went to bed excited and in high spirits, looking forward to their first real night together.
In the late afternoon she awoke greatly refreshed, and when informed that her husband had ordered dinner to be served in an hour and a half, she got out of bed and began to get ready.
Everything should be perfect, she decided. The food probably was anyway; they were in France after all. Martha laid out four different dresses for her until she made her choice she wanted to look her best for Edward. She also decided on a particularly flimsy night dress, one that she had once thought almost indecent, but it seemed to be just the thing for the occasion. If Martha found anything unusual in her mistress' behaviour she did not say so, but carried out Amelia's orders without comment.
So when Amelia entered their dining parlour she did so wearing her amber-coloured taffeta gown, the one that her sister Constantia had always coveted it was not the latest fashion, Amelia had reasoned, but her sister had often told her that it brought out the best in her, and surely that was more important. She had refused to use powder and paint on her face; she knew it was the French fashion but she had no taste for it. Her hair was piled up high on her head; and though her hairdo might also leave a great deal to be desired among the Fashionable World Amelia felt that it did her credit. She looked as fine as she was ever likely to look. If she could not tempt her husband into her bed tonight, she would never be able to do so.
Things looked promising at first. There was something in the way Edward looked at her when she emerged from her bedroom that told her that her efforts were highly appreciated, and that he regretted the servants' presence which precluded his taking her into his arms and showing her just how pretty he thought she was. Instead, all that he could do was kiss her hand, hand her a glass of ratafia and tell her how charming she looked.
"Did you get everything done," Amelia asked him, as she sat down on a chair by the fireside.
"Everything is arranged. We are to leave tomorrow morning, and will travel as far as Rouen. We will stay there until Monday, and then continue our way to Paris."
After two rather tiring days, Amelia was glad to find that she would have a day to recover her strength before resuming her journey.
"Are we going to see the Cathedral in Rouen?" she asked.
"If you like. It is certainly worth seeing. As is the entire town of Rouen."
"We will have a lovely day of exploring it then," Amelia remarked. "I am looking forward to doing so."
Their dinner was excellent but Amelia, bent on making a good impression on her husband and feeling a trifle nervous in spite of herself did not eat much. If Edward noticed something amiss, he did not say so. He made sure her glass was always full, drew her attention to some titbits that he had particularly enjoyed, and kept up a flow of easy conversation with her that set her quite at her ease. To say the truth she was beginning to feel slightly exhilarated. More than just slightly, in fact. Probably the wine was having that effect on her, Amelia thought. She was not intoxicated, at least she did not think that she was; she could not be she had often drunk the same quantity of wine without any ill effects, so it was unlikely that she should be drunk.
Neither was Edward aware of the danger, not until his young wife's speech became just a little slurred. Only then did he realise that Amelia was showing distinct symptoms of drunkenness. He cursed himself for not having read the signs correctly sooner, and for letting her drink more wine than was good for her. She had hardly eaten anything either. He should have done something about it.
Since he had not, Amelia was drunk, and although she was still in high spirits it was only a matter of time until she would feel unwell. Sick or not, one did not take advantage of a lady's inebriated state.
By the end of their repast, Amelia giggled hysterically at almost everything he said, which would have been highly flattering if he had meant to be funny; and although he had exchanged her wine for lemonade as soon as he'd become aware of the state she was in, the harm was done. Amelia was drunk, even though she had not had much more than two glasses of wine. It served him right for not taking better care of her coming to think of it she had not eaten much all day, and therefore it was little wonder that a relatively small quantity of wine should have such an enormous effect on her. He should have foreseen it, and since he had not he got what he deserved.
It was no easy task to persuade her to go to bed. She was not at all tired, she assured him, and merely laughed at him when he tried to assume his authority over her and order her off. He did not resent it actually he thought himself that he was being rather ridiculous. Only when he said that he was feeling pretty exhausted; after all he had not had an opportunity to sleep in the afternoon; she agreed that it was maybe for the best if they both went to bed.
Edward picked her up and carried her to her bedroom, feeling that this was the safest option, and put her down on the bed. A bed that did not creak, he could not help but notice. Amelia had sent her maid away before going in to dinner, and so now Edward had to assist her in taking off her dress. He did so without a murmur, merely wishing circumstances were different. There was nothing wrong with undressing his wife, he felt, as long as there was some kind of sequel involved. As it was, he decided that once she was in her chemise she was sufficiently undressed to go to sleep, and after recommending her to do so at once he left her room, not without promising that yes, he would be back later on. By the time that he, too, had shed his clothes and looked in on her, Amelia was already fast asleep.
With a sigh, Edward returned to his own bedchamber and, as he climbed into bed, vowed that from now on he would no longer make any plans regarding their bedroom activities. Whatever happened would happen spontaneously, without any premeditation on his part.
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