Page 51 of Lady Emily’s Matchmaking Mishap (Merry Spinsters, Charming Rogues #5)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Emily’s legs buckled beneath her. If Wolferton hadn’t reacted quickly and caught her, she would have ended up on the cold marble floor.

“Uncle Edmund’s daughter?” Lord John’s legs buckled as well, and he sat down on the marble steps in front of the altar.

“Lord Adam Edmund Hepplewhite, Earl of Witley. Better known as Mr Edmund White, headmaster of Ashbourne Village.” Her voice sounded bitter. Then she saw Cissy staring at her, mouth agape. “You must be Cecilia.” She walked over to Cissy and lifted her chin in the same way she had lifted Emily’s. “You have your mother’s beauty. I only saw her once, from a distance, and she was unaware that I was watching her.”

“You really are our grandmother?” Cissy breathed.

“I am. And if I had had my way, you would have grown up at Strathmore Hall, but your father, who no doubt inherited the legendary stubbornness of the Hepplewhites, would not have it. You see, when he eloped and married your mother, the daughter of a schoolmaster, so far below his station, he had a bitter quarrel with your grandfather. And with myself too, I must admit. For I was as opposed to the union as my husband. But Edmund was in love.” She sighed. “And so he broke with us and all that was connected with his old life and began a new one with his Francesca. We knew of your existence, of course, but Edmund insisted on living a separate life, as if to prove that he could do it, to live from hand to mouth.” She sniffed contemptuously. “As if it were possible for one to ever forget one’s heritage. He died foolishly, needlessly and in poverty, believing he’d done the right thing.” Her shoulders slumped. “We lost sight of you for a time. You disappeared. Turned up again under different names several years later. Disappeared again. How excessively tiresome, I must say! Then this dandy—” she nodded at Chippendale, who was tugging at his cravat “—turned up out of the blue, claiming to know the whereabouts of Edmund’s children.” She glared at them.

“But Grandmama—” Lord John had regained his voice. “What if they’re pulling the wool over your eyes like they did with the other ladies? Old ladies are their speciality. First there was Lady MacGregor, then poor Aunt Henrietta. There are others. You are falling prey to their deception.”

“Pah.” The Dowager Duchess shook her head. “I told you you were a fool. The girls were homeless on the streets after that idiot of a duke accidentally evicted them.” She glared at Wolferton, who flushed. “Who do you think sent Henrietta to them?”

Emily and Cissy gasped at the same time. “Are you saying it wasn’t a coincidence that Aunt Henrietta approached us in Bath?”

“Of course not.” She sniffed. “It took us a while to discover that you’d found refuge with Lady MacGregor.” She nodded at the butler. “After she died, you travelled to Bath. This is where Henrietta finally found you. The idea was for you to stay with her, not run off again. If you hadn’t chased them away—” she turned to Lord John, whose mouth had gone slack “—they would have been with me at Strathmore Hall by now instead of being involved in this fiasco here.” She slammed her cane down for emphasis.

“How did Chippendale know about all this?” enquired Aunt Araminta.

Chippendale adjusted his cravat. “Wolferton sent me to Strathmore Hall with the mission to fetch Her Grace post haste.”

“And how did Wolferton know that Her Grace was their grandmother?”

“I have an exceptionally talented secretary who used to work at Bow Street before I took him on,” Wolferton explained. “He uncovered the true identities of Lady Emily and Lady Cecily. I sent Chippendale to fetch Her Grace, although he took his dear sweet time.”

Chippendale made an apologetic face. “I’m sorry, but my carriage lost a wheel on the way and it took me longer than I expected to reach Strathmore Hall.”

“I was never so relieved as when that boy contacted me. Well?” She looked at Wolferton.

“Well what, Your Grace?” Wolferton inquired.

“Are you going to marry her or not? I have come for a wedding.” The Dowager Duchess rammed her cane into the ground for emphasis.

“Certainly. A wedding you shall have,” Wolferton replied promptly. “If the priest agrees that all ambiguities have been cleared up, and all identities confirmed?” He raised an eyebrow at the priest, who had removed his wig to wipe his bald forehead. He put the wig back on and cleared his throat.

“As far as I am concerned, everything is clear, and there were no issues to begin with.” He pulled out a piece of paper and studied it. “Since the special license was issued for the Duke of Wolferton and Lady Emily Hepplewhite from the start.” He pointed at the name. “I was wondering earlier why everyone insisted on addressing the bride as Poppy Featherstone.”

Emily gasped and turned to the Duke. “You already knew when you obtained the license?”

Wolferton shrugged. “I don’t leave these things to chance. Besides, as already stated, I have an efficient secretary.”

“If, furthermore,” the priest continued, “Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess, vouches for the lady’s identity, then I see no reason for any obstacle to this marriage, as her word is sufficient to resolve any doubt in the matter.”

“She is my granddaughter, Lady Emily Hepplewhite, as stated on the license,” the Dowager said. “Proceed without further delay.”

“Excellent.” Wolferton clasped Emily’s hand tightly. “Shall we?”

Emily hesitated.

His eyes bored into hers. “It is your decision alone,” he murmured in her ear. “Say the word and I will have you out of here.” She looked at him silently, her eyes widened slightly. “But if you remain silent... ” he drew in a long breath. “If you remain silent, I will take it that you consent and we will be married, you and I. For real.”

Emily opened and closed her mouth like a fish, unable to speak at all.

All she knew was that there was him, there was her, and the rest of the world fell away, her heart beating wildly as she drowned in his eyes.

She must have done something. Maybe she’d nodded. Maybe she’d even said yes. She could barely remember what she had done.

All she knew was that the look of tension and strain left his eyes and he looked immeasurably relieved and he pulled her forward to the priest and then, and then... and then...

... They were married.

Everything unfolded like a dream.

The priest’s voice was a distant murmur, barely audible in her ears. The clapping sounded far away, muffled and unreal, as if it belonged to someone else’s celebration. She felt arms around her, hands guiding her forward, but the sensations were faint, like echoes in a mist. There was a ring on her finger now. And through it all, Wolferton never let go of her hand—not for a moment.

He led her forward to the table in the vestry, where the register awaited.

Dazed, she took the quill and signed her name.

Dazed, she passed it to Chippendale, who signed as the first witness. Then to the Dowager Duchess, who signed as the second witness.

It was only when the quill returned to its place and her eyes fell on the open register that the haze lifted. Her eyes focused on the writing under the heading ‘Groom’:

His Grace Jasper Fennimore George Sinclair, Duke of Wolferton.

The world tilted. Blood roared in her ears as her eyes fell to his signature below.

Wolferton.

He had signed his name in a hand she knew only too well. The W, with its three loops, was unmistakable. The same flourish she had seen at the beginning of every letter she had ever received from Fenn.

My dear Little Wren , he’d started every single one of his letters, the W decorated with the same intricate loops.

Little stars danced at the edges of her vision.

Slowly, she looked up into his questioning eyes.

“What is it?”

“I knew it.” She clenched her hands into fists. “I knew it!” She turned to him with an accusing look. “I knew it all along, except I simply didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t believe it.”

“Believe what, my love?” His voice was strangely soft. His hand was on the small of her back, trying to guide her, but she shook it away.

Something inside Emily snapped. With the mewling sound of an angry kitten, she threw herself at him, hammering her fists into his chest.

“You never came!” she howled. “I waited and waited and waited and you never—you neh-ever came.” She kept hammering, but her blows turned into feeble flaps, and then she burst into tears.

He caught her up to him and cradled her close.

“You never came,” Emily sobbed. Somehow, it was the only sentence she could get out. Somehow, it was important that he understood that.

“I know. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.” He repeated it over and over, murmuring it into her hair, into her ear.

“You forgot me.”

“I never did. Not for a minute. Not for a second. I swear it on my life.” His embrace tightened around her. “I could never forget my little Wren.”

The words brought a fresh flood of tears.

“Good heavens, what can be the matter now?” Poor Aunt Araminta cried. “I’m not sure my nerves can take much more of this.”

“Not a minute married and they are already quarrelling,” said Chippendale with a grin. “No, leave them alone.” He held back Cissy, who’d jumped up in alarm to rescue her sister. “How about we take a turn outside? The weather is rather good. Even if it is raining. And cold. And windy.” He showed his arm to Cissy, who took one last doubtful look at her sister, then decided she was well looked after and left with Chippendale.

“The knot is tied, and that is good,” the Dowager Duchess said with a sniff. “It’s just bridal nerves.”

“We were supposed to elope.” Emily’s nose was pressed into his cravat and she was almost unintelligible. “We were supposed to elope to Gretna Green.”

“Yes, we were, weren’t we?” Wolferton replied patiently. “But life intervened. And now we are married. Finally. Ten years overdue but, by God, it’s finally done. I never thought I’d see the day.”

The priest cleared his throat. “If you would like us to leave to have more privacy... ”

“We will leave. Emily. Let’s continue this discussion at home. We have guests. Your grandmother has come all the way from Strathmore Hall. We’re all hungry and upset. It’s been a difficult morning. Let’s go home and afterwards you can berate me and throw a vase at me for having been devious and deceitful.”

“An excellent idea,” said the Dowager Duchess with a sniff.

Against all odds, the wedding breakfast proved to be a lively affair.

Chippendale joked with Cissy, who giggled incessantly.

The Dowager Duchess glared at everyone, but then found a kindred spirit in Araminta when it was revealed that both ladies were passionate collectors of Meissen porcelain figurines— colourful, dainty little figurines of shepherdesses in eighteenth-century dresses with wigs. Both ladies sat apart in a corner, describing their treasures to each other in minute detail.

Lord John Hepplewhite had risen stiffly, approached Emily, bowed formally and apologised to her.

“Grandmamma was right when she said I was a prize fool,” he said contritely.

Emily, tired and overwhelmed, waved him away. “For heaven’s sake, John. Let’s not talk about this anymore. Instead, tell me about the rest of our family. How many aunts and uncles and cousins have we got? I am looking forward to having a real family, and I confess I’m glad to have you as a cousin. I’d rather we were friends, you and I.” She held out her hand, which he eagerly took.

Then he, too, loosened up a bit and told her all about their extensive family.

Even old Jim was invited to the party, although he insisted on helping the butler serve them. “Once a butler, always a butler,” he announced. “I will not overstep and will celebrate with the other servants below stairs.”

Emily had not had the opportunity to exchange a single word with Fenn, or Wolferton, or Jasper? She had no idea what to call him. Both of their attentions were demanded by the guests. She couldn’t remember what they had said or what she had eaten. All she knew was that there was an atmosphere of general gaiety and relief, with everyone talking at once, and even the Dowager Duchess deigning to smile once or twice at a joke made by Chippendale.

Emily could hardly believe that she had a grandmother now.

Or a cousin.

Or that Aunt Henrietta was really her aunt. “I’m so sorry for everything,” Emily whispered, but Aunt Henrietta brushed it away.

“I will expect you to visit me after you return from your wedding tour,” she said, tugging at Emily’s shawl and adjusting a ribbon in her hair. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you both. There is much to discuss. But we’ll do that when you’re settled into your married life. I look forward to your visits, and to visiting you. And to a house full of children.” She nodded to Wolferton, who grinned.

Emily blushed.

Cissy took her in her arms and hugged her tightly. “I’m so glad it turned out the way it did. Isn’t it a miracle? We have a family and cousins and friends to wish us well. Emily! We have a home now. I can go live with Aunt Henrietta again, for she told me she’d dearly love to have me, or with grandmamma, even though she frightens me a little, or, if you don’t mind, with you… ”

“And there’s Meadowview Cottage,” Emily chimed in.

“Which is being restored,” Wolferton interjected. “It won’t be ready for you to live in until it’s finished.”

From then on, everything happened with whirlwind speed. She changed into her travelling clothes and they set off on their wedding tour to the well wishes of family and guests. Truth be told, Emily hadn’t paid too much attention to these plans, thinking they would never come to pass. All she could remember was that they were to return to Ashbourne House and from there, they would visit all the Duke’s estates.

“I can’t believe we’re actually married,” she burst out as they sat in the carriage, the doors slamming shut and the carriage moving. “I can’t believe you’re Fenn. I can’t believe any of this. Is it a dream? No, you must have planned everything from the beginning.”

He sat back and studied at her solemnly. “You look more than exhausted. Why don’t you try to get some sleep, and I promise we’ll discuss everything when we get to Ashbourne House.”

Her hand groped for his. Emily thought it would be impossible for her to sleep, but before she knew it, her eyes closed and when she awoke, she found her head cushioned against his shoulder. She sat up, disoriented, and arranged her hair.

“We have arrived,” he said as the carriage pulled into the splendid drive of Ashbourne House, where the servants were lined up at the entrance to greet them.