After about an hour, Sarah began to pace. What was he doing? What did he hope to accomplish? To avoid the three weeks’ delay needed to call the banns, they’d probably have to acquire a special license, which would require a lengthy trip to London, connections to the archbishop he did not have, and more money than he could spare—especially with costly repairs awaiting him in Scotland. She prayed he would not suggest eloping. Not after Claire’s disastrous attempt. She did not wish to break her mother’s heart all over again.
From the library window, she saw him return on foot. Yet whenhe entered the house, he came not to find her, but to speak to her mother. A short while later, the two of them joined her in the library.
He took her hand. “Sarah, my jo. Will ye marry me ... tomorrow?”
“What? I mean yes, I will marry you. But how can we possibly marry tomorrow?”
“With the help of your vicar, Mr. Jenkins, and two of your brothers-in-law, I have acquired a common license from the bishop of this diocese.”
“Common license?”
He nodded.
Mamma explained, “It’s sometimes called a standard license here, or a bishop’s license.”
“That’s what you were doing in Exeter?” she asked him.
“Aye. It was presumptuous, I know, but I wanted to be prepared. It was either that or convince ye to marry once we crossed the border. Considering your sister’s regrettable experience, I didna want to suggest it. I also knew you’d want to be surrounded by your family if and when we wed. With this license, we can marry in the parish church tomorrow morning or the next. I went to talk to Mr. Jenkins just now. He was not home, but I tracked him down and he has agreed.”
“Has he?” Sarah said, suddenly breathless.
“Aye. All that’s left is for ye to agree too. So I repeat my question. Will ye marry me and make me the happiest of men?”
Excitement bubbled through her. “I will.”
He smiled and his sea-green eyes shone.
“Thank God,” Mamma murmured. “Though the day after might be better. We have the Twelfth Night party tomorrow.”
His warm gaze remained on Sarah. “That suits me, if it suits my bride?”
“It does indeed.”
“Good. Then I have something for you.” From an inner pocket he retrieved a small velvet pouch. He tipped the contents onto his palm and held it out to her.
Another gift? She resolved to react more favorably this time. “What is it?”
“A Luckenbooth brooch. A traditional Scottish token of betrothal. It symbolizes love and loyalty.”
The gold brooch was in the shape of two entwined hearts with a crown above.
“It’s lovely!”
She pinned it to her bodice, and they both looked down at it with satisfaction.
Mamma, however, clapped her hands. “Now, let’s get busy. We have much to do.”
There was no time for a new gown or written invitations. Instead, they sent Georgiana to spread the word to friends and family alike. This was a task she eagerly undertook, donning warm clothes and setting out on a house-to-house mission.
“Be sure to tell Fran,” Mamma called after her. “Or is that too far to go on foot?”
“Not at all,” Georgie assured them. “It’s an easy walk for me.”
Mamma lamented the fact that there was not even time to plan and prepare sufficient food for a proper wedding breakfast.
Sarah responded easily, “No matter. Many of the people who would have attended a formal wedding breakfast will be at the party tomorrow night. The party can serve as a wedding celebration too. There is sure to be plenty of food left over for a simple meal after the ceremony.”
Mamma looked at her in surprise. “I am proud of you and your pluck, my dear. You are right to focus on the main thing: that you be married before God and family. The other details are far less important.”
