Even Mama was acting strangely, sniffing and dabbing at her eyes as they made ready to leave for the church.
“The wedding hasn’t even started yet,” Hannah complained. “You’re not supposed to cry until we say our vows.”
“I was so worried you would never reach this day.” Mama was tearing up again. Her handkerchief had seen more use this morning than it had in its entire existence. “I know you think I was too hard on you, but all I ever wanted was to see you happy, poppet. I knew the right man was out there for you somewhere, if only you let yourself believe it.”
How could her mother want to see her married this badly whenshe knew firsthand that their vows didn’t mean anything? It didn’t make any sense. Hannah might find herself abandoned or miserable within a few years, just like her parents.
But you don’t have to worry about that, she reminded herself. Mr. Corbyn had offered terms that would keep her independent. Safe. If Hannah was never a true wife to him, she would never risk her heart. The thought made her feel a little better.
“We should go,” Hannah said. She didn’t like to see Mama making such a fuss. “Are Jane and Eli ready?”
“Wait. There are some things I should tell you, now that you’re going to be a married woman.”
“What sort of things?”
“About your wedding night, I mean.” Mama spoke rather quickly, as if rushing to get it over with.
Oh no.Hannah hadn’t been expecting this, though she supposed she probably should have.
“Once you and Mr. Corbyn are married,” her mother continued, staring pointedly at a spot on the wall somewhere past Hannah’s left shoulder, “he will want to visit your bed. Probably quite often at first, but don’t worry, it will be less frequent as time goes on. It will hurt less if you try to think of something else until it’s over. You’ll need to let him do what he likes to you if you want to have a child.”
“Mama, I know where babies come from!” Hannah blushed furiously.
“Oh. Well, good.” Her mother smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. “Do you…er, have any questions about all that?”
Hannah’s most pressing question was:How do I escape this conversation before I die of embarrassment?
But wait. If she didn’t say anything, whom else could she ask? Now that she thought of it, Mr. Corbyn hadn’t actually promised that he wouldn’t visit her bed. He’d said no children, but there were otherways to avoid children, weren’t there? She wished she’d thought to clarify all of this before her wedding day. These were very important details!
“Is there some way to make sure I don’t have a child?”
“Oh.” In her surprise, Mama accidentally made eye contact. “Well, if you rinse yourself out with vinegar afterward, that should help. Or if you find that your courses don’t come when they should, you might ask the apothecary for some pennyroyal. But you won’t need to worry about that until later, poppet. You must want one or two first?”
Oh!Wasthatwhat Annabelle had meant about herbal remedies? Her cryptic hints suddenly made sense. Good. Hannah could ask her for advice later.
“I don’t think so,” Hannah replied.
Mama looked crestfallen, but added hopefully, “You might change your mind, as you did about marriage. Give it some time.”
They went downstairs together to find the others waiting. Though Papa had grumbled about the match all week and threatened to ride back to Devon a half-dozen times, he was still here for her wedding day. No matter how he might complain, he did care about her. That brought Hannah comfort.
At least until he whispered, “It’s not too late to change your mind,” when he handed her into the carriage.
Hannah landed on the seat with a thud. Of course it was too late. Mr. Corbyn would already be at the church waiting for them by now. Mama had planned a wedding breakfast for all their friends at Jane’s town house afterward, and she’d stayed up half the night arranging the decorations. How could Hannah possibly change her mind?
She and Mr. Corbyn had an understanding. Never mind that the terms were less certain than she might have liked. Whatever herdoubts about marriage, Hannah didn’t doubt that he would keep his word. This was still the best way to secure her independence.
She murmured some platitudes to her father as the carriage rolled away, and soon they arrived at the church. They were a small party. Hannah’s parents, Jane, Eli, and Annabelle—who, as her closest unmarried friend in town, had kindly agreed to be her bridesmaid despite her low opinion of weddings in general. Corbyn’s younger brother stood as his groomsman, while his cousin sat with the guests.
The walk from the vestry to the altar seemed to take a year, as if time had slowed in accordance with Hannah’s trepidation. Though her father made no further attempt to dissuade her from her choice, his disapproval settled into his bones as he led her down the aisle, as palpable as a brick wall between them. It was a relief when he finally deposited her beside Mr. Corbyn at the altar.
Her groom had worn the blue coat that Hannah liked best, with light gray trousers and a white silk waistcoat. He looked exceptionally handsome, though this was hardly anything new. It was his eyes that were different this morning. They radiated steady reassurance that helped her to forget the awkwardness of her father’s sour mood. Something passed between them, some unspoken sentiment that eased Hannah’s fears. He looked at her as though she were just as beautiful as he was. Had there really been a time when she’d found Corbyn cold? Blue seemed the warmest color in the world.
Hannah drew a deep breath. She could do this.
The priest began his “Dearly beloved…” innocently enough, but his speech took a more solemn turn when he reached the part about matrimony being an honorable estate, not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, considering the causes for which is was ordained: the procreation of children and the mutual society and comfort of the husband and wife.
Must he include all of that?It wasn’t really any of the priest’sbusiness if Hannah lived with her husband or not, so long as she wasn’t entertaining other lovers! But the solemnity of the occasion made her feel less certain of her intentions. It was one thing to lie to her mother in the office of a gambling club or Jane’s dining room. It was quite another to lie in a solemn vow before the church altar with everyone she cared about looking on.
