“Yes.”
I don’t know if I believe her. If she would really send me away.
But I am not strong enough to take the risk.
She doesn’t love me.
She knows she will tire of me.
And yet there is only one answer.
With Annabelle, there is only ever one answer.
I sink to my knees and pull her towards me.
“Yes,” I say. “Then yes, I will marry you.”
Finally, she sinks down into my arms.
I thread my fingers through her hair. In the afternoon light, it coils on my fingers like strands of spun gold.
“Have it all your own way,” I say, my lips at her temple. “I will sign anything. Of course, Annabelle, I will marry you.”
She buries her head into my shoulder.
And I choose to believe that, on some level, she is happy.
Chapter 35
Alfred
Annabelle spent all afternoon in her study with Mr. Perry.
She sent me ahead to wait at the church for her.
And so now that is what I do. I wait.
It is strange to be at the church now.
It doesn’t feel the same as it did before.
Nevertheless I revel in its simple beauty and let it calm me. I beckon God to me and after a while I feel the faint rays of his presence.
After a time that feeling abates, and I wonder what Annabelle will wear to our wedding.
It is hard for me to imagine that she would put on finery for such an occasion. But will she really only wear one of her regular, severe frocks? I am sure that her clothing will reveal her state of mind. If she wears no finery at all, if she does not alter her dress in the slightest, she truly sees marrying me as nothing more than the acquisition of a particular piece of property.
I hear the church door open and I turn.
She stands in the dim light of the church, lit only by my candle. Mr. Peabody enters with her.
My heart sinks.
She is in one of her usual dresses of black silk.
A dress that announces she is merely attending to business.
It is not a good omen.
