"Now you don't have to borrow a tea set from your employer any more when guests call," Beth said.
"I won't have an employer from Monday," Mary replied, her gaze still firmly fixed on the delicate cup. "Mrs Chesters believes most firmly that a married woman's job is to stay at home and look after her husband."
"Quite right too. I expect my meals on the table on the dot when I come home, or there'll be trouble," said Joseph with mock severity. Beth had met him for the first time earlier that day, and had liked him immediately, sensing that his affection for her friend was genuine. Mary pulled a face at her beloved.
"I told her that he was quite used to looking after himself, and that I could continue to work for her until I had my first child, but she wouldn't change her mind. It's ridiculous."
"Will you be able to manage?" Beth asked.
"Yes," she said. "Thanks to your generosity, my lord." She smiled shyly at the baronet, quite overcome by the idea of having a titled personage at her wedding. Although she had invited him, she had not really thought he would condescend to actually attend her modest affair.
"Please, my dear, I am not a lord, and have no wish to be," he replied. "And if you stand on ceremony with me all weekend, you will most certainly spoil your happy occasion, and mine. I intend to let my hair down a little at this merry affair, being far from the Capital and gossip, and would far prefer it if you stop reminding me of my title. Anthony is my name, and you will be doing me the utmost service if you address me by it."
She tried. She really tried, but did not succeed fully until the following evening, when much the worse for several glasses of wine. The wedding service had been conducted clandestinely by Father Kendal, witnessed only by Mary and Joseph's Catholic friends. Alex had declined to attend, pointing out that he would not be able to make the correct responses without arousing suspicion, and that Mary would be worried that he felt out of place.
"They're a lovely couple," he said. "I want them to enjoy the ceremony, without worrying about their pseudo-aristocratic guest."
Instead he sat with his brothers and Iain, later joined by Graeme and Thomas, chatting and lending a hand to move tables, chairs and other furniture when required, while the non-Catholic women ran around preparing the substantial wedding feast, which was laid out in one of the two rarely used reception rooms.
The subsequent dancing was held in the other room, and was a very jolly, if somewhat cramped affair, with Sir Anthony and Beth demonstrating the menuet they had danced at Versailles, and Angus and Duncan later leading Beth and the blushing bride in a Scottish reel, while Iain scraped merrily away on the fiddle he had wrested from its owner, who was providing the music for the evening, but knew no Scottish numbers.
Wine flowed freely and Beth took Angus to one side, warning him that Grace, who was quietly falling under his spell, was a good girl and if he did any more than dance with her, she'd make sure he never did anything again, with anyone. He did not abandon her for alternative prey after this warning as he could have done, there being several unattached ladies present who would have laid all their favours willingly at his feet. Instead he continued to lavish attention on Grace, to her delight, behaving like a perfect gentleman and leaving her at the end of the evening feeling like the most beautiful woman in the world, but most definitely unsullied.
"Oh, I cannot remember when I have been so happy!" Mary said to Sir Anthony and Beth, as the evening drew to a close. She seemed unconcerned by the fact that there was little chance of her union being consummated this night, as the groom, brown hair tousled and handsome face flushed from dancing and wine, had unwisely embarked upon a drinking wager with Angus and Iain. Judging by the state of him at the present moment, and Angus's reputation, Joseph would be spending his wedding night under the table. Still, the couple had many more nights to spend together, but the wager with Angus and Iain could not be repeated. They were leaving in the morning.
"It has been a wonderful occasion, my dear Mary," agreed Sir Anthony. "And no doubt bodes well for your marriage. Joseph is an excellent fellow."
"And thanks to you and Beth, Anthony, we have not had to wait any longer. I thought we would never be able to save enough to marry."
"And I thought you would persist in treating me like the king all night. But at last you have addressed me as Anthony, without a Si..or my Lo … before it. Thank you, my dear."
"Ah, now," she said, swaying a little. "As for treating you like a king, that would depend on which king you are speaking of."
"Is there more than one?" asked Beth, who was equally tipsy. "A German idiot may be wearing the crown, but that does not make him the king."
Mary raised her glass, slopping wine carelessly on the floor in the process.
"A toast to King James!" she cried. Across the room, Graeme also raised his glass, along with several others. His eyes flickered to Angus, whose hand had moved automatically upward, before he remembered where he was and disguised his gesture by pretending to admire the ruby glow of the wine in the candlelight. Graeme noted this, then looked closely at Sir Anthony. And then back at Angus.
Sir Anthony gently took Mary's hand and straightened the glass.
"I think I will leave you to your toasts," he said smilingly, and, making his way across the room, caught Iain neatly as he fell sideways off his chair, lowering him carefully to the ground. The remaining two competitors eyed each other across the table. Sir Anthony looked from Joseph's drooping grey eyes to Angus's lucid, wide-awake blue ones.
"Be gentle with him, Jim," he advised, before leaving the room and making his way to bed.
By the time Beth decided to join her husband, Joseph was indeed settled under the table for the night, and several other men had joined him, a hard floor seeming a better option than the walk home in the rain. Graeme intercepted her in the hall, taking the candle off her before she could set fire to herself.
"Here," he said gruffly. "I'll see you to your room."
She took his arm gratefully, aware that she had drunk more than was perhaps wise, certainly a lot more than she normally drank in mixed company. She stumbled on the landing, and he transferred his arm quickly to her waist, narrowly stopping her from falling on her knees.
"Thank you," she said, giggling a little and regaining her balance with difficulty. "Goodnight, Graeme."
"Beth, how drunk are you?" he said suddenly, seriously.
She tried to focus on him, vaguely aware that there seemed to be something wrong, and forced herself to concentrate, pushing away the alcoholic haze a little.
"Pretty drunk," she admitted. "But not incapably so. Not quite, anyway. What's wrong?"
"You're leaving in the morning. I doubt I'll get a chance to talk to you alone again. Are you all right, lass? Are you sure of this man you're married to?"
"I have never been more sure of anyone in my life," she said, enunciating each word with exaggerated care. The pattern on the rug shifted a little to the side, then back again. She blinked several times, but when she looked back at it, it was still moving. "Why do you ask?" she said, forcing her mind back to the subject in hand.
"He's not what he seems, Beth. I don't know what he is, and he seems nice enough on the surface, but … I'm worried about you, all the more because you're so taken with him."
She laughed suddenly, joyously, then hiccupped, putting a hand to her mouth.
"You're right, I am." She grinned. "And he's taken with me, too. Don't worry about me, Graeme. I've never been happier. Alex is the most wonderful man I've ever met. He'll look after me, really he will."
Graeme watched her as she weaved her way into the bedroom, and then watched some more. Then he made his way slowly to his room, where he sat sleeplessly until the morning, worrying.
"Are you angry with me?" Beth said to her husband as they clattered along the road the following morning. She couldn't remember how she had got to bed last night, and her head was aching horribly, but at least she was not alone in that. Duncan and Maggie both seemed somewhat delicate, and Iain was positively green. Only Angus, damn his soul, was unaffected, smiling cheerily and leaping up onto his horse without giving the slightest indication that he had drunk more than any of the others the previous night.
"No, a ghràidh," said Alex after a delay. He had been thinking about Graeme. On the surface his farewell to Sir Anthony had been friendly, normal, but there had been an obvious reluctance to part with Beth, and he had felt the gardener's eyes burning into his back as he had climbed into the carriage. He dismissed Graeme from his mind, with an effort. "Why would ye think I was angry with ye?" he said. He couldn't wait to get to Carlisle and be rid of this disguise. At least he could drop the accent, though, with Iain driving the coach.