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Lizzie looked down at her hands. “I – yes,” she agreed with that innate honesty he was starting to admire. “I’m not even sure how long Mrs. Napp can afford to keep me on.”

“The church is already booked for eleven o’clock,” he pointed out. “I don’t think we should let it go to waste, do you?”

5

Lizzie tugged at the skirt of her green taffeta dress, so recently reclaimed from the pawn shop, and wished there had been time to properly get the creases out. A strange odor clung to it, a sort of vague mustiness which filled her with distaste. She did not like to think where it must have lain this past four days and in what company. Suddenly, she remembered the silly rhyme Betsy had pored over for days before picking out her own wedding gown. “Married in green, ashamed to be seen,” Lizzie bit her lip. Of course, Betsy had chosen a very pretty ice blue for her own dress. “Married in blue, he’ll always be true,” her cousin had recited smugly as she had primped herself in the looking glass.

Not that Lizzie believed in such nonsensical superstitions, she reminded herself. And just as well, for the past week had been filled with nothing but ill omens. When he had returned her best dress to her, Benedict Toomes had also handed her a heavy veil of ivory lace. She had not liked to ask him where he had got it, though she suspected it was probably from the same pawn shop.

It could have belonged to some jilted bride for all she knew. It was nothing like Betsy’s pretty mantilla veil; she knew that much. Then again, she had none of her cousin’s accessories, the wrist-length white kid gloves, the silk stockings, or the necklace with a drop pearl. In truth, she was surprised that Benedict Tomes had thought to get her a veil. Their marriage was a business transaction, nothing more. He had described it to her in terms of a way to pay her way in life. In truth, many marriages operated along similar lines, so she had little to feel uneasy about on that score.

It just felt so unreal, she thought distractedly as Mrs. Napp’s apprentices helped her drape and pin the veil in place over her bonnet. They did so with many exclamations and nudges to one another. They had all been agog at the news that she was to be married that day. Mrs. Napp had called her a ‘sly puss’, pinched her chin, and declared it was little wonder that the Andersons had thrown her out of their home if she had stolen their daughter’s bridegroom!

When Lizzie had tried to protest, Mrs. Napp had laughed heartily. “Don’t waste your breath, my girl,” she’d recommended. “I don’t blame you. If I was a few years younger, I’d have a go at stealing him meself!” This had been greeted with giggles and whispers, and Lizzie glanced uneasily at Benedict. Mercifully, he did not appear to be paying attention. “Me and Lucinda will come with you to the church and act as your witnesses, and I can’t say handsomer than that,” Mrs. Napp had continued with satisfaction.

When Lizzie had tried to say that this was not necessary, Mrs. Napp had turned insistent. “Isn’t the bride being married out of me own home?” she had asked belligerently. Benedict Toomes’ eyebrows had risen, but it seemed he had taken the hint and duly sent for some celebratory refreshments which had greatly impressed the girls. They fluttered around in excitement at the sight of the jellied eels, fried pig’s trotters, and pickled whelks from the street vendors. Lizzie’s stomach had turned, though she had tried a cup of ‘rice milk’ which seemed to be extremely thin rice pudding with sugar and spices added to it.

Eliza had run down to buy more beer and returned with a very large pink rose which had become detached from its stalk. “Let me ’ave it for a ha’penny, the flower seller did,” Eliza announced proudly as she presented it to Lizzie. “On account of it’s snapped clean off, but it was still the biggest flower she ’ad.” Lucinda snatched the bloom from her sister and pinned it to Lizzie’s bonnet. “I wanted her to have it for a bouquet!” Eliza objected with spirit.

“She can’t carry a single rose head down the aisle,” her older sister told her witheringly. “Have some sense, do!”

“Now, girls,” Mrs. Napp said from where she was mixing a rum punch with fruit peelings, treacle, and nutmeg. “You stop that squabbling. Today is Miss Lizzie’s wedding day, and we’ll not have any quarreling. Susan, you fetch that poker from the fire and mind you don’t burn yourself.”

Susan wrapped her petticoat around the handle gingerly and withdrew the poker before carrying it to her mother. No sooner had Mrs. Napp taken it, then she plunged it determinedly into the jug of rum punch. The beverage bubbled and hissed, and all the girls clapped with delight.

“Now fetch the cups. Some of you younger ’uns will have to wait your turn, but we must all toast the health of the bride and groom,” Mrs. Napp announced.

Lizzie glanced at Benedict, but his face gave nothing away. He accepted the cup proffered to him and paused for the toast. Lizzie found herself doing likewise, as though there was nothing irregular about it. She knew for a fact the bridegroom was not usually permitted so much as a glimpse of a bride before the wedding, let alone to sit in the same room and watch her prepared for church. As for the toast, Lizzie was sure that was supposed to happen after the wedding, not before.

Still, they would have no wedding breakfast celebration like the one so carefully planned at Sitwell Place, with an iced plum cake, cold pheasant, and oysters. She really ought to make the most of her current fare, she thought, remembering belatedly that she had not eaten since lunchtime the previous day when she had partaken of stale bread and a rather hard cheese. She had felt too sick with worry to join the others in a bowl of stew at suppertime.

“Long life and happiness,” Mrs. Napp said solemnly once the amber colored contents of the jug had been sloshed into every cup.

“The bride and groom,” Lucinda said loudly, and everyone took a swig. The smaller children were then given the dregs, which they enthusiastically downed. Lizzie wet her lips and then handed hers surreptitiously to Eliza who was quick to swallow it before anyone else could lay a claim to it.

Benedict reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew his watch. “We’d better be setting off,” he commented. He turned to Lizzie. “You ready?”

Lizzie nodded and looked about her. There was no spray of lilies for her to hold. It seemed strange to have no reticule to carry, but he was returning her here straight afterward to finish off her week with Mrs. Napp while he wound up his business affairs, whatever they were.

He was far too handsome for her, she thought distractedly as she eyed his upright figure, which looked so well in his understated dark suit. She was surprised Betsy had not insisted he wore a dress coat and top hat for the ceremony, but then again, he had never seemed the sort that could be bossed around.

Married 'neath April's changeful skies,

A checkered path before you lies.

She felt a shiver run down her spine. She’d never longed for orange blossoms or a bridegroom, yet here she was stepping into her cousin’s place as a last-minute substitute. For a moment, her head seemed to reel at the sheer improbability of it. Then Benedict Toomes offered her his arm. She hesitated an instant, then took it. After all, it wasn’t like she had a whole array of options open to her.

Scarcely an hour later, they were married in an empty church. Lizzie had been profoundly grateful that none of the St. Joseph’s congregation had turned up, either through ignorance or to denounce her for a husband stealer. Benedict Toomes slipped a brass ring on her finger and promptly returned her to Mrs. Napp’s lodgings with an assurance he would be back to fetch her early on Easter Sunday.

“Seems a funny sort of way to spend your wedding night,” Mrs. Napp sniffed after Lizzie changed out of her green taffeta and back into her navy-blue cotton dress.

“We thought it would be best if I finished out my week with you,” Lizzie murmured, taking the seat next to her hostess and resuming her sewing. She could hear the apprentices whispering to each other as she threaded her needle. “He has some business to sort out, and besides, nothing can really be done over the Easter weekend.”

“When I was a girl, it was frowned on to marry at all during Lent,” Mrs. Napp commented. “Still, times is changing and not for the better,” she sighed. She had made another jug of rum punch from the feast Benedict had provided and signaled now for Suzy to refill the cups. “We’ll toast your health again, Miss Lizzie.”

“She ain’t Miss Lizzie now, Ma!” Lucinda reproached her. “She’s Mrs. Benedict Toomes! You saw her wedded yourself not three hours ago!”

“Well, so I did,” Mrs. Napp agreed. “But she don’t seem a married woman to me yet, and that’s the truth!”