Star Crossed

Part 10

Mary stood at the apex of the highest hill for miles, he dress billowing in the wind, pulling against her legs. It was her most simple but most favourite dress, with long sleeves, a triangular neckline and pale blue flowers printed onto the white fabric. She gazed down over the Adams' farm, seeing the walled garden behind the house and the village hiding in the trees. The small stream, trickling down the countryside in a rivulet, and Mary's favourite little stone walk-bridge, near the church. From there she could see the mill, its wheel quietly turning, churning the water.

She was home.

Raising her arms, she ran freely down the face of the hill, feeling blissfully happy despite the threatening rainclouds. When she came in through the front doors, Ethel approached her.

"You won't believe what mama just told me! Once you are married, I can come into society!"

Mary smiled, remembering how excited – then how utterly disappointed – she had been when she was in the same position.

"You are very fortunate, at only fifteen," she said.

"How old were you?"

"Sixteen. Almost seventeen."

Ethel twirled and danced. Mary retreated up the narrow staircase and found her bedroom. She smiled as she saw her book resting on her pillow. In a rush, she fell onto her bed and gently opened it.

The Constellations of the Stars. In the front cover, the inscription read:

To my dearest, loveliest Mary,

Enjoy!

Love, Your dear Ephraim, 1813

For a bookmark, she used his latest letter, and by far her most favourite, in which he spoke of nothing else but her, in such tender language. It was so precious and personal she had not even shared its contents with Margaret. As her and Ephraim's letters had grown more personal and amorous, Mary had come to realize that she did not have to reveal everything to her friend, especially if her friend was the sister of her sweetheart. In fact, she shared her deepest thoughts and feelings with no one else but Ephraim, who likewise shared his with her. She had come to know him on a more meaningful level through their correspondence, and realized why he had been looking forward to writing letters.

She lay back on her bed and closed her eyes, dreaming of her future.

Mary was disturbed by harsh whispering and someone tapping her arm. She opened her eyes, thoroughly irritated that her wonderful dream had been disrupted. She turned. Margaret sitting upright in bed, her eyes filled with excitement.

"Mary, can you believe it? It's all happening today!"

The sun streamed in through the window and Mary could see a patch of blue sky. "It certainly is," she replied. "I will never forgive you, I was having the most blissful dream."

Margaret made a face. "Could it be more blissful than reality? It's your wedding day, silly!"

Mary got out of bed. "Yes, but that was a heavenly dream."

"Really? What on earth happened?"

Mary grinned. "I'm not telling you."

Suddenly their bedroom was filled with the squeals and chatter of Ethel, Ruth, Mrs Adams, and the kittens. Mrs Adams brought in the dress and Ethel and Ruth jumped on the bed, wanting to know how Mary felt – was she excited? Was she scared? Was she very happy?

Half an hour later Mary was dressed, her hair had been done, face washed, rouge on her cheeks, scent on her neck. All the women in the house had been consulted in one way or another. At last, Mary stood.

"Thank you all. Now may I have a few moments to myself?"

"But what about the wedding breakfast? We must eat soon if we are to arrive at the cathedral on time."

And so Mary did not have her solitude that morning. They all ate hurriedly, and then two carriages transported them all to the cathedral.

It was a dreadfully long trip, and Mary eventually begged to be left to her own thoughts. At last, when they arrived, everyone hurried inside, leaving Mary with Mr Adams.

"This day has been planned for seventeen years," he said. After a pause: "You look radiantly beautiful, my dear girl."

"Thank you, papa."

He looked through the carriage window, through the open doors. "Everyone is still bustling about. We will not go in for a while yet."

She looked at her hands, especially her ring finger. "So much is going to change," she said. "Perhaps that is what has been accompanying my joy and excitement all day. I am apprehensive."

"Do not be afraid. Ephraim is a good, respectable ..."

"I know! I do not fear him. I fear leaving home, leaving you and mama and the girls and Margaret. I fear new places, new people, new lifestyle. I fear new responsibility."

"You will bear it all with amazing strength."

"I don't know how."

"Neither do I. But you will."

She smiled. "I feel a bit nervous now."

"Do you?"

"Yes. My heart feels odd and my hands are shaking." She looked through the window. "There are so many people in there. And I have not seen Ephraim for weeks. Look at all those people. I shall have to walk past all of them, when the majority are complete strangers."

"I will be at your side."

"I am glad of that."

Inside, people were beginning to settle. The bells were ringing, and Mary was reminded of her mother's saying. Soon the organ began to play and the bells were temporarily silenced. She looked at her father, eyes wide.

"No," she said. "Not now."

He was getting out of the carriage. "Come on, Mary. It will be all right. I am with you."

She wanted to curl up and wait to be taken back home. Suddenly it was all too much. Hundreds of people waiting for her, when she was so afraid and so unsure. She pictured other girls her age – some not even in society yet – who were blissfully inexperienced about such fears as she was having. Mr Adams climbed back into the carriage.

"Mary, take my hand, dear."

"Papa, I fear I may cry."

"Do not cry. You are happy, are you not?"

"But I am so afraid."

"There is no reason to be afraid."

"But I am so young. I am not ready."

"It's a bit late to say that, Mary. Come on, dear. I will take you."

She reluctantly took his hand and they emerged from the carriage. People came to assist them as they waited outside the doors. Ruth came around behind her to hold up her train. Ethel and Margaret walked in front of her. Mr Adams held her arm protectively.

She concentrated on her breathing. Ethel and Margaret turned around to smile at her, but she could not manage to be so casual. She was now afraid of fainting.

At last, the organ began to play the wedding march, and Mary drew the deepest, shakiest breath she ever had.

Just before they began to walk, Mr Adams whispered something she barely heard. "I love you, Mary."

The rest was a blur. It seemed like an eternity, they walked past faces that she had never seen, and she doubted she would ever see again. She relied wholly on her father for physical support as they walked.

Then she saw Ephraim, smiling back at her, in his blindingly bright uniform. The rest she would never remember, only that she did not faint, and she did not cry, and for a short moment, she was not afraid.