Rank and Respectability

- Chapter 22 -

Three days passed, at which time news was thoroughly spread through Compton that Brandon Routley was in England, with extensive wounds and unable yet to be sent home. Two weeks more passed before he arrived at Norcastle, in time to see his mother before she passed five days later. He kept entirely to himself. Only Thomas Harding, as his closest friend, saw him after he'd returned; and even then, only on the few occasions Harding visited Norcastle. After one such visit in mid-December, Mr Harding spoke of his friend with his fiancée in the privacy of Rosforte's lush conservatory.

"I have invited him to our wedding."

"Do you think he may come?"

"I cannot say, I don't believe he wishes to be seen."

"Is it so very bad?"

Harding took her hand, stroking her fingers with a thumb. "At first, perhaps." he glanced at her "Quite more difficult, I should think, for the man himself to get used to."

"Poor Mr Routley."

"It could have been much worse, he is not crippled, and his face is not badly damaged. He considers himself lucky."

Cecilia considered this, "True. It is admirable of him to be optimistic in his situation I suppose..."

He kissed her hand and changed the subject. "We'll be married in less than a fortnight."

She smiled "I only wish it were sooner." and pecked him on the lips.

~~~

Their kiss on their wedding day was watched by a joyfully tearful group of family and close friends. The Wheaton family (naturally), Miss Compton, the Ritewoods, Grays, Hills, and Mr Harding Sr – someone most of the party had yet to meet. Brandon Routley had come after all. He watched from the back, alone, uncomfortably ignoring the stares and glances that were thrown his way throughout the ceremony. His burns had left pasty, puckered, scarred skin from waist to ear on the left side of his body; and though most of it was covered by sleeves, gloves, and his high collar, it could still be seen marring his jaw from chin to cheek to meet his hairline. While most present were visibly interested in this first appearance of Mr Brandon Routley since his return home, his own gaze found interest only in the couple being sealed in matrimony – and with the back of a certain young widow's head.

Katherine was oblivious to the attentions of the disfigured naval officer in the back-left corner of the room. Sitting in the very front pew with Miss Gray, Miss Ritewood, and Betsey, she clutched her sister's hand and brushed a tear from her eye as the newlyweds turned to the small congregation and her youngest sister looked to their mother and father with a brilliant smile. The reception was held in the conservatory at Rosforte Castle. Brandon had little desire to be present and would have found it agreeable to avoid conversation at all costs and take his leave, but as that would undoubtedly be considered shockingly rude he sought out someone to talk to. He noticed the elder Mr Harding was currently unoccupied and a little way away from the rest of the party, he headed that direction.

Mr Harding Sr was one of customarily unshakable beliefs; beliefs that included maintaining a healthy distinction between servant and master; beliefs that were at present being quite uncomfortably shaken. A farmer's daughter had become the niece of a baroness, which brought her station from below his own to far above it. This farmer's-daughter-now-debutant had now married his son, making his son a relative of a baroness; while Mr Harding Sr himself was still employed as a steward to Mr Routley who significantly less wealthy than Mr Harding Jr now was. All this hopping from rank to rank was enough to rattle his brains; he hadn't the foggiest idea where he now stood, or what was polite and proper thing to do or say to anyone; and when his employer approached him with a "Evening Harding, what a day, don't you say?" and an outstretched hand. He nearly broke into a sweat. "One of the best I dare say sir, It's not every day a man has the privilege of seeing his only son married."