A Promise Given Read online

  Mrs. Howard somehow did not notice Ma, still sitting silent in the corner, dreadfully pale and perspiring, but saw only Henrietta and paused in admiration of her creation. She let out a small, satisfied sigh and walked swiftly to where Henrietta still stood before the mirror and kissed the air alongside both of her cheeks and took her hands in hers.

  “My dear, you look absolutely gorgeous.”

  “Thank you, Antonia,” Henrietta said, feeling awkward with Ma sitting so near. She was about to finally introduce the two of them, the two mothers in her life now, but Mrs. Howard rushed on before she had a chance.

  “I just want you to know, my dear, that despite our initial differences, shall we say, I really am quite fond of you. You’ve made Clive happier than I’ve ever seen him, and I’m grateful. I’ve tried to warn both of you of the immense responsibility you’re taking on, but I can see now that you will succeed brilliantly. I’ve come to almost see you as another daughter, and I hope you can rely on me, trust me, as you would a mother, especially since …”

  Ma cleared her throat here, and Mrs. Howard, startled, peered into the shadows where Ma was heaving herself out of the rather deep-seated chair.

  “I’m sorry,” Mrs. Howard said stiffly, though her tone was anything but one of repentance. “I assumed we were alone. You should have made yourself known. Who is it?”

  Ma snorted. “You don’t need to concern yourself with me, Antonia Howard,” Martha said, her voice slightly cracking. “I can see you two are managing quite well as it is.”

  “Ma!” Henrietta exclaimed, deeply embarrassed. “Let me introduce you. Antonia, this is my mother, Martha Von Harmon. Ma … Mother … this is Antonia Howard.”

  The two women stared at each other, Mrs. Howard coolly assessing every small detail of Ma’s attire and person, the quickness with which it was completed and the lack of accompanying facial response indicating that she was not impressed. She was the first to speak, however.

  “Please call me Antonia,” she said, smiling sweetly. “How very charmed I am to meet you … may I call you Martha?”

  Ma did not answer.

  “We were very sorry to hear that you’ve been so ill of late, but delighted that you are strong enough to attend today. You must be very proud of Henrietta.”

  Ma gave her a disparaging look. “I haven’t been ill,” she said, looking accusingly at Henrietta. “I just didn’t want to come.”

  “Oh, Ma!” Henrietta said faintly.

  Mrs. Howard looked Ma up and down yet again and managed another false smile. “Well, I misunderstood, then. Forgive me. I won’t take up any more of your time. I’m sure you have much to say to each other. Henrietta,” Mrs. Howard said, taking her hand again and squeezing it. “My very best wishes and my blessing,” she said sincerely. “You look lovely; Clive’s a very lucky man. I’ll see you at home,” she said, barely glancing at Ma as she said it, but the barb had hit. “Good day, Mrs. Von Harmon,” she said, not looking at Ma, and then disappeared behind the thick red curtain that blocked them from view of the congregation.

  “Why did you do that, Ma?” Henrietta hissed as soon as Antonia was out of earshot. “Can’t you just get along? Isn’t that what you always told me? All those years that I waitressed and got fired for slapping some cook trying to feel his way up my legs?”

  “Always one for melodrama, aren’t you?” Ma retorted. “Well, I’m glad your new mother is less of a disappointment.”

  “How can you say that to me?” Henrietta said, near tears now. “It hasn’t been easy for me …”

  Luckily, they were interrupted when both Edna and Elsie arrived back with all of the flowers, and Julia came in then, too.

  “They’re almost ready,” Julia whispered, nodding her head toward the front of the church. The organist had started playing lightly in the background, and Henrietta felt her stomach clench. “Mr. Exley’s in the back waiting for Mrs. Von Harmon,” Julia said kindly, apparently not noticing the tension between the two of them.

  “I’ll go; I’m not really needed here, anyway,” Ma said, the irritation in her voice unmistakable. For a moment she looked as though she was going to stumble, but Elsie caught her and helped her through the tiny door at the back which led into the narthex where the procession would begin, asking her if she was sure she would be okay, did she need water, anything?

  “Ma!” Henrietta called after her, but Martha did not turn around. Only Elsie looked back at her, her face one of apologetic pity as she made her way out with Ma. Henrietta felt she might cry, her throat thick and aching with tears, but she steeled herself and tried desperately to push it down, turning to Julia instead.

  If Julia thought the parting between mother and daughter odd, she didn’t say so. Henrietta was too distraught to be embarrassed now and suddenly had a new surge of panic.

  “Oh, no! What about Mr. Hennessey?” she cried. “Is he here?”

  “Don’t worry,” Julia said soothingly. “He’s in the Narthex, waiting patiently, though he does seem a bundle of nerves. He keeps loosening and retightening his tie, poor man. He appears positively unhinged. Whatever have you done to him, Henrietta?” she smiled reassuringly.

  Henrietta responded with her own unexpected smile at the image of poor Mr. Hennessey fraught with anxiety, but she grew instantly sober again, almost frantic. “Oh, Julia! What am I going to do? This isn’t what I thought my wedding day was going to be like!” she said on the verge of tears again. “Everyone seems cross, and I don’t feel particularly happy, just horribly nervous. It’s not anything like what I imagined it would be!”

  Surprisingly, Julia laughed. “It will get better. Once you begin, there’s no more thinking about it, just doing it. I was the same.”

  Henrietta reflected that of course one would feel distress to be marrying the likes of Randolph, but she didn’t say so. She, on the other hand, was marrying the man she loved, so she shouldn’t feel this anxious, should she?

  An usher knocked on the door and poked in his head. “It’s time,” he said simply. “Are you ready?”

  Henrietta nodded. “Just one moment,” Julia said. Elsie came in, then, and handed Henrietta her long spray of roses and orchids just as she could hear the organ loudly begin Handel’s “Air.”

  “She’s fine. Don’t fret about it,” Elsie said soothingly, referring, of course, to Ma. “This is your big day. Be happy,” she said, smiling at her. “Oh, Henrietta! I love you!” Elsie said, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. “Good luck.”

  “I love you, too, Elsie,” Henrietta responded, leaning forward and kissing her on the cheek, and she suddenly felt overwhelmingly sad at the prospect of leaving her forever.

  “May I be so bold as to say I love you as well?” Julia said to Henrietta with a smile. “Would you mind another sister, Elsie?” she said as she held out her hands to both of them. Quickly the sisters reached for Julia’s outstretched hands, forming a momentary triangle between them.

  Elsie smiled shyly.

  “Thank you, both. For everything,” Henrietta said, squeezing their hands tightly.

  Julia gave her a wink just as the usher reappeared, gesturing with more urgency this time.

  As previously instructed, Julia walked out first to begin her long walk down the aisle of the packed church, Elsie following at a slightly faster pace, though she appeared to remember to slow down every few yards, concentrating on her steps.

  Henrietta emerged into the Narthex, then, and saw Mr. Hennessey waiting, wringing his hands. A huge smile lit up his face when he saw her, arrayed as she was, her beauty absolute. As predicted, Henrietta detected two tears in the corners of his eyes. He held his arm out to her, “Ready, girl?”

  At those simple words, Henrietta now felt in real danger of crying herself. “Oh, Mr. Hennessey. Thank you,” she said hoarsely. “You’ve been so good to me.”

  “The pleasure has always been mine, girl. I knew you were something special, and now look at this. I’m so proud of you, as if you was
my own daughter, and I mean it.”

  “I know you do,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.

  Edna had finished fluffing her train and appeared by her side now. “Ready?” she squeaked. Henrietta nodded and bent so that Edna could carefully pull the little front wisp of a veil over her face. The music changed then to Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March,” and Mr. Hennessey tightly gripped her hand, entwined through his arm. She turned her attention to the front of the church now and almost felt faint at the sight of the crowd. She peered toward the altar, but all she could make out was Randolph and Major Barnes-Smith. Somehow she forced her legs forward, though her heart was beating so hard that it was difficult to breathe.

  And then she saw him.

  The two couples of the wedding party had cleared now, and Clive, so dreadfully handsome in his black tails and white tie, slowly turned to look at her. The look of pure love on his face as he gazed at her melted her heart so completely she almost fainted, and she leaned, for just a moment, on Mr. Hennessey, who held her tight. As she drew closer, she could see that Clive’s face was controlled, but she saw him swallow deeply and could tell by the way he clenched his right cheek that he was fighting his emotion. She smiled at him, then, her anxiety giving way to concern for him, and to her delight, he smiled back.

  Clive looked at the vision floating toward him and felt as unnerved as he had before any battle, but in a strangely different way, of course. Henrietta invoked such a fierce tenderness in him that it almost took his breath away. He was almost ashamed of how much he loved her. He never took his eyes from hers as she slowly walked up the aisle to him. Often when he had lain in the field hospital, listening to the shelling in the ever-encroaching front, he had drifted in and out of consciousness, and sometimes a vision had come to him, a vision of a woman that brought him warmth and peace, and he oddly felt that same way now as Henrietta walked toward him. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him or his choice for one so young; he didn’t see her that way. Yes, she was young, and beautiful as well, but he knew that that was not at the heart of his love for her, that there was infinitely more to it. As he stood waiting for her to come to him, he offered up a silent prayer to God that he would be the man she deserved and that God would not take her from him. Surely God would not be that cruel, to take his wife again, would He?

  He had thought of Catherine this morning as he was dressing and hoped she understood. But of course she would; she had ever been that way. He had already had a wedding day all those years ago, so he had been thrown off by his disquietude today as he attempted to button his cufflinks on his own, fumbling them so badly that in the end he was obliged to seek the help of his father’s valet. Unlike today’s extravagant event, when he had stood at the altar with Catherine it had been in front of family only, and on that day his feelings, to be honest, had been mostly of duty, his new role in the war looming large, as opposed to the overwhelming feelings of love he felt now. Of course he had loved Catherine, but it had been almost a schoolboy’s sort of love. What he felt now for Henrietta was infinitely different.

  Often he had cursed himself, reliving in his mind the events of his first marriage and the war. If he hadn’t married Catherine, he had reflected for what seemed a hundred times, she perhaps would be living now. Had his selfish sense of duty to Highbury and his country led to her death? It was too much to think about, and often he had chased away those nagging thoughts with a bottle of scotch. He prayed that God would forgive any sin of his against Catherine and that she, in heaven now, he felt sure, would forgive him, too.

  And suddenly, Henrietta was here before him, and his heart was beating terribly in his chest. Mr. Hennessey, tears on his cheeks, lifted her veil for her and kissed her cheek, looking at her so lovingly, almost forlornly, that Clive knew Henrietta’s stubborn insistence that he walk her down the aisle had been the right decision. Mr. Hennessey took her hand, then, and sturdily placed it in Clive’s so that Clive could feel her trembling, making him want to tightly embrace her, but he manfully stood his ground.

  “You take care of this girl, Clive Howard,” Mr. Hennessey whispered to him fiercely. “She’s come to be very precious to me.”

  Clive shook his hand and was about to answer but found to his dismay that he couldn’t actually speak. He could only incline his head formally instead, but Mr. Hennessey seemed to understand, and, with one last look, took his place in the pew next to his wife, who was crying in earnest.

  Fr. Michaels began the ceremony in prayer, during which Clive stood at perfect attention while Henrietta tightly gripped her bouquet, fearing that she might at any moment faint. Fr. Michaels had cautioned them both during one of their appointments with him to eat the morning of the big event, having seen his share of fainting brides, and even a couple of grooms, over the years, he had said, but she had not been able to get much down. As Fr. Michaels continued the Mass, reading the blessing in Latin from a big red book held by a small, wobbling altar boy, she tried desperately to hold on to his words, to formulate some meaning to them, but it was horribly nerve-racking knowing that the eyes of the whole congregation were on them, though they themselves couldn’t see anyone besides Fr. Michaels, standing immediately in front of the two of them. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

  Just when she thought she could stand it no longer, Fr. Michaels mercifully came to the critical moment and was instructing them to turn and face each other and to join hands, Elsie stepping quickly forward to take her bouquet for her. Henrietta was able to focus, then, on Clive’s solid face before her, his kind eyes seeming to hold her up and support her. He tenderly took her hand.

  Fr. Michaels asked each of them if they entered into this union freely, to which they both, looking into each other’s eyes, answered in the affirmative. Fr. Michaels then stated that since it was both their intention to enter into the holy sacrament of marriage, that they should state their vows now before God and the Church gathered together this day. He cleared his throat and asked Henrietta to speak first.

  She took another deep breath and repeated, in a quiet, resolved voice, after him: “I, Henrietta Elizabeth Von Harmon, take you, Clive Alcott Linley Howard, to be my husband,” (here her voice faltered a bit) “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and obey, until death do us part.” She smiled at him, then, two small tears escaping as gently as her vows had.

  Clive, his jaw clenching furiously, repeated likewise. “I, Clive Alcott Linley Howard, take you, Henrietta Elizabeth Von Harmon, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part,” he said in a clear, steady voice.

  Major Barnes-Smith was asked to produce the rings, which Fr. Michaels blessed, and they were exchanged as well, each of them saying as they slipped the rings onto each other’s fingers—Henrietta’s still trembling dreadfully—“I give you this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen.”

  After more prayers and yet another blessing, Fr. Michaels pronounced them man and wife and told Clive that he may kiss his bride, which he did with surprising tenderness, as he looked at her with absolute love—as if no one else was present, as if no one else existed.

  The Mass continued, then, again in Latin, Clive and Henrietta taking their place on the kneelers already set up for them in front of the altar. Henrietta floated through the prayers and rituals, unable to stop the beating of her heart, only occasionally glancing over at Clive—her husband!—who seemed, oddly, deep in prayer. When they did catch each other’s eyes, however, they could not repress their happy excitement, their true joy. Henrietta, in her distracted happiness, managed to offer up at least one prayer of her own as well, that she would have the strength to be a better daughter, a better sister, and most especially, of course, the wife Clive deserved and prayed that
she could make him happy in all things.

  Before she knew it, the Mass was concluding, and Fr. Michaels told them to rise for the final blessing. He sprinkled them with holy water and then prayed over them with hands outstretched: “My dear friends, let us turn to the Lord and pray that He will bless with His grace this woman, Henrietta Elizabeth, now married in Christ to this man, Clive Alcott Linley, and that He will unite in love the couple He has joined in this holy bond. Father, keep them always true to your commandments. Keep them faithful in marriage and let them be living examples of Christian life. Give them the strength that comes from the gospel so that they may be witnesses of Christ to others. Bless them with children, and help them be good parents. May they live to see their children’s children. And, after a happy old age, grant them fullness of life with the saints in the kingdom of heaven. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

  He leaned forward then and shook each of their hands, whispering, “Congratulations!” to each of them, relieving the tension that they hadn’t realized they were so dreadfully under. He motioned for them to turn to face the crowd for the first time, and he happily boomed out, “Ladies and gentleman, it is my very great pleasure to introduce to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Clive Howard.” A resounding applause erupted, and the recessional, Purcell’s “Trumpet Tune and Bell Symphony,” began its soaring notes as Elsie hurried forward to hand Henrietta her bouquet before her long walk back down the aisle, now as a married woman.