The Engagement (continued)
In the letter, Lord Davers reproved me for thinking to marry below my station. I was a foolish man who did not know his own mind. I should leave Lincolnshire immediately and join my sister in London where I would regain my senses. I should remember my past follies—
The words were my sister’s, not his. Barbara has tried to manage me since the day I was born. I am younger by seven years, and although I am the heir, she has always believed she knows best how I should behave, who I should associate with, how I should handle the family’s estates. She will use any past mistake, any indiscretion of mine to gain her ends.
My sister and I inherited our father’s temper, if not his lack of humor, though I am more generous—in my better moments, at least. But then I had our mother’s influence. She and Barbara never got on. My sister saw our mother as compliant and dreamy while I marveled at her steadiness and good will.
I found those qualities in Pamela. Pamela is occasionally obstructive, even saucy, acerbic, but no screamer and certainly no bully. She retreats into herself—sometimes too much—but when she speaks up, you had better listen. She was and is a far better person than I.
I got home late, near supper time. Pamela had been worried by my absence, and I told her about the letter. I didn’t know who was sending information to my sister, so I suggested we let everyone, even my servants, believe our marriage would be in two Thursdays while marrying that coming Thursday. Only Williams, who would perform the ceremony, and Parson Peters, who would assist, would know the truth.
Pamela agreed. I never pressured her.
It is true that Wednesday night, she was pale and jittery. We ate together in the parlor. Rather, I ate while Pamela fidgeted. Finally, I rang for the plates to be taken away and pulled Pamela onto my lap.
“I thought all doubts had been dealt with,” I said against her hair.
She pressed her face to my arm, her fingers kneading the cuff of my white shirt; I’d removed my frock coat.
I smoothed her hair and sighed. “We can choose another day if you think your fears will abate.”
“Whatever day we choose, I will feel the same beforehand. I just wish I had a woman to confide in.”
I felt the unfairness of her position then. Sexual education for men is largely predicated on exposure to their peers. Sexual education for women, on the other hand, seems to depend mostly on their mothers.
Cross-Examination
“Not that your almost-rape had anything to do with Pamela’s fears,” Gary said sarcastically.
Mr. B lowered his head, brows furrowed. Judge Hardcastle reckoned Mr. B did make the connection. Unfortunately, Gary—however inappropriately—had a point.
Deborah said, “Uncertainty before marriage is customary in romance novels.”
That tickled the judge. “Pre-wedding jitters!”
“When people don’t know the facts of life—” Gary began.
“People in the eighteenth century knew the facts of life,” Leslie Quinn said. She sounded rather tired, but then the CLF consistently refused to acknowledge that people before the CLF came along knew anything about anything.
“Sometimes,” Deborah said, ignoring the seething assumptions around her. “Sometimes, the heroines know the facts of life; sometimes, they don’t. But they are always concerned they won’t satisfy their rake husbands.”
Mr. B began to protest, then shut his mouth.
“Of course, they always do satisfy them,” Deborah said blithely, and the judge saw Mr. B smirk at the table top. “Personally,” she continued, “I think the wedding was perfect: intimate and heartfelt.”
Gary rolled his eyes. “And, of course, romance novels always have perfect weddings.”
“Of course.”
“This whole novel is nothing but trite and shallow pandering,” Gary declaimed. “What about death, disease, poverty, slavery, racism—all the terrible issues of the eighteenth century? Hmm? I mean women couldn’t even vote! But no, we’re fixated on watching an inconsequential couple tie the knot.”
The judge glanced towards the characters’ table. Mr. B was still smiling faintly. He hadn’t flinched at being called “inconsequential.” Presumably, people of the eighteenth century were less obsessed with getting their “day in court” than people of the twenty-first.
The judge reminded himself not to chuckle at his own pun.
“People hid their heads in the sand,” Gary was still declaiming. “Just like they do today.”
Deborah said, “That sounds like the end of a lecture,” and Gary reddened.
She was probably right—the man certainly loved to carp about stuff—but the judge didn’t want audience members giving the CLF any (more) reason to complain.
He said pacifically, “Different novels cover different topics.”
Leslie Quinn agreed, “People in the eighteenth century still had to work, love, have children, get along. Those topics never go away.”
Dr. Matchel said, “But romance novels don’t deal with real domestic problems. They end with the wedding, giving readers the false impression that married life will be eternally happy. Escapist literature!”
“This novel doesn’t end with the wedding,” Lonquist said.
Mr. Shorter muttered, “What’s wrong with escapism?”
Deborah added, “Dark and depressing isn’t automatically profound.”
“Let’s hear about the wedding,” the judge said.
Testimony of Mr. B Corresponding to The Wedding Day
The morning was something of a blur. I remember speaking to Pamela, who was even jumpier than she’d been the night before. She says I told her to cheer up or the parsons would think she wanted to marry someone else.
I don’t remember saying that. I do remember eating breakfast with Williams and Peters, then arranging to visit the chapel, so Peters could see the restorations (part of our subterfuge).
I remember standing at the altar with Pamela. We were both rather solemn until Williams said, “If either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye should confess it.”
I murmured, “Do you?” to Pamela, and she blushed and said, “No, sir, only my great unworthiness.”
That startled me—she was perfectly serious—but then Williams asked, “Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife?” and I said, “I will” since, “Of course, you idiot” would have been rude.
I held my breath when he asked Pamela if she would have me and begged Providence to dampen her doubts. She curtsied and pressed my hand. Williams faltered, but Peters nodded to him to continue.
 |
| This chapel is French, not English; |
| however, like Mr. B's chapel, |
| it lies on a private estate. |
Pamela spoke up when it came to the actual vows, agreeing “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” on which words, she raised her eyes to me and smiled.
And all uncertainties left me.
“You curtsied when I gave you the ring,” I told her later in the carriage after we had drunk a celebratory toast and sent the parsons on their way.
“I don’t remember.”
“I hope you remember giving Mrs. Jewkes a hug.” She’d done it on the church steps after the ceremony, startling Mrs. Jewkes.
“She was a great comfort last night,” she said, “if a little crude.”
Cross-Examination
Dr. Matchel said, “Our earlier point stands. Mr. B cared so little for his fiancée’s state of mind, he exposed her to a bawdy, callous women—”
Mr. B said, “Pamela was grateful to Mrs. Jewkes. She was the only servant who knew we were marrying, and she helped Pamela through a difficult time.”
“You’d like to think that.”
“Pamela doesn’t lie.”
Gary said sarcastically, “Oh, I’m sure she always tells you the truth.”
Mr. B spread his hands, looking bewildered and, for a rare moment, very young. Apparently, the judge thought, he thinks she does.
Dr. Matchel said, “Mr. B should have put off the wedding until Pamela could be joined by her mother.”
“He explained that,” Lonquist said. “He was afraid his sister would interfere—”
“Exactly. He was afraid of another woman who might have helped Pamela.” Dr. Matchel had the grace not to look directly at anyone. From what the judge had heard, Lady Davers was the least helpful person in the entire novel. “Pamela was in a state of extreme anxiety.”
Mr. B said desperately, “She got over it,” and the judge motioned for him to continue.
