He granted her wish, somewhat reluctantly. The occasion, a ball. Having done the parks and streets, he, in conjunction with her parents, agreed something more visible was needed to raise their profile. The ball, hosted by a mill owner in his modest townhouse, afforded an opportunity to mix with Alice’s friends—a brash group of giggling girls.
“Lucy, you must get yourself betrothed,” announced Alice, once the introductions had been completed. “It is such fun to have a man escort you hither and thither. I am gaining a measure of practice at it. Am I not, Colonel Seymour?” She cocked her head to one side, grinning from ear to ear.
Edmund certainly could agree—they had done much walking in recent weeks. His legs were more accustomed to horseback riding than cobble streets and garden paths. “You are. So is my purse, since you insist on buying trinkets in every shop we attend.”
Lucy smothered a titter. “Alice, you are fortunate. To have met the colonel here and then betrothed so quickly. What have you been doing?”
Edmund cleared his throat with a brisk cough. He hoped Alice wouldn’t be tempted to answer such an impertinent question.
Alice glanced quickly at him, then lowered her voice. “My lips are supposed to be sealed. I can assure you, though, the incident bestowed a very worthy outcome on me.”
Edmund frowned, while her friends blushed, especially, the shy one, Ann.
“Alice,” rebuked Edmund, “not a suitable topic. As you well know.”
Alice brushed her hand down his arm. “Oh, colonel, you would spoil my fun. I’m with friends.”
He took in the collection of friends, who seemed to hang on Alice’s every word like puppy dogs expecting a bone to chew on. He didn’t dislike them, but he saw no attraction in their manners. Alice, once in their company, had reverted to a level of immaturity he considered beneath her status as his betrothed. How he wished he could take her to one side and impose order on her unruly ways. He fashioned the scenario in his mind. A quiet room, just the two of them, a word of warning in her ears, and then, if she still defied him, a brisk moment over his knee.
But not yet. Once they married, such a response would be fitting. Until then, he would have to stow his hand away and hope his words were sufficient admonishment. A pity, he didn’t delight in the idea of disciplining her, yet, he wondered how she might take it. How it would effect her opinion of him.
He gave Alice one last furrow of his eyebrows, and with a roll of her eyes, she changed the topic of conversation to the latest fashions in hat attire. Edmund sighed in relief.
On one bright spring day, when all the necessary formalities of courtship had been completed and the Aubrey’s reputation returned to its proper place, he reported to Alice his leave of absence from the army and his impending retirement. He also informed her that once they were married he would cease to wear his uniform.
“Oh, will I not see you in that fine red coat any longer? What a pity,” she pouted with downcast eyes.
“Being your husband will be my new uniform. I shall wear the role with pride,” he told her, hoping to see her rather pretty eyes lift up.
She did, but with a quizzical expression. “Tell me, colonel, what is the nature of marriage for you?”
Edmund decided to be bluntly honest. “I will care for you, protect you and bestow my honour upon your person. You must be devoted to me. However, I will be strict. I am not of the same ilk as your father. You must expect me to discipline you if you should wander from the path of good, decent behaviour. Just as you favour the uniform outwardly, I favour the well-behaved wife, visible to all, especially me.”
Alice’s lips quivered, but she didn’t inquire about his meaning of the wor
d discipline. At some point she would find out, he surmised, given her rather bold nature.
Seeing her perturbed expression, he sought to reassure her. “However, I will love you too. This is my promise to you,” he said with sincerity. The words slipped out of his mouth unexpectedly, yet he had to assume he meant them in earnest, or why else would he have spoken them?
* * *
The luxurious barouche carriage, hired by Edmund for the wedding day, ferried Alice from Dodsworth House to the small parish church. Later, after the brief ceremony, Edmund accompanied her back to the house for the breakfast feast, which they shared with only the closest of friends—a rather disappointing banquet, but one she could not protest about. As the afternoon arrived, the horses were once again hitched to the barouche to take the newly wedded couple to Buxton. A journey across the Peaks on a rough, heavily used turnpike.
Alice said a tearful farewell to her parents. She embraced her mother and then held her father’s hands and he gave hers a squeeze, calming her anxieties. His face appeared proud beneath a veneer of sadness.
A purple bloom of heather greeted Alice as they journeyed over the moors of the Peaks. The horses struggled to climb the steep inclines until they reached the plateau at the top, then, having taken refreshments at an inn, they descended to the valley below and the town of Buxton.
Before they reached the outskirts, the coachman turned the barouche off the turnpike and onto a track. It led them passed a wood, a lake and then the landscape opened up into a vast parkland. Alice gawped at the scenery; Westfell Hall stood at the end of the small valley and she never imagined it would be such a grand and elegant property.
The servants had lined up in the marble hallway to welcome them, bobbing curtseys or dipping their heads accordingly. Alice smiled nervously at the footmen and maids; she hadn’t expected there would be quite the number of domestic staff. She wished she had paid more attention to her mother’s lectures on housekeeping.
“I have been planning my retirement for some time,” whispered Edmund when she queried the number. “The house has been well prepared for our arrival.”
Her husband showed her about the rooms in a typical brisk fashioned, practically marching her through the various receptions rooms. He showed no interest in the bedrooms, remarking many were covered in dustsheets, as they were not required.
Edmund, she realised, had something quite different on his mind. Soon after she had finished tea in his stylish drawing room he requested she retire to bed.
“There is the final matter of this special day to take care of, my dear,” he said eyeing her as if she were a rabbit caught in a trap.