The Wedding

It felt as though salt covered every surface and Samson felt uneasy about it. This was potentially as far out of his comfort zone as could be. He paced the passenger lounge where Percy sat looking bored and August stood on the bench looking out the porthole.

“I can see land,” he said excitedly. “Can we go up on deck?

It had to smell better up there than it did down here. “Come on, then,” Samson said to the boy. If he could see land, it meant they were arriving soon. Why the hell was Aurelius getting married out here. It made no sense. Well, it did if his aim was to ensure no one bothered to attend his wedding.

“I swear this is so much worse than going to Amsterdam,” Percy said. “But that was a proper passenger ship, while this…” he said, looking around at the worn furniture. This was a working ship rather than one meant to transport fine-heeled people. As far as Samson expected, there were no fine-heeled people in this godforsaken place. “Where’s Harry?”

“Still upstairs, I expect,” Samson said. “Unless he blew away.”

“A poor place for such humor,” Percy chided.

This had to be her doing, Miss Foster. Aurelius would never choose to get married in such a inhospitable place. From what they understood, he’d been here a month. It seemed he couldn’t be swayed away from his attachment to this woman. Not that anyone had really tried. Percy seemed pleased for some reason. As for himself, he only saw it as an utter shame—the victory of sentimentality over logic. Aurelius believed himself in love, and he was ready to forgo everything he could gain through marriage for this woman—who he actually hated, mind you.

Samson was never going to be that stupid. But then, he didn’t have it in him to believe such tripe either. Women were women, and from what he’d seen none of them were better than any. Fundamentally, different versions of problematic.

The movement of the ship was most uncomfortable as one climbed the stairs, to be met by blustery wind that cut through all clothes. How these men managed to work in their wool jumpers, he had no idea. Well, the body got used to anything given enough exposure. Harry stood by the entrance, where he seemed to have been most of the time, his hands on August’s shoulders as if he didn’t trust the boy.

A curious feeling being back at Eton to pick him up, but it had been their task to fetch him and transport him here. At times the wind was utterly of sea, salt, rain and freshness, other times, it smelled awful. Decades of fish, and whatever else this ship carried. Really, if his intended wanted to marry someone like this, it was reason for calling a wedding off.

Gray sheets of rain made it hard to make out the land ahead. Some of the other passengers came up too, and they looked… weathered.

“I hate the sea,” Samson muttered. This was definitely a setting where he felt out of place, and he didn’t like it. And he also felt the curious glances from the other passengers as well as the sailors, the silent accusation that they were far from where they were supposed to be, with their fine tailoring and cleanliness. “I need a drink.”

There was busyness at the port as they sailed in with a lot of shouting from the men on the ship followed by equal yelling from the dock workers.

“Here we are,” Percy said.

“Uncle!” August shouted and waved his arms. Samson followed his gaze and it took him a moment to confirm that the man he saw on the dock was Aurelius, because he looked similar to the dock workers. Trousers and a wool jumper. What the hell had happened here?

August ran ahead when the gangway was extended and the passengers were let off.

“What in all hell are you wearing?” Percy said when they reached him. “Has this island adopted you?”

“It’s suitable to the climate. Good to see you, my friends. Come,” he said and led them into the township. “The pub has rooms for you.”

That was apparently the best that could be hoped for. He walked ahead with his arms around August’s shoulders. The boy was beyond excited. “Where’s Miss Foster?”

“She’s teaching. We can go collect her when school’s out.”

Aurelius led them to a pub with small windows. The dark and warm interior was somewhat welcoming, including a long bar with a few local men along it. They all stared, but Aurelius ignored everyone and led them to a table towards the back. Actually, the fire was most welcome. Samson only now noticed how frozen he was. Both him and Harry stood in front of the fire, while Aurelius ordered ales, along with some whiskey—which would be much appreciated.

“Now why have we had to traipse out to the end of the earth for this wedding?” Percy asked. “One has to wonder if you were hoping your oldest friends wouldn’t attend.”

“Annabelle is still teaching. The new teacher actually came on the ship with you.”

“Is that who she was?” Percy said. Samson had no idea who they were talking about—mostly because he’d paid sparse attention to the other passengers.

“Also, with her friends from the school, Annabelle has more people supporting her here than anywhere else,” he continued.

“A more spectacular wedding could have benefits,” Samson said. “It could increase her acceptance.”

“Speed was more important,” Aurelius countered.

“Oh?” Percy added. “No further details are needed. I suspect you’ll have a sibling before summer, August.”

Was that color in Aurelius’ cheeks?

“The wedding’s tomorrow?” Harry asked.

“Yes, at two.”

“You’re the first one of us to get married,” Harry continued.

“Hardly surprising,” Samson said. “Although the circumstances are a bit more unusual.” Love made people insane, and this was utter madness. Out of the two of them, he wasn’t sure who seduced who, but perhaps it was bound to happen if you lived in the same house. Not a strategy he could deploy with Miss Roxburgh. Something more clever was needed to snare such a catch. Unlike Aurlius, he didn’t have the leeway to marry someone with no prospects. It would likely be decades until his family wealth could assist him. A good marriage would be the making of him. But perhaps he could learn something in terms of catching someone far above him in status, which was exactly what Miss Foster had achieved.

Drinks were brought and Samson claimed a glass of whiskey, which would help him warm up.

“Now, it’s time to walk up the hill if you want to come, August,” Aurelius said. “I’ll leave the rest of you for a while. Just tell Tobias if you want to be shown to your rooms.” He indicated toward the man behind the bar. “Else, we should be back in an hour or so. I’m sure I can leave you to amuse yourself in a pub.”

“We’ve never failed before,” Harry said. “It’s amazing how tiring sea travel is. I think it’s the constant movement.”

Aurelius and August left, and Samson was sure he’d never seen his friend walk with such determined steps.

“I suspect they’ve had the honeymoon before the wedding,” Percy stated.

“Probably something you can do in a place like this,” Harry added. “He seems happy.”

“Took him long enough,” Percy said.

What he needed to do was get Miss Roxburgh to fall in love with him the way Aurelius had with Miss Foster, but how could he make that happen? Displays of wealth wasn’t possible in Samson’s current situation. He needed other levers to achieve his aim.

***

The church was absolutely freezing, and the weather was even worse. Gray, cold, and rainy—the kind of day no one would choose for a wedding. Aurelius didn’t notice because the man grinned like an idiot as they waited. The church was silent, but there were a surprising number of people there, including a disturbing number of young girls.

More noteworthy was the number of people on the groom’s side, of which he didn’t know a single face other than the people he’d traveled here with. By the looks of them, local people, who seemed happy to chat with Aurelius. What had he done here over the last month? It seemed the whole community had adopted them.

And then it was time, as the organ started playing. People settled, and then she was there at the entrance, wearing a light green dress. Her hair was dressed with flowers. God knows where they’d come from this time of year. This didn’t seem like the place for hothouses. It had to be admitted that she looked pretty. She’d certainly captured Aurelius.

All that he was giving up to marry her. It was… inconceivable. There were no comforts he wouldn’t give up for her, and Samson had to admit he didn’t understand it. He understood love as a concept, but in practicality… This was what it looked like. Granted, they looked happy. Utterly caught up with each other. It really was nauseating, and he hoped that he never found himself in that state—where he would do himself considerable harm just to be with her. However, something small inside him twisted with discomfort. Maybe it was envy. Some kind of recognition burned inside him, of something more than was. Also something that was dangerous. A trap laid to hurt him. No, he would never succumb to something like this.

While he hoped it worked out for his friend, Samson was too wary of placing his happiness with another person. How was that not a path to heartache? He had much better things to do with his life that to break his heart. Not that he believed that was possible. Fools rush in—wasn’t that the saying? What better example. As for himself, he didn’t suffer fools. Well, clearly Aurelius had turned into one, but he’d simply have to consider him as an unfortunate who had caught a regrettable disease that had just about rotted his mind. The idea gave him a small chuckle.

The way they stared at each other while the priest sermonized about God and family, and whatnot. Families were created in more practical ways too. This would be him and Miss Roxburgh one day, and he was sure they could achieve a contented and harmonious marriage. Surely that was possible. At least he wouldn’t be yelling at her unreasonably the way Aurelius had at Miss Foster. A fact everyone seemed to have forgotten. And now they were here, staring at each other like puppies. Nauseating. God, they were going to have to watch them kiss soon.