Vice and Virtue Read Online Free Page A

around the room, then patted the cushion on the left-hand chair. “The bride is to sit here, and the groom on the other chair, if you please.”
    They sat down. Edward reached into his pocket and laid some coins upon the Prayer Book on the table, and the ceremony began. Before many minutes had passed, Aurora and Edward had each made their responses, and Edward had placed a gold ring upon Aurora’s finger. Within another few minutes the clergyman had presented certificates for them to sign, and in less than a minute after that, they were pronounced married.
    “Your names shall be entered in the parish register without delay,” the clergyman informed them. And with that, he opened the door behind the table and disappeared.
    Aurora was trembling. It was too late to go back now. She had done it. She was married. Her ears buzzed. All she could hear was her mother sniffling into a handkerchief.
    She felt Edward take her arm. “The wedding breakfast awaits us at Hartford House,” he announced to the company. “Come, my wife and I will lead the way.”
    Aurora got to her feet, and the little wedding party walked out of the mean room, through the inn and into the street. All around them strangers noticed their smart clothes and Aurora’s bouquet, and called out good wishes.
    The carriage was still at the end of the street. Edward’s coachman, who looked no older than Aurora herself, handed the ladies to their seats. Then he took Edward’s stick, settled him comfortably and placed a rug around his knees. “Thank you, Burns,” said his master.
    The carriage swayed as Burns and Richard Allcott climbed up to the box. Aurora heard a shouted command to the horses, then the creaking of the wheels. Their progress over the cobbles was slow and jolting. She looked out of the window, wondering how long it would be before she saw London streets again.
    She shifted her gaze. Her husband, who sat opposite, was watching her, smiling. There it was, the thin-lipped smile that barely creased the corners of his mouth, studied and self-conscious. Aurora did not return it.
    The wedding breakfast continued into the late afternoon. In a dining room from which long windows opened on to a pretty garden, Aurora’s sisters had fallen upon a table spread with cold beef, pies, sweetmeats, cheese, fruit and the kind of wine jellies they had last seen before their father died, and then only at Christmas. But Aurora had not allowed herself to feel embarrassed. It was clear that Edward Francis had no intention of displaying anything but generosity towards her relations; she had resolved to let his behaviour be the guide of hers.
    As dusk spread over the garden, she watched a man-servant lighting the wall candles. Fatigue, wine and rich food had rendered her very sleepy. She put her elbows on the table, supported her chin on her hands and endeavoured to keep her eyes from closing.
    “Aurora!” Flora, her round face pink with excitement, seized both her sister’s hands and tried to draw her to her feet. “Come on, the dancing is beginning! And you know what the gentlemen must do! Mother, you tell her!”
    Mrs Eversedge regarded her eldest daughter with affection. “You are tired, my dear, I know, but tradition must play its part.”
    Aurora rose unsteadily. A group of musicians waited in the corner of the room while the man-servant and the young coachman moved the table nearer the wall to make space for dancing. Feeling foolish, she curtseyed to Edward, and he bowed. Both he and Richard Allcott, who was bowing to Flora, were smiling, though Edward’s unease was obvious.
    Aurora sympathized with him. She knew she had to be patient with her sisters’ enthusiasm for wedding tradition. But a man whose lungs were diseased would surely dance only the first, and Mr Allcott was the only other gentleman present. If they wished to dance for longer, Aurora and her sisters, not for the first time, would have to partner each other.
    The dancing began. The