Mr. Waddell’s eyes narrowed. Solomon wondered yet again why they hadn’t simply pretended to be married. With considerably less enthusiasm than he had shown before, the rector gestured to Solomon to precede him out of the room.
“Oh, Mr. Burbank, won’t you give me a kiss before you go?”
Solomon stared at Serena. She tilted up her head invitingly, and her gray eyes shimmered. It would serve her right if he shoved his tongue in her mouth. Instead he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t forget to talk as loudly as possible,” she whispered in his ear.
Solomon smiled insincerely. She hadn’t needed to remind him yet again. He already had a plan. He had formed it the moment they walked through the door. “Here, my dear,” he said solicitously, pulling a small Bible off a nearby shelf and handing it to her. “I wouldn’t want you to be bored. Why don’t you occupy yourself in reading Scripture while you wait for the reverend and me to return? May I recommend Proverbs Thirty-one to your attention? It speaks most eloquently of the duties of a virtuous wife.”
Well, she needed something to pass the time until she was sure they were out of earshot. Idly, Serena opened the little Bible and turned to Proverbs. A number of them sounded familiar. She pictured Solomon as a little boy, memorizing the words of his namesake, and smiled.
From the front of the church, the organist began to practice. Good. That would nicely cover any sound she had to make.
Solomon had looked so put-upon when the rector decided they had been anticipating their vows. Pretending morning sickness had been the easiest way to convince him there was no need for a doctor. She knew it would have made more sense—and offended Solomon’s sensibilities less—to simply pretend to be married, but somehow she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. She was close enough to married as it was.
Serena told herself she ought to wait a minute or two more, to be certain the rector wouldn’t return for something he had forgotten, or bring her a glass of water, or the like. But in truth, she was putting off looking for what she was afraid to find.
She glanced back down at Proverbs. She wondered if he liked the Song of Solomon, too. As a child she’d thought it rather peculiar, too many goats and odd metaphors, but when she flipped to it now and began reading, the words had a power she didn’t expect.
As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons.
She read it again. It was a perfect description of Solomon. An apple tree among the trees of the wood. She shut the book firmly. Enough maundering.
She rose from the hard bench and went to the lectern. Opening the register, she flipped backward until she came to Saturday, April 6, 1813. Surely she wouldn’t find anything—
Christ, there it was. There it really was, neatly written in black ink.
René du Sacreval of Paris and Serena Ravenshaw of Ravenscroft both of this Parish were Married in this Church by Banns this sixth Day of April, one-thousand, eight hundreds and thirteen by me Charles Waddell Curate. This Marriage was Solemnized between us René du Sacreval and Serena Ravenshaw now du Sacreval, in the Presence of John Richardson & John Stephenson.
She gripped the edge of the lectern until her knuckles were white. How long had he been planning this, then? She looked at the preceding Sunday.
Sunday, March 31st. The Banns of Marriage were duly Published the third time between René du Sacreval and Serena Ravenshaw, both of this Parish by me Charles Waddell, Curate.
She turned the page feverishly.
Sunday, March 24th. The Banns of Marriage were duly Published the second time between René du Sacreval and Serena Ravenshaw, both of this Parish.
Sunday, March 17th. The Banns of Marriage were duly Published the first time between René du Sacreval and Serena Ravenshaw, both of this Parish.
Dear God. He had really done it. But how?
She looked closer. The handwriting didn’t match, but the signatures—the signatures were all perfect. She examined the book more closely: it was loosely bound in groups of folded-in-half sheets. If she ripped out both halves, she would leave no telltale ragged edge. She looked at the page from the other side. There was a note in