The Marriage of Mary Russell Read Online Free PDF Page A

the Church: We being willing that these your honest Desires may the more speedily obtain a due Effect, and to the end therefore that this Marriage may be publicly and lawfully solemnised in the ~ Parish ~ Church of ~
    Saint Wulfstan’s in Northamptonshire ~
    by the RECTOR, VICAR, or CURATE thereof, without the Publication or Proclamation of the Banns of Matrimony, provided there shall appear no Impediment of Kindred or Alliance, or of any other lawful Cause, nor any suit commenced in any Ecclesiastical Court, to bar or hinder the Proceeding of the said Matrimony
    There was quite a bit more of this sparsely-punctuated prose, with a formal signature at the bottom: + RANDALL CANTAUR.
    I blinked. After a moment, I removed my spectacles and rubbed my tired eyes, before resuming the attempt. But it would seem that the problem was less in my vision than in my comprehension.
    “The Archbishop of Canterbury?” I said weakly.
    “He owed me a favour. Several, come to that.”
    “ ‘The Parish of All Saints Oxford’?”
    “He thought it convenient, being the University church. And I imagined you might appreciate the designation.”
    The Church often gave the name “All Saints” to churches built on previous sites of pagan—or occasionally Jewish—importance. Had I told him that? God only knew.
    “ ‘Saint Wulfstan’s’?”
    “Ah, yes. That ate up two or three of the favours owed, since it’s not exactly the correct name for the chapel.”
    Or the location—assuming this was his “family chapel.”
    “Holmes, what is this?”
    “I should have thought it obvious,” he said in surprise, and leant over me to tap the line that followed the chapel name—or, mis-name. “No banns; no public notice. And since the family—that is, Mycroft and I—appoint the chapel’s rector, we can take whomever we like along for the purpose, and issue the appointment then and there. However, may I draw your attention to the addendum on the side?”
    His long fingers swivelled the elaborate form ninety degrees, so I could read aloud the print: “ ‘This License to continue in force only Three Months, from the date hereof.’ ” July was five months off, not three. “And also please note the emendation to the time of day.” The formal hand that had filled in our names, our details, and the chapel designation had also struck through the word “Forenoon” to replace it with “Evening.”
    “ ‘Between the hours of Eight and Twelve in the
Evening
.’ ”
    “Mycroft has arranged a special train for six tonight. I’ve put Billy in charge of finding Watson and delivering him to Euston by a quarter to. I shall somehow get Mrs Hudson there at the same time, although I may need to dose her with laudanum in the process. I shan’t be there—I will take an earlier train up, so as to examine the ground before the, er, guests arrive.”
    My eyes had fixed on one particular line: …
resolved to proceed to the Solemnisation of true and lawful Matrimony.
For some reason, the words wavered in my vision.
    “Oh, Holmes,” I whispered. My attempted gift had been returned to me, tenfold.
    —
    Three o’clock in the morning may not be the ideal time to embark on a project both abrupt and important, but embark we did. Following much strong coffee and a change of clothing (for me, that is: opening my deceased father’s wardrobe to Holmes would have had overtones even a non-Freudian could hardly deny), we got the motorcar running and I took him to his villa, then turned my head-lamps in the direction of London. Despite his less-than-complimentary assurance that no-one cared what I wore so long as I was able to run in it, I refused to be wed in a twice-let-down frock and shoes more suited to a farmyard.
    In an odd coincidence of impulse and practicality, I had recently set up an establishment in London composed of a too-large and peculiarly furnished Bloomsbury flat into which I had poured unlikely knickknacks, expensive clothing,