Vice and Virtue Read Online Free PDF Page A

heart to look forward to the events leading up to the bride-bedding. But she made no comment while her sisters scooped up handfuls of greenery, sticking sprays in each other’s hair, and trying to do the same to their mother. Mrs Eversedge resisted, though amiably. “Oh, girls, if only your father were alive to see this!”
    “If Father were alive, Aurora would not be in this situation.”
    Everyone turned to Flora, who immediately flushed. “I mean,” she continued, twisting a sprig of rosemary in her fingers, “Mr Francis – Edward, that is – would never have… Oh, do not listen to me. I have spoken hastily.”
    “Quite right, young lady, you have,” admonished her mother. “And you must apologize.”
    Edward held up his hand. “My dear madam, Flora is mortified enough.” An expectant silence hung upon the room as he came to Aurora’s side, took her hand and drew her to her feet. “We are all aware,” he declared, “that the circumstances of this wedding are not what Aurora deserves. Her father would not have parted with his daughter in anything but the traditional manner, bestowing upon her a dowry and demanding, rightly, that a contract be drawn up. But I will do everything in my power to honour and protect Aurora, and to make her as happy as she has made me today.”
    He leaned towards Aurora and placed a kiss upon her lips. She had never been kissed by a man before. His mouth felt soft, and the stubble on his chin scratched her skin. But Aurora did not feel the emotion a bride should feel. She felt a sense of loss. She was no longer Aurora Eversedge, eldest daughter of a Westminster mantua-maker. She was Aurora Francis, mistress of Hartford House, and whatever lay before her was in the hands of this plain, bookish, music-loving man.
    A stifled exclamation came from Eleanora. She was staring at the bay leaves in her hand as if she were wondering how they had got there. “Oh, Aurora!” Advancing towards her eldest sister, she held out her arms. “I hope he loves you truly!”
    And, clinging to Aurora as tightly as a child to its mother, she burst into tears.
    The fragrance of rosemary and bay reminded Aurora of Father’s garden. He had favoured flowers, but had grown herbs too, for the cooking pot and to indulge his love of orderliness. Rosemary, thyme, lavender, parsley, all in rows, and the pretty bay tree in the corner, against a sunny wall. When Aurora and her sisters were small, they were set to picking and drying the herbs for muslin bags, or to be stored in the kitchen. Aurora had loved the bursts of scent that came from the crushed thyme, the solid, shiny green of the bay leaves, the papery lavender flowers.
    The smell filled the room. Edward’s bedchamber was not large, but it had a pleasant aspect, with windows on two sides. Hartford House was square and well built, with a carved canopy above the door. The windowpanes sparkled, the grounds were neat, the furniture and decoration tasteful. Throughout the afternoon, Aurora’s mother had not been able to hide her satisfaction at the prospect of her daughter’s substantial inheritance. Later, she had demanded to make Aurora ready for bed and present her to her new husband in the bedchamber, as tradition demanded. But seeing Aurora’s discomfiture, Edward had instructed Mr Allcott to take Mrs Eversedge and her younger daughters home to Dacre Street, and leave himself and his new bride in peace.
    Aurora’s eyes became hot as she imagined the conversation in the carriage. This stuffy, fragrance-filled room was very different from the chamber she and Flora had shared. She already missed the sight of Flora’s face, animated in the candlelight, her stream of chatter mingling with the street sounds below. But Aurora had secured her freedom from that childhood existence by making her bargain with Edward. She had taken a step into a new world.
    Her mother had explained what her husband would expect from her in return. She considered herself