A fellow archaeologist and friend of Tybalt's was his best man. He was named Terence Gelding and was accompanying us to Egypt. On the night before the wedding I had not seen Tybalt. He had gone to the station to meet his friend and bring him back to Giza House where he was spending a few days. Tabitha told me on my wedding morning that they had all stayed up too late talking. I felt that vague tinge of jealousy which I had begun to notice came to me when others shared an intimacy with Tybalt and I was not present. It was foolish of me but I supposed I had dreamed so long of this happening that I could not entirely believe that it was true; there had been covert remarks about my marriage from several directions and it seemed that these insinuations had penetrated even my natural optimism. I could not help feeling a twinge of uneasiness and distrust of this sudden granting by fate of my most cherished desire.
But as I made my vows before Oliver, and Tybalt put the ring on my finger, a wonderful happiness surged over me and I was more completely happy than I had ever been.
It was disappointing that as we came into the porch the rain should begin to pelt down.
"You can't walk out in that," said Dorcas at my elbow.
"It's nothing," I said. "Just a shower and we only have to go over to the rectory."
"We'll have to wait."
She was right, of course. So we stood there, I still holding Tybalt's hand saying nothing, staring out at the rain and thinking: I'm really married ... to Tybalt!
I heard the whispers behind me.
"What a pity!"
"What bad luck!"
"Not wedding weather by any means."
A gnome-like creature came walking up from the graveyard. As it approached I saw that it was Mr. Pegger, bent double with a sack, split down one side, over his head to keep him dry. He carried a spade to which the brown earth still clung. So he had been digging somebody's grave, and was, I supposed, coming to the porch for shelter until the downpour was over.
When he saw us he pulled up short; he pushed the sack farther back and his fanatical eyes took in Tybalt and me in our wedding clothes.
He looked straight at me. "No good'ull come of such indecent haste," he said. "It's ungodly."
Then he nodded and walked past the porch with the self-righteous air of one determined to do his duty however unpleasant.
"Who on earth is that old fool?" said Tybalt.
"It's Mr. Pegger, the gravedigger."
"He's impertinent."
"Well, you see he knew me as a child and no doubt thinks I'm still one."
"He objects to your marriage."
I heard Theodosia whisper: "Oh, Evan, how unpleasant. It's like an ... omen."
I did not answer. I felt suddenly angry with all these people who for some ridiculous reason had decided that there was something strange about my marriage to Tybalt.
I looked up at the lowering sky and I seemed to hear Sarah Sloper's reedy voice: "Happy be the bride the sun shines on."
After a few minutes the rain stopped and we were able to pick our way across the grass to the vicarage.
There was the familiar drawing room decked out with chrysanthemums of all shades and starry Michaelmas daisies. A table had been set up at one end of the room and on this was a wedding cake and champagne.
I cut the cake with Tybalt's help; everyone applauded and the unpleasant incident in the porch was temporarily forgotten.
Hadrian made a witty speech and Tybalt responded very briefly. I kept saying to myself: "This is the supreme moment of my life." Perhaps I said it a little too vehemently. I could not forget Mr. Pegger's eyes peering at us in that fanatical way from under that absurd sack. The rain had started again in a heavy downpour which made itself heard.
Theodosia was beside me. "Oh, Judith," she said, "I'm so glad we're sisters. Here you are marrying Tybalt and this is what they wanted for me. So Father got his wish that his daughter marry Tybalt. Hasn't it turned out wonderfully?" She was gazing across the room at Evan who was talking to Tabitha. "I'm so grateful to you . . ."
"Grateful . . . ?"
She floundered a little. Theodosia had never been able to express her thoughts gracefully and often landed in a conversational morass from which she found it difficult to extricate herself.
"Well, for marrying Tybalt and making it all come right so that I need not have any conscience about not pleasing Father ... and all that."
She made it sound as though by marrying Tybalt I had conferred some blessing on all those who had been saved from him!
"I'm sure you'll be very happy," she said comfortingly. "You always knew so much about archaeology. It's a struggle for me to keep up with Evan, but he says don't worry. He's perfectly satisfied with me as I am."
"You're very happy, Theodosia?"
"Oh . . . blissfully. That's why I'm so . . ." She stopped.
"Grateful to me for marrying Tybalt and making it all work out smoothly. I can assure you I didn't marry him for that reason."
Sabina joined us.
"Isn't this fun. The three of us together. And now we're all married. Judith, do you like the flowers? Miss Crewe arranged them. Most of them came from her garden. Green fingers, you know. And she always makes such a success of the decorations in the church. And here we all are together. Do you remember how we used to talk in the schoolroom? Of course dramatic things would happen to Judith. They always did, didn't they? Or perhaps you made it sound dramatic and then you did turn out to be Sir Ralph's daughter ... Wrong side of the blanket of course . . . but that makes it more exciting. And now you've got Tybalt. Doesn't he look wonderful? Like a Roman god or something . . . He was always different from everybody else . . . and so are you, Judith . . . in a way. But we're sisters now, Judith. And you're Theodosia's sister. As I say it is wonderful!"
She gazed at Tybalt with that adoration I had seen so many times before.
"Fancy Tybalt's being a bridegroom! We always thought he would never marry! He's married to all that nonsense, Nanny Tester says. 'Like your father ought to have been.' I used to point out to her that if Papa had married all that nonsense I wouldn't have been here nor would Tybalt because archaeology, wonderful as Papa and Tybalt seem to find it, does not produce people, living ones anyway. Only mummies perhaps. Oh, do you remember the day when you dressed up as a mummy? What a day that was! We thought you'd killed Theodosia."
They were all laughing. I knew that Sabina would restore my spirits.
"And you said Tybalt stooped and wore spectacles and when you saw him you were struck dumb. You adored him from that moment. Oh yes you did, you can't deny it."
"I'm making no attempt to," I said.
"And now you're married to him. Your dreams have come true. Isn't that a wonderful fairy tale ending?"
"It's not an ending," said Theodosia soberly. "It's really a beginning. Evan is so pleased because he's been invited to join the expedition."
"Has he really?" cried Sabina. "That's a great honor. When he's away you must come and stay."
"I'm going with him," declared Theodosia fiercely. "You don't think I'd let Evan go without me."
"Has Tybalt said you may? Papa never liked wives around. He said they cluttered and distracted, unless they were workers themselves and quite a lot of them are . . . but you're not, Theodosia. So Tybalt has said you may! I daresay that as he's now a married man himself he has sympathy for others. You'll be company for Judith. Tabitha's going. Of course she's very knowledgeable. There she is talking to Tybalt now. I'll bet you anything you like they're talking about Egypt. Tabitha's beautiful, don't you think? She always seems to wear the right things. Elegance I suppose. Different from me. That silver grey now . . . It's just right! You'll have to be careful, Judith," she added playfully. "I was surprised that you allowed Tybalt to go off with her to Dorset. Oh I know you had to stay behind, but she's young really. About a year, possibly two years older than Tybalt, that's all. Of course she is always so quiet, so restrained, but it's the quiet ones you have to be wary of, so they say. Oh, Judith, what a way to talk to a bride on her wedding day.