“Today we celebrate a wedding,” the minister said. “Those of you not wishing to attend may leave. Please do not linger in the churchyard and don’t allow children to play around the tombstones.”

There was a little murmur from the church wardens, who agreed with the minister, that the parish’s traditional use of the church as a gathering point was ungodly. “And those of you witnessing the wedding, please step closer,” he said.

James, looking around in surprise, glimpsed Alinor’s pale face from the corner of his eye, and remembered, with a jolt, that it was her daughter’s wedding day. He longed for Sir William to lead his household out, and a moment later, realized, with dread, that his lordship was keeping his seat in his grand chair, honoring the wedding with his presence.

Richard Stoney walked up to his place at the foot of the chancel steps, just before the altar table, which now stood, plain and unvarnished, blocking the way before the stone carved rood screen and the empty eastern end of the church.

Alinor concentrated on the wedding, erasing all thoughts of James from her mind. She smiled lovingly at Alys. “God bless,” she said. “Go on.”

Ned came from the men’s side of the church and offered his arm to Alys, as formal as a lord. Alys, very pale but smiling, smoothed the front of the new apron over the swell of her belly, and put her hand on his arm. Alinor, carrying Alys’s cape, walked behind the two of them as they made their way up the aisle towards the communion table. Ned and Alys halted before the minister so that Alinor, standing behind them, was immediately next to James in the Priory pew. It was almost as if the two of them were at the front of the church on their own wedding day. James stared fixedly ahead, his eyes blind to the wooden lectern that held the Bible in front of him. Alinor looked at the back of her daughter’s cap where the little bow trembled.

The minister read the newly approved words of the wedding service and Richard and Alys repeated their vows. Ned passed Alys’s little hand to Richard and he slipped the wedding ring on her finger. It was done. Under the shield of Alys’s cape, which Alinor held before her belly, she released the grip she had on her fingers. Relief flowed through her. It was done and Alys was now Mrs. Stoney, a married woman. Whatever became of her mother, Alys’s good name was secured, her future was guaranteed. Alinor felt hot tears behind her eyelids: Alys was a married woman; she was Mrs. Stoney of Stoney Farm. Alys was safe.

“Amen,” said Sir William loudly, and everyone repeated it.

Richard kissed his bride and everyone moved forward to congratulate the young couple. Alys, rosy and smiling, kissed everyone. Richard was slapped on the back and congratulated. They paused before Sir William, who kissed the bride. James smiled his congratulations and shook Richard’s hand. Then suddenly the crowd of well-wishers parted, and James was facing Alinor. She felt it was as if they were quite alone, in a silent world.

“I congratulate you on your daughter’s happiness, Mrs. Reekie.” He found he could hardly speak, as if he had taken a blow to the mouth and his face was numb.

“Thank you.”

He could hardly hear her above the chatter of people congratulating the young couple, the creak of the church door, and people going out into the freezing churchyard outside and exclaiming about the cold. He tried to say other words of goodwill, but he could not speak. She glanced at him once, and looked down.

“We’ll call in at the wedding dinner,” Sir William announced jovially. “We were riding up to Chichester anyway.”

“Delighted!” Mrs. Stoney said, stepping forward, blushing with pride. “We should be so pleased.”

Alinor did not look at James to prompt him to refuse. It was as if they had nothing between them, no secret, no love, and he would not have understood why she did not want him at her daughter’s wedding feast. It was as if everything was forgotten, as if they were strangers, as he had said they would be. She curtseyed to her landlord, and to the man she had adored, turned away without another word, and followed Alys out into the cold winter sunshine.

Ned and Rob had already gone back to man the ferry for the many people who were walking to Stoney Farm. Farmer Stoney was waiting on the box of the wagon outside the lych-gate.

“That was a good day’s work, Mrs. Reekie,” he said, pleased as Alinor came through the gate.

“Yes indeed,” Alinor said, smiling.

“I never thought you’d get the dowry together,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “You must have sold young Rob to Virginia, rather than an apprenticeship.”

Alinor tried to laugh. “She’s a good girl,” she said. “She’s been working every day, and spinning all night.”

“Even so,” he said. “I know that won’t have covered it. I hope you haven’t put yourselves in debt.”

“Alys had her father’s gift, and my brother helped,” Alinor said, concealing Richard’s part.

“Up you get then,” he said to her, giving a hand to help her into the wagon. “And here’s our little bride.”

Alys sat in the seat of honor, beside Mr. Stoney on the box seat. Mrs. Stoney squeezed in beside her, Alinor and Richard sat on the back, and a few of the Stoney neighbors climbed in to save the walk. Mrs. Wheatley came from the Priory with the footman, Stuart, carrying a great fruit cake, and was helped into the wagon and held the cake on her knees.

“All aboard?” Mr. Stoney said, and clicked to the horse to start. Alinor, looking back down the road, saw that James was mounted on horseback already, but someone had delayed Sir William. He was on his horse, speaking to one of his tenants, who was earnestly explaining something, his cap in his hand. The bend in the road hid them from sight. She hoped very much that Sir William and James would be delayed, and then decide against coming at all. She did not know how she would get through Alys’s wedding dinner if James were to be there, not looking at her, not speaking to her, not even a stranger to her; but worse than a stranger—a man who had chosen to be rid of her and showed no signs of regret.

The tide was ebbing at the wadeway, low enough for Mr. Stoney to drive the wagon through the water, and the people who were on foot crossed on the ferry, with Ned pulling on the rope. As it was Alys’s wedding day, he charged no one and there were many jokes that he would charge them double to get home again. Ned would stay with the ferry till all the guests had crossed the rife, and then he and Rob would follow the bridal party to the tide mill.

“See you later!” Alys called to him. “Don’t be late!”

Ned waved and pulled the ferry back to the island as the wagon went towards the mill. Mr. Miller was standing at the five-barred gate to the yard. “Come in! Come in! Toast to the bride!” he exclaimed. “And we have a ham to give you for your wedding feast.”

“I’m grateful,” Mr. Stoney said, turning the horses into the mill yard.

“We can’t stop long,” Mrs. Stoney cautioned him, stepping down from the box. “We have to get to Stoney Farm before Sir William. Sir William is coming to our house for the bridal dinner.”

“You’ll see him riding past,” Mr. Miller assured her. “He’ll stop for a glass of my ale too, I don’t doubt. I’ve never known him go past my door.”