‘Am I to understand, sir,’ said the chaplain, ‘that you feel this marriage should not be allowed to proceed?’
‘That is correct, sir,’ said Old Jack quietly.
‘Then I must ask you, the bride and groom and the members of their immediate family to join me in the vestry.’ Raising his voice, he added, ‘The congregation should remain in their places until I have considered the objection, and made my decision known.’
Those who had been bidden were led by the chaplain into the vestry, followed by Harry and Emma. Not one of them spoke, although the congregation continued to whisper noisily among themselves.
Once the two families had crammed themselves into the tiny vestry, the Reverend Styler closed the door.
‘Captain Tarrant,’ he began, ‘I must tell you that I alone am vested by law with the authority to decide whether this marriage should continue. Naturally I shall not come to any decision until I have heard your objections.’
The only person in that overcrowded room who appeared calm was Old Jack. ‘Thank you, chaplain,’ he began. ‘Firstly, I must apologize to you all, and in particular to Emma and Harry, for my intervention. I have spent the past few weeks wrestling with my conscience before coming to this unhappy decision. I could have taken the easy way out and simply found some excuse for not attending this ceremony today. I have remained silent until now in the hope that in time any objection would prove irrelevant. But sadly that has not proved to be the case, for Harry and Emma’s love for each other has in fact grown over the years, and not diminished, which is why it has become impossible for me to remain silent any longer.’
Everyone was so gripped by Old Jack’s words that only Elizabeth Barrington noticed her husband slip quietly out of the back door of the vestry.
‘Thank you, Captain Tarrant,’ said the Reverend Styler. ‘While I accept your intervention in good faith, I need to know what specific charges you bring against these two young people.’
‘I bring no charge against Harry or Emma, both of whom I love and admire, and believe to be as much in the dark as the rest of you. No, my charge is against Hugo Barrington, who has known for many years that there is a possibility that he is the father of both of these unfortunate children.’
A gasp went around the room as everyone tried to grasp the enormity of this statement. The chaplain said nothing until he was able to regain their attention. ‘Is there anyone present who can verify or refute Captain Tarrant’s claim?’
‘This can’t possibly be true,’ said Emma, still clinging on to Harry. ‘There must be some mistake. Surely my father can’t…’
That was the moment everyone became aware that the father of the bride was no longer among them. The chaplain turned his attention to Mrs Clifton, who was quietly sobbing.
‘I can’t deny Captain Tarrant’s fears,’ she said haltingly. It was some time before she continued. ‘I confess I did have a relationship with Mr Barrington on one occasion.’ She paused again. ‘Only once, but, unfortunately, it was just a few weeks before I married my husband – ’ she raised her head slowly – ‘so I have no way of knowing who Harry’s father is.’
‘I should point out to you all,’ said Old Jack, ‘that Hugo Barrington threatened Mrs Clifton on more than one occasion, should she ever reveal his dreadful secret.’
‘Mrs Clifton, may I be allowed to ask you a question?’ said Sir Walter gently.
Maisie nodded, although her head remained bowed.
‘Did your late husband suffer from colour-blindness?’
‘Not that I’m aware of,’ she said, barely loudly enough to be heard.
Sir Walter turned to Harry. ‘But I believe you do, my boy?’
‘Yes I do, sir,’ said Harry without hesitation. ‘Why is that of any importance?’
‘Because I am also colour-blind,’ said Sir Walter. ‘As are my son and grandson. It is a hereditary trait that has troubled our family for several generations.’
Harry took Emma in his arms. ‘I swear to you, my darling, I didn’t know anything about this.’
‘Of course you didn’t,’ said Elizabeth Barrington, speaking for the first time. ‘The only man who knew was my husband, and he didn’t have the courage to come forward and admit it. If he had, none of this need ever have happened. Father,’ she said, turning to Lord Harvey, ‘can I ask you to explain to our guests why the ceremony will not be continuing.’
Lord Harvey nodded. ‘Leave it to me, old gal,’ he said, touching her gently on the arm. ‘But what are you going to do?’
‘I’m going take my daughter as far away from this place as possible.’
‘I don’t want to go as far away as possible,’ Emma said, ‘unless it’s with Harry.’
‘I fear your father has left us with no choice,’ said Elizabeth, taking her gently by the arm. But Emma continued to cling on to Harry until he whispered, ‘I’m afraid your mother’s right, my darling. But one thing your father will never be able to do is stop me loving you, and if it takes the rest of my life, I’ll prove he’s not my father.’
‘Perhaps you’d prefer to leave by the rear entrance, Mrs Barrington,’ suggested the chaplain. Emma reluctantly released Harry and allowed her mother to take her away.
The chaplain led them out of the vestry and down a narrow corridor to a door that he was surprised to find unlocked. ‘May God go with you, my children,’ he said before letting them out.
Elizabeth accompanied her daughter around the outside of the church to the waiting Rolls-Royces. She ignored those members of the congregation who had strayed outside for some fresh air or to smoke a cigarette and now made no attempt to conceal their curiosity when they spotted the two women climbing unceremoniously into the back of the limousine.
Elizabeth had opened the door of the first Rolls and bundled her daughter into the back seat before the chauffeur spotted them. He had stationed himself by the great door as he hadn’t expected the bride and groom to appear for at least another half an hour, when a peal of bells would announce the marriage of Mr and Mrs Harry Clifton to the world. The moment the chauffeur heard the door slam, he stubbed out his cigarette, ran across to the car and jumped behind the wheel.
‘Take us back to the hotel,’ Elizabeth said.
Neither of them spoke again until they had reached the safety of their room. Emma lay sobbing on the bed while Elizabeth stroked her hair, the way she had when she was a child.
‘What am I going to do?’ cried Emma. ‘I can’t suddenly stop loving Harry.’
‘I’m sure you never will,’ said her mother, ‘but fate has decreed that you cannot be together until it can be proved who Harry’s father is.’ She continued to stroke her daughter’s hair, and thought she might even have fallen asleep, until Emma quietly added, ‘What will I tell my child when they ask who their father is?’
HARRY CLIFTON
1939-1940
48
The thing I remember most after Emma and her mother had left the church was how calm everyone appeared to be. No hysterics, no one fainted, there weren’t even any raised voices. A visitor might have been forgiven for not realizing how many people’s lives had just been irreparably damaged, even ruined. How very British, stiff upper lip and all that; no one willing to admit that their personal life had been shattered in the space of a single hour. Well, I have to admit, mine had.
I had stood in numbed silence as the different actors played out their roles. Old Jack had done no more or less than what he considered his duty, though the pallor of his skin and the deeply etched lines on his face suggested otherwise. He could have taken the easy way out and simply declined our invitation to the wedding, but Victoria Cross winners don’t walk away.
Elizabeth Barrington was cast from that metal which, when put to the test, proved she was the equal of any
