85. Hermione and James's wedding

Hermione became Mrs James Barthomley in St George's Church, Mayfair, at fifteen minutes past eleven o'clock on a Thursday morning.

The morning had been a hurried flurry of bathing and dressing, as all of my sisters had pitched in to help Hermione achieve bridal perfection. She was bathed, and powdered, made up and dressed. She wore one of Helena's garters for something old, and the necklace that I had commissioned for her, for something new. A jewelled comb from Charlotte, that she wore in her hair was something borrowed, and a fine blue silk ribbon that bound her hair was the 'something blue'.

No time was wasted in all of this, but even so it seemed to be cutting it fine, until at a half hour past ten o'clock my mother and my sisters were taken by the landau the short drive to the church. Twenty minutes later, Barclay checked his pocket watch and gave me a firm nod. Hermione and I climbed into the brougham and set off for the church.

It would have been understandable if my sister had been nervous, after all, she had never been married before. But I could see no trace of nerves, no feelings of regret, she went forwards as if it was her destiny, and I could see once more the strength within her.

As we sat in the coach, she looked at me and smiled and said simply, "I love you."

There was so much that we could have said, and much that, perhaps, that we should have said, but most of it had already been said, so I replied, equally as simply, "And I will always love you."

And that was the only conversation on that short trip to the church, I rode with my thoughts and she with hers. For myself, I still couldn't shake the feeling that she could have done better, but I suppose that that was me being the protective older brother. Hermione had made her decision and I could only admire the commitment that she had made to it.

I was so proud of her, as proud as any father could be, of the girl that she had grown into. Not, I hasten to add that I was seeking to claim any credit for her being the woman that she was, far from it. But I thought - I hoped - that if I was ever a father to a daughter, that she would grow to be as strong as Hermione.

James and Lady Hermione Barthomley were married in front of a full church. On the bride's side there were many Rogeringhams - Hermione's immediate family, our near aunts, uncles and cousins, and a few of our friends and my sisters' admirers. The rest of the church - James's side - was filled with assorted Barthomleys and there appeared to be dozens of them, of all shapes and sizes.

Hermione and I progressed down the aisle towards James and his groomsman. Being on my sister's right hand as we went, I saw the whole pantheon of his family members, from his mother Eugenie, standing before me, dabbing at her eyes already, yet still with an exultant smile beneath her handkerchief to what appeared to be innumerable younger Barthomley relatives all clustered into the pews.

I delivered my sister to her soon-to-be-husband and when he looked at her, the look on his face convinced me that he was genuine in his feelings for her. He might be wrapped around Hermione's fingers, as Charlotte put it, but from his delighted smile, I believe that he was more than happy to be in that precise position.

'May The Good Lord keep you and preserve you, James', I thought, 'for what you are about to receive I hope that you are well and truly thankful'.

After the wedding we repaired the short distance to Rogeringham House, for the wedding breakfast. And it was there that I was cornered by Eugenie again.

I was just in my study for something, when Mrs Barthomley knocked on the door. I called her to come in, not knowing it was her. She approached me, her bosom leading the way and she stood quite close to me, ostensibly to thank me for my efforts with the wedding.

"You should thank my mother for this, she is the one who has organised it."

"I have, Your Grace," she told me, "However I wanted to thank you personally, you have been so accommodating, especially during the contract negotiations, I am sure it could have been much ... harder." She breathed that last word, leaning forwards as she did.

"Harder, Mrs Barthomley? I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Call me Eugenie, please Your Grace." She fluttered her fan rapidly and then folding it up, she laid it gently on the breast of my coat. Mrs Barthomley was making an unabashed attempt at some sort of seduction.

"Thank you, Eugenie, but please explain what you mean?"

"Only that there were many items in the contract, which I am sure were important, Your Grace," she added hastily, "But you were able to see your way to removing so many of them. I just wanted to show my gratitude - if I may?"

"There is no need Eugenie, all I have done is for the happy couple." I told her.

Eugenie pressed closer, much closer than might be considered socially acceptable. Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own, as if they wanted to reach out and touch me and she had no control over their movements.

"You have done so much, Your Grace. You have started them out on their journey in the very best way."

I was now looking down at her bosom, down into the chasm that made up her cleavage, and just at that moment, Helena entered my office.

"Mrs Barthomley?" My mother greeted her with a cautious smile.

"Your Grace." Mrs Barthomley answered, curtseying. "Your Grace." She said as she turned to me and curtseyed, before leaving.

It might be expected in a situation like that, she would have been embarrassed as she beat her retreat, but Eugenie Barthomley walked out with her head held high.

"Was that woman doing what I suspect she was doing?" Helena asked.

"I do believe she was, mother," I replied, "Not content with getting her son married to my sister, she seemed to be trying to engineer a tryst with me."

"I did not quite believe what you and Hermione said about her," she said with an amused smile. "I do now. The shameless baggage!" We both laughed.

It may appear that I am being quite dismissive of my new brother-in-law's family, I suppose that I am. The greater part of them are hangers-on and part-players, who will not contribute to the future's story, but who will instead live their lives and loves out as best they can and just that. But Eugenie Barthomley stands out as everything I suspected she is.

Calculating, audacious and brazen, she is obviously the power behind the Barthomley throne. Just her willingness to venture outside of her marriage was a sign of what she would do to further her ends. Did I think it was because she was attracted to me? No, it is my experience of women like that, that they rarely do anything like this without an ulterior motive. The only exception to that, of which I am aware, is Elizabeth Dorrington, who was in a position that she did not have to sleep with anyone to further her own ends - Elizabeth did it because she enjoyed it.

Hermione had joined herself into Eugenie's realm, but she was walking into her new situation with her eyes open, knowing what to expect. I suppose many brides do not have that luxury, and find themselves trapped and struggling to preserve themselves against a dominating parent. My sister had a head start with her clever marriage contract, and her strong will and sharp wit; she was fore-armed and forewarned, and that pleased me greatly.