"We must take you home sooner, rather than later, Love," Mrs Roper said gently.

Sprawled over the bed, staring at the wall, Verity said nothing. It was now April, and she knew all too well that she should be returning home and preparing for her confinement. She knew the innkeeper did not like her staying there, for a woman so obviously pregnant might run her into all sorts of difficulty, such as the mess of childbirth. She knew that Lord Albroke did not like her staying there, though he had not sent any word of it. That was something she simply knew.

Yet she could not bring herself to leave. Though she had sworn she would have nothing to do with the Armigers, and had kept that promise, she could not bring herself to remove herself from the village where her husband lay dying. She had some mad notion that he must either die and release her from her vigil, or get better and rescue her. She knew in her heart that the second would not come true, and hoped that the first would not.

If she left, and something went wrong, she might not arrive back in time, or be able to travel so far. No. She could not. She had to stay until certainty came.

Mrs Roper had given up persuading Verity. She was at the window, looking out. "It's a nice day, though, perhaps we should- What is he doing here?"

"Who?" For a moment, Verity's heart lifted, and then constricted in fear. She scrambled up from the bed and peered out the window.

Richard Armiger, cane in hand, was crossing the street towards the inn.

"Something has happened." Her heart was racing. "He is coming for us. Where is my shawl? I am not dressed."

There was a hustle to wrap the shawl around Verity's shoulders and force her feet into slippers before the knock came at the door. The inn servant spoke softly through it,

"Mrs Baker, a gentleman has called upon you."

"Please."

The door opened, and the servant came through and presented the card to Verity. She barely pretended to glance at it.

"I shall see him."

A moment later, Richard was shown in and before he had the chance to speak or even nod in greeting, Verity demanded,

"Is - Is he dead?"

"No. No, he's not." Richard glanced at the open door, and then at Mrs Roper. "I think we should all go somewhere else. We must talk and this is not the place. I have a carriage downstairs. Come with me."

"Where?" asked Mrs Roper. "Where are you taking her?"

"Nowhere, unless she wills, except for a ride. And you may come – should come, I think."

Verity took in the fretful line between Richard's eyebrows, and the tensing of his mouth. His eyes, when they rested on hers, seemed to be seeing instead something far in the distance.

"Can it not be hinted at here?" she asked. "You have had me rushing off on blind faith before – can you have faith in me, and tell me why, this time?"

For a moment, Richard's eyes did focus on her. He shook his head. "I don't know how to explain this. It's awful – it's a farce." He glanced out into the hallway, and then uneasily at the bed in the corner. He came closer to her, and said softly, near her ear, "Neil has developed a conviction. He remembers only that you were his lover, and pregnant with his child. I don't dare tell him any more than that. He is very fragile. He has the conviction that he must marry you before he dies."

Verity gave a short, nervous bark of laughter. "How -" She stopped, hearing footsteps outside. The maid passed by again, carrying a tray. "Yes, we should talk – elsewhere."

They went out into the street, and Richard led them to a plain closed coach, and helped Verity up into it. There was already a man inside, a stranger to her, plump, and slightly confused, wearing a hunting jacket and buckskins, with a black leather case between his knees. He nodded at her.

"Good day, Madam."

"This," said Richard, "Is Mr Charmers. Parson. Up at Oxford with me. Charmers, Miss Baker."

Charmers cleared his throat a little. "Very glad to make the acquaintance. Always liked Neil."

Verity looked at Richard suspiciously as they settled back in the seats and the coach rumbled away. "You brought a parson. I don't suppose you've got a marriage license in your back pocket too?"

"Yes, I do. It's your decision if we use it. That's why I need to talk."

"It is quite impossible!" The horror of the situation rose to Verity's chest. "He has lost his mind – you have all lost your minds! Even if I do marry him, annulment would only too easily follow – with cause, this time. Lord Landon, you can't be serious."

"You haven't been there! You haven't been there, every day, by his side, watching him shiver and burn with fever, and fret about Giulia, and you, and dying – you haven't-" Richard broke off and ran his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can tell you this – he is obsessed. He hates himself. He believes he seduced and abandoned you and nothing I can say will make him him believe any different. He believes that by marrying you, he can redeem himself. I couldn't refuse him. He gets this mad, black look in his eyes – he won't change his mind, he won't give up, when he has that look in his eyes."

"So you leave it to me to refuse him?" Verity leaned back against the seat and breathed deeply. "No. It is impossible. Your father will find out. He will destroy me."

"Not with any luck," Richard said persuasively. "Mr Charmers shall tell no one. I shan't, you shan't, Mrs Roper shan't. As for the special license, the Archbishop of Canterbury hates father. They were at Winchester together. He fagged for father. I think he will be pleased to keep it a secret for some time yet."

"Very good man, the old AB," Charmers protested. "Sure he was moved by the story. Sympathy for the – young lady."

Mrs Roper, sitting back in her corner of the carriage, shook her head. "The servants could not be deceived by the four of us going to his room."

"He's not in his room. I persuaded father to have him sent to the convent at Perlchester for the day. They've got a hospital there, and they've agreed to give us a private room for the hour. We're going there now, and at the very least you can tell Neil that you won't marry him, in person. You, he might believe."

"Oh." Verity felt her heart quicken at the thought of seeing him again. "Oh."

"It's the last time I shall be able to arrange any visit between you," Richard added. "It is too dangerous to bring you to the house, and there are no more excuses to bring him out of it, when he can barely walk."

"I understand. How far is Perlchester?"

"Not far. Less than an hour."

She had an hour to think it over. She squeezed herself further back into the corner of the seat. It was very cramped in the carriage, with all four of them. Neither Mrs Roper nor Mr Charmers were small to begin with, and Verity, in this late stage of pregnancy, was finding herself uncomfortably large, even when not in confined spaces. It was warm, too. Charmers fetched a handkerchief and swabbed his forehead every few minutes. Beads of sweat kept reappearing on it.

"It doesn't make me feel very comfortable," he complained. "A protestant clergyman giving a secret marriage ceremony in a catholic house? I wish it could be open."

"It can't be," Richard said firmly. "Though Miss Baker has not yet said either way."

They reached the convent not much later. It was smaller than Verity had expected: little more than a church with an attached abbey, in a state of renovation, set back from the road in a small village. A middle-aged woman in traditional catholic garb came out on the steps of the abbey as they arrived, and welcomed them. She appeared to know Richard and his purpose. There were no unnecessary questions or chatter as she led them through the chiselled stone walls of the abbey.

"He certainly is very sick," she said, in a low, slow voice, with the shadow of a foreign tongue to its vowels. "We have dosed him with a curative and given him barley soup. We have prayed. We will pray further. But if he lives or dies – it is up to him and God."

Verity, a lifelong if apathetic Anglican, found herself embarrassed by the nun and the surroundings. Charmers appeared likewise. Only Richard was able to say a polite if unenthusiastic murmur of gratitude.

Neil was not being housed in a communal nursing room, but in a little sitting room that was the abbess's own retreat and study, bundled on a recliner by the fire. When she saw him, once more the shock of how thin and old he looked made Verity's stomach drop. But he was awake, and sitting up, if still in a dressing gown over an open muslin shirt.

"Mr Brummel would not approve," he said wryly, seeing her face, "But I've got no suit."

"You are – everything I wished to see, as you are." But it was not the dressing gown, but the gaunt hollows and lines of his face. She wished to see him, as he was, and yet it hurt. It dawned on Verity that she was still in her morning gown, with a shawl hastily thrown over, and had given only the briefest attention to her hair that morning. It had not seemed to matter until she saw Neil.

The nun came into the room only for long enough to press a hand to Neil's forehead, nod to herself, and remove the tray that contained his empty plates. "If you have need of me, Lord Landon, you may step down the hall at any time. If you do not, we shall lend you this room until shortly before Vespers."

"Thank you," Verity managed, awkwardly. "Thank you for helping us."

The gaze the nun returned her may have had a tinge of superiority to it, but only a tinge. Verity wondered how much of the truth Richard had told the nuns - and how much of it would remain secret. Briefly, the nun nodded, and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Verity sat down on the chair next to Neil. She still hadn't decided what to do.

"You didn't abandon me," she said. "It was all a horrible accident – with the ship."

He gave her a weak attempt at a smile. "Shall you try to persuade me I did not seduce you next? Your figure belies that argument."

"I was willing party to the seduction," she said, very quietly, because it seemed a horribly indecent thing to say in a convent. "Does that make it easier?"

"A little."

"We don't have much time," Richard reminded them. "Miss Baker?"

Verity looked down upon Neil. She still did not know what was best. She had broken her agreement with Lord Albroke just by coming here. If he knew that, there was no telling what he might do to her. But she wasn't afraid of him right now. There was no time for fear. She drank in the sight of Neil – battered as he was. Perhaps sensing her emotions, he reached up a bony hand to touch hers.

"If you are concerned, I am quite, quite in my own mind today. The past few days I have been wonderfully sane. It shall leave me, I am sure, but I am quite conscious of what we are doing. Now, Miss Baker, will you marry me?"

"Why do you want to marry me?"

"Because it's the only thing I can do. I can't get better. I can't bestow a fortune on you. I can't even remember who you are – beyond one thing, which I am quite sure is true. You loved me."

"Love," she corrected gently. "I love you." But perhaps it wasn't the truth. If nouns could have past tenses, she thought bitterly, that would be the phrase: she loved the Neil who had been; the Neil who was now commanded her heart, not by love, but by sorrow.

His gaunt face was twitching with some half-realized emotion. "Then I have twice the reason. Marry me, Miss Baker."

She gave in, then, more because she thought it might make him happy than for any real hope of her own security. She nodded, silently, and realizing he needed a proper answer, managed,

"Yes. Yes. I will."

Mr Charmers cleared his throat again. "I don't suppose you've got a ring?"

It was the one thing nobody had thought of, but Verity still wore the modest garnet ring Neil had given her the first time they had married, and she tugged it from her finger. "Yes. This will do. You gave it to me once," she added, seeing Neil stare uncomprehendingly at it. "Do you remember?"

"No. Not at all. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for."

The parson took the ring, and set his black case up on the abbess's desk. From it, he removed a prayer book, and his parish registry.

Neil smiled past Verity, at Mrs Roper, who was hanging back, some reluctance on her face.

"It has been many years, Mrs Roper – I was fifteen when we last met. I did not recognize you at first."

"No, love." Mrs Roper bowed her head a moment. "You have merely forgotten me too – I was with you these past – nearly three years now."

Neil's face fell. "I – did not know."

"You were very kind to me."

For a moment, a smile quivered on Neil's face, before it faded. "That misfortunate ship," he cursed softly.

"I'd like to begin now," Mr Charmers said, coughing. "Ordinarily I'd ask you both to kneel, but I think in this case it might be best if you both sit down. There, on the chaise, that will do."

Neil shifted over, to give Verity some space. For a moment, she laughed at the absurdness of being married on a sofa, but then she swallowed it, and wiped her tears.

Charmers cleared his throat.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this – these - two, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony... I shall not speak so loudly, as the room is small. Perhaps check the door, Richard, I see it is ajar... Which is an honourable estate – shall I speak faster?"

"With fewer interruptions of yourself, perhaps," said Richard.

Charmers nodded. "Instituted by god in the time of man's innocence, signifying unto us..."

There were further interruptions. All of them came from the somehow nervous Charmers. He stumbled his way through the book of common prayer so haltingly that Verity wondered if he really was a parson, and not an actor or idiot Richard had convinced to play the part of one. But it must have been legitimate, for when it was over, he opened the book of Parish records, and all five of them signed their part in the deed. Neil's hand was shaking so much that his signature was just barely legible. Verity wrote after him, and Charmers closed the book.

"You're married," he said. "And I suppose we'd better get the groom back home sooner or later – he is very pale."

"We have until Vespers," Richard said. "And it is just on four now. Unless you wish to return, Neil?"

"I can stay a little longer." Neil fell back onto the recliner, and pulled the blanket closer over him. "It is more comfortable here than in the carriage. And I – I'd like to spend a little time with my – wife."

A heady thrill of nerves descended over Verity for a moment at the word. She smiled shyly at Neil. "I should like that."

"Oh." Something was going on behind Richard's yellow diamond eyes, some vague expression of hurt that surprised and confused Verity. But his usual guarded expression was in place a moment later. "Alone – I suppose."

Alone. Alone with the man she loved. She met Neil's eyes, and understood. He was giving her one hour of the few that remained of his life to say goodbye.

"Yes," Neil said. "Alone."

"We shall wait – somewhere," Richard said awkwardly. He and Mr Charmers left the room. Mrs Roper, with some frown on her face, hugged Neil tightly for several moments, and whispered something to him. Embarrassed of her own selfishness, and realizing that Mrs Roper too was grieving, Verity followed the men into the hall to give her some privacy.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Thank you, Mr Charmers, for performing the ceremony, and thank you, Lord -" She laughed. "Thank you, my brother." She took his hand, and pressed it softly.

Again, the faint hurt look came into Richard's eyes, and again, he conquered it, before she could understand it. He raised her hand a little, and bent over it, but did not kiss it.

~~

A/N: I can't be booooootheeered editing tonight. I feel lazy. So I didn't, but I don't think I misspelled anything too badly, or missed too many apostrophes.