Wedding

‘Marriage,’ said the registrar, addressing the bride and groom and assembled guests, ‘is an institution whereby a man and a woman can come together to create a family. It is a symbol of the woman’s obedience and faithfulness towards her husband, and her willingness to provide for him physically and emotionally, while he in turn provides for her financially and protects her from harm. The institution of marriage is as old as humanity, and is the foundation upon which we build the family unit and, by extension, our society. It represents order and tradition, but also devotion and fidelity.’

Charlotte stood before him, next to Will, in a long, white dress. It flared out at the waist, in a mass of chiffon and tulle, the white shifting ever so slightly in iridescent pinks. She wore a veil, fastened to her blonde hair, which was done up in an elaborate bun, with a fine, silver diadem. Will wore a black tuxedo and ocean blue bowtie. He looked very handsome, she thought.

The registrar continued, ‘Today, we are gathered here to see Charlotte and William joined in matrimony, so that they may start their journey and their lives together. And now, for the vows.’ He smiled. ‘First, the groom. Repeat after me. “I, William Philip Standley” . . .’

Will turned to face Charlotte, looking into her eyes, while he repeated the registrar’s words. ‘I, William Philip Standley, do take this woman, Charlotte Crowe, to be my lawfully wedded wife, and do swear before these witnesses to provide for her and our children for as long as she remains faithful and obedient to me.’

The registrar turned to Charlotte. ‘Please, repeat after me. “I, Charlotte Crowe” . . .’

Charlotte did as she was asked, repeating the words. ‘I, Charlotte Crowe, do gratefully accept this man, William Philip Standley, as my husband, and do swear before these witnesses to be obedient and perform my duties to him, and to honour him and his wishes, for as long as he will have me.’

‘The ring, please,’ said the registrar. Charlotte’s older brother, Francis, who was Will’s best man, stepped forward and handed him a small box. Most couples exchanged rings, but only the wife was required to wear one, and Will did not want to. Since neither his father nor Charlotte’s wore wedding rings, Charlotte had not argued the point.

Will slipped the ring onto her left ring finger, and the registrar said, ‘By the power vested in me by the Republic of England, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.’

It was a brief kiss, over too soon for Charlotte’s liking, but there would be plenty of time for kissing later, she supposed. Their assembled family and friends cheered and applauded. Charlotte smiled at her new husband. ‘I love you, Will,’ she said, and she had to wipe a tear from her cheek as she said it.

Will rolled his eyes at the display, but he looked pleased. He took her hand, and they walked out of the registrar’s office together. In the street outside, a self-driving limo waited to take them to the reception. When they were seated in it, Charlotte leaned over to kiss him again. He kissed her back, but pulled away quickly. He wasn’t a very physical person, she knew that.

When they arrived at the venue, the reception hall of the hotel where they would be spending their wedding night, a photographer whisked them away to take wedding photos. When they returned, the guests had all arrived and they were once again applauded as they walked inside the hall.

Their respective families were there almost at once. ‘Congratulations!’ said Charlotte’s father, before anyone else could speak. He wrung Will’s hand enthusiastically. ‘Thank you, Will, for taking our Charlotte otf our hands. I hope you’re very happy with her!’

‘Oh, he will be,’ said Will’s father sagely. ‘She’s a lovely girl. You’ve done an excellent job with her, John. She’ll make a good wife.’

‘I hope so, William. I do hope so.’ John ginned.

Will’s sister Emma, who was Charlotte’s maid of honour, kissed both her cheeks. ‘Congratulations! I’m so glad we’re sisters now!’

Charlotte smiled at her and hugged her. ‘So am I, Emma. And you too, Jane,’ she said, turning to the youngest Standley daughter, who was only seventeen, and who was also her bridesmaid. ‘You’ve both made me feel so welcome!’

Will was speaking to their fathers, but then he looked up and waved someone over. ‘Magnus!’

A tall, blonde man with sparkling blue eyes approached them. He wore a broad smile and shook Will’s hand. ‘Congratulations, mate. I’m happy for you.’

‘Everyone, this is Dr. Magnus Hemmingway. He’s Senator Holden Hemmingway’s son.’

How do you dos and pleased to meet yous were exchanged. ‘Hm.’ William Sr., shook Magnus’s hand. ‘Tory, eh?’

Magnus laughed. ‘Oh, I’m not very engaged in politics, Mr. Standley. I leave that to my father. I’m just a doctor.’

‘What sort of doctor?’ asked Miranda, Charlotte’s mother, then quickly glanced at her husband as she realised she had spoken out of turn. John did not appear bothered by it, however.

‘Oh, a general practitioner of sorts. I work in a medical research facility. Can’t really say more than that, I’m afraid.’ Magnus turned to Charlotte. ‘Will tells me you’re a journalist?’

‘Oh!’ Charlotte blushed. She found this man extremely attractive and it was making her a little flustered. He was clearly at least a nine, possibly even a ten, if he was a doctor in addition to being this gorgeous. ‘Of a sort. It’s just a blog, really.’

‘Didn’t you interview Alexa a few months ago?’

Charlotte noticed how Will stiffened next to her. He clearly didn’t want her to talk about that, but she didn’t want to offend Magnus either. ‘Yes, I did. She’s a lovely woman.’

‘Oh, I know. I know her quite well, both her and Bryce. I live in Cambridge so I visit them quite often. They’re both good people.’

‘They’re both so glamorous, aren’t they?’ Jane piped up. ‘I’m so jealous you met Alexa, Charlotte!’

‘Jane,’ said William Sr. His tone was calm and casual, but his younger daughter fell silent at once.

‘Come on, Jane,’ said Emma. ‘Let’s go get something to drink.’

‘Don’t let me catch either of you with alcohol,’ said William Sr.

‘Of course not, Father,’ said Emma demurely, and the two of them walked away, arm in arm.

‘I’m sure she won’t be writing that blog for much longer, now that he’s married,’ said John. ‘Eh, Charlotte?’

Charlotte was rescued just then by her friends Amalia and Linda, who came over to wish her happiness, and she was saved from having to continue her conversation about her blog and the Fitzsimmonses. She knew Will wasn’t especially fond of them, and neither, it seemed, was his father, whose expression had darkened at the mention of Bryce’s name.

Will put his hand on Magnus’s shoulder, grinning at him. ‘I’m so glad you came, mate. Thank you. Let’s go get a drink!’

Magnus smiled and obliged him. They walked away from the family group. ‘Your dad’s intense, isn’t he?’ Magnus remarked as they walked.

Will shrugged. ‘He’s a traditional man, just like I am.’

Magnus smirked. ‘Traditional. Right.’

They reached the table of champagne glasses, and Will picked up two, handing one to Magnus.

‘To you and your beautiful wife,’ said Magnus, still smirking. ‘May you have many beautiful children!’

Will scoffed, but clinked his glass against Magnus’s all the same, and they both drank. Then, since there was nobody else nearby, he leaned in and murmured, ‘If I’m gonna manage the baby-making bit tonight, I’m gonna need an appetiser.’

‘That so?’ said Magnus, raising an eyebrow.

‘Yeah. It may be a long time until I get to suck dick again, you know.’

Magnus cringed slightly. ‘Really? At your own wedding reception? That doesn’t really feel right to me, man.’

‘Aww, come on! It can be my wedding present.’

‘Already got you one of those. It was very expensive.’ Magnus smiled impishly.

‘Well, I’m not gonna beg. Just, think about it.’ Will pulled back again, having another sip of his drink. ‘Maybe after dinner, and once you’ve had a few more, you’ll consider it.’

*

Will kept the lights dimmed, and Charlotte began to get undressed. She tried to be as sexy as she could. The dress, though elaborate, had been made to be easy to get out of on one’s wedding night, and she shimmied out of it, folding it over the back of a chair, before taking off the veil.

He struggled to look at her, nervous now that he was in this position. For all his posturing about just closing his eyes and thinking of England, he dreaded this. All the champagne helped a little bit, but he was suddenly worried he wouldn’t be able to get it up at all.

Charlotte had now undressed down to her white, lacy bra and knickers, with matching suspenders and stockings. Nervously, she stepped up to Will and began to remove his clothes. She kissed his neck as she worked, but he didn’t really respond, just standing there, still and quiet, until she had undone his trousers and he stepped back to pull them off along with his socks. She kissed him, but he didn’t let it go on for long, instead grabbing her by the shoulder and pushing her to her knees. He pulled down his briefs, willing himself to get hard as he stroked himself. It worked, and he shut his eyes as she sucked him off, pretending she was someone else.

After a few moments, he pulled her to her feet again and, still not really looking, pushed her over to the bed and down onto it on her hands and knees. He pulled down her knickers and entered her from behind, staring resolutely at the painting of a sunset on the wall above the bed until he came with a grunt. He immediately pulled out and disappeared into the bathroom.

Charlotte stayed as she was for several seconds, staring down at the white sheets. A couple of tears dripped from her eyes onto it and she sniffed. Sitting, she pulled her knickers back on so she wouldn’t get cum on the sheet. She wiped her face, trying to stop herself from crying. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from her wedding night, but she had at least thought he would touch her. It had felt pretty good for a while, though.

She didn’t have a lot of experience with men, other than her First Time. She had dated a little bit when she first moved to London, but then she had started seeing Will, and he hadn’t wanted to have sex before they were married. As such, she had only had one other sexual partner, other than her First Time one. It had been better than this, and she immediately chastised herself for thinking it. She was married to Will now. They would have sex when and how he wanted it. She was his wife. Her pleasure was irrelevant.

She licked her lips, thinking back to her conversation with that man, Philip, at the café a couple of months ago.

‘We need your help. You have a platform, Ms. Crowe, and if used correctly, that platform could do a lot of good.’ Philip smiled.

‘What do you mean, used correctly?’

‘I represent a large organisation that wants . . . change. We have to work in secret, because what we have to say is considered dangerous and illegal. Like what you wrote in your article.’

‘But . . . I didn’t mean to write that. It was an accident.’

‘Well, you still wrote it. You must have meant it, at least in some way. And we need a platform. Don’t worry, we’re not asking you to write anything that would get you in trouble with the law. We’d simply like to use your blog to spread information. In code.’

‘Code?’

‘Yes. We would embed messages in the things you write. Ms. Crowe, we are working to create a world where no journalist will be arrested for writing something the government doesn’t like. We want to make a better world for everyone.’

Charlotte bit her lip and looked away. ‘And by better world, you mean . . . ?’

‘One where no one has to be afraid to be who they are. One where people are equal. One without a caste system, without male supremacy. A free country.’

Charlotte shook her head. ‘I don’t know who you think I am, Mr. Dugas, but I’m a traditional woman. I’m getting married soon, and I want to serve my husband. I want to be a good wife. I’m sorry, but I’ll have no part in whatever it is you’re up to, and if you don’t mind, I’d rather just forget we ever had this conversation.’

Philip smiled sadly. ‘Of course. My mistake. But, if you should change your mind, follow the instructions on this card.’ He handed her a small piece of cardboard. On it was a web address, and one word: spyglass. ‘Go there, write in that word, and we will contact you.’

That card was now in her wallet, where it had been since she had received it. She could have gone to the police with it, but then she had just been arrested at the time and contacting the police hadn’t seemed especially tempting. So she had just kept it.

Will returned from the bathroom, and Charlotte took his place. She showered, tried to clear her head. Philip had talked about equality; about freedom. About a better world. She had been taught her entire life that today, the day that had just been, was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, but it hadn’t been that. She had been happy when she kissed Will, after he put the ring on her finger, but it hadn’t lasted. She had barely seen him during the reception, other than at dinner and for the first dance. He had disappeared completely for at least half an hour. And now this. Her wedding night. It had not made her happy at all.

When she returned, she found Will in bed, watching the news.

‘At a press conference this morning,’ said the ancor, ‘Bryce Fitzsimmons announced his candidacy for the presidency with a moving speech about family values, with his wife, famous singer Alexa Fitzsimmons, by his side.’

It cut to Senator Fitzsimmons standing on a podium outside parliament. He was dressed in an immaculate, navy suit, and Alexa stood next to him, looking impeccable as always in a burgundy dress. ‘I want to continue to live in a world where a man can count on his wife to be loving and faithful, like Alexa has always been to me. I want to raise my children to believe in family and decency. Law and order. And I want men everywhere to know that they are powerful. It is we who rule the world, and so, for the sake of all men, for the sake of our sons, for the sake of our great country and maintaining the system that serves us so well, I am running for president of the Republic of England!’

Will’s face was stony. ‘Bastard!’ he hissed, before raising the remote and turning the television off. ‘That fucking bastard.’