The New Year came and went without the Hamms making any moves. Waiting for them to reveal their plan wore on my nerves. The winter social scene was wonderfully quiet. There was more time for reading, writing, and other hobbies. I saw Henry, Regina, Fred, and other friends a few times a week, but in much less formal situations. Henry still acted smitten with me and was making fewer efforts to hide it from those around us. The days I could sit in my suite reading books or writing in my diary were bliss. I missed being a poor humble graduate student who couldn't go out every day.
Whenever I saw Regina, she spoke endlessly about her impending nuptials to Mr. Fred Baxter. Her excitement was contagious. As March drew closer, I began counting the days until the wedding. She shared all the details with me. Her wedding dress would be white like Queen Victoria's, of course. The maid of honor and best man were the bride and groom's younger siblings. The wedding would take place in a charming Anglican chapel, and the reception would be at a hotel across the street.
March 12, 1874, the day of the wedding, arrived. It was a morning wedding, which Uncle Cunningham told me was the norm. Weddings had to be before noon. The ceremony was followed by a reception at the home of a relative. This wedding had so many guests they decided to rent a ballroom instead. If it was going to be in a ballroom, there might as well be dancing. It might have been unusual, but I was looking forward to it. Uncle Cunningham told me all about weddings as we ate breakfast that morning, bombarding me with a dizzying amount of etiquette. I tried to remember everything he told me, but it was impossible. I decided I was better off imitating everyone around me.
We departed our home at 10:30, wearing our best wedding attire. Uncle Cunningham sported a fine morning suit complete with a gray vest and black top hat. I chose to wear a dress of dark lilac with a lighter ruffled underskirt and matching hat. The gathering of the bustle was ridiculous, but fashion seemed to be moving in that direction, much to my dismay. When we arrived at the church, I saw what I expected. Large bunches of flowers hung off of each pew and rich fabric draped between them. The decorations fit the occasion. The union of Fred and Regina was a beautiful occasion that deserved a bit of pomp and circumstance.
I had been to my share of weddings in my day. As the service began, I noticed not much had changed. Yes, the clothes, speech, and a line or two in the vows changed over the decades, but all the important things were there. When Regina and her father walked down the aisle, she looked radiant, and Fred looked over the moon as she walked toward him. Their happiness grew as the ceremony progressed, and when the vicar pronounced them man and wife, their joy washed over the guests. Fred and Regina didn't kiss, which I found disappointing. Heaven forbid a married couple kiss. Uncle said it was unthinkable to even speak of kissing among others. They didn't seem to mind, though.
On our way to the reception, Uncle Cunningham reminded me that I had to say "congratulations" to Fred, and "best wishes" to Regina. I didn't understand the reason he gave, but it seemed important to him. It had something to do with congratulating Fred because Regina accepted and telling Regina you hoped she chose well. The distinction seemed arbitrary, but a lot of things in the Victorian era were.
Uncle Cunningham and I were placed at a table with the Stowe family and someone's second cousin once removed. The lunch passed with interesting conversation and ample laughter. The Hamms sat near the front of the reception room with the rest of the couple's family. I didn't have to talk to Henry until the dancing portion of the afternoon began. The music started, and it wasn't long before I saw Henry making his way to me. I groaned.
"Be brave, my dear," whispered Mr. Cunningham. He patted my arm encouragingly.
"Do I gotta?" I was enjoying myself, and pretending to flirt with Henry would dampen my mood.
"Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?" he said, returning his voice to its usual volume and smiling cheerfully around the table.
Henry was almost upon us, so I smiled happily and replied to Mr. Cunningham through my teeth. "Because I hope the answer will change."
Henry arrived and extended his hand to me. "May I have this dance?"
That damn misty look was back in his eye. I wished it would go away. His charm was almost disarming. The only shelter from it was the knowledge that he was acting.
"Of course, Mr. Hamm," I replied.
Mr. Cunningham gave me one last encouraging pat as I rose. Only then did I realize that I didn't know how to dance to the song. I told Henry, but he assured me it was simple. He was as good a dancer as I remembered. Even though I had no idea what I was doing, I didn't miss a single step. Only a few other couples knew this dance because the floor was nearly deserted. I felt peoples' eyes upon me. I looked at the other guests. At the Hamms' ball, many of them had watched us dance looking intrigued. Now several of the ladies seemed jealous. Henry favored me, and everyone knew it. A Hamm marriage was a prize everyone believed I was after. I wished I could tell them Henry revolted me ninety-nine percent of the time, but, alas, I could not. I looked back into Henry's eyes, his expression still handsomely disturbing.
He smiled gently. "What are you thinking about?"
How was I supposed to answer that? You, my darling? I resisted the urge to be snarky and said instead, "I was marveling at your dancing ability, Mr. Hamm. You are one of the best I've ever danced with. I don't even have to think about what I am doing."
"Call me Henry, please," he said as he spun me. "It feels strange to be so formal when I feel like I have known you all my life."
"Thank you, Henry," I smiled at him. Then, realizing that the formality should be returned, I added, "You may call me Rebecca. You know I don't put much stock in formality."
Being on a first-name basis with Henry was a significant development. The move towards familiarity could mean they would make a play soon, revealing their primary goal. I prayed that was the case because this hurry-up-and-wait business was getting old. As the song ended, I made a mental note to tell Uncle Cunningham the news. It would have to wait for later because he was escorting Lady Thomas onto the dance floor. Henry walked me back to my seat and promised to return later. I watched him go.
Evidently, I forgot to stop smiling because Margaret Stowe got a knowing look in her eye. "I think I know whose wedding is going to be next."
My smile dropped immediately. "What?"
Margaret looked like she was going to bubble over with excitement. Her parents smiled coyly, knowing what she was about to say. "Oh, come now, everyone knows Henry is taken with you, and you are not inclined to dissuade him if you catch my meaning."
Oh, I caught her meaning, alright. I stared at her wide-eyed as my brain analyzed the information and groped for a pithy comeback. I felt like a fool for not realizing that other people would notice the back-and-forth between Henry and me. They would believe it was genuine. I had to squash the intense desire to tell everyone how much I despised Henry. Margaret and her parents were still smiling as they waited for my reply.
After all my searching for something witty, all I managed was a hollow, "Huh?"
Mrs. Stowe chimed in before her now giggling daughter. She was more dignified than Margaret, but I could tell her daughter got her bubbly nature from her. "Miss Walton, everyone sees it. There is no use denying it. Word is that Mr. Henry Hamm is falling in love with you. A rather distasteful betting pool has sprung up around when he will propose to you."
While she spoke, I took a casual sip of my drink. When she got to the proposal portion, I almost choked. Sputtering, I looked at my table mates. All four of them nodded in agreement, even the second cousin I had never met.
"What do you say to that?" giggled Margaret, barely able to contain herself.
I laughed in what I hoped was a casual manner. Inside, my guts were roiling. "My opinion on the matter will do little to sway others."
Thankfully, Dennis Reynolds asked Margaret to dance. Her parents, being proper and respectful, did not continue discussing my love life. I made a mental note to tell Mr. Cunningham how well his plan was working. The rest of the reception passed without incident. After the happy couple departed, the reception broke up.
We weren't averse to walking home, so Uncle Cunningham and I decided to forgo the throng waiting for carriages. I put my right arm in his left, and we set off. As we walked, we discussed and laughed about having everyone convinced I was head over heels for Henry. Personally uncomfortable though their belief was, it would help convince the Hamms we were hooked. Uncle Cunningham was far more interested in my news that Henry and I were now on a first-name basis.
"My dear, this is wonderful! They are bound to drop their guard soon. With any luck, we will be done with this mess swiftly."
"God, I hope so. The sooner everybody knows I'm not a gold digger, the better."
As we neared home, we ducked down our usual alley shortcut. Most people in our class wouldn't be caught dead in an alley. Boxes and trash dotted the way. It didn't smell fantastic, and we had to dodge the small puddles of mysterious liquid, but Uncle and I didn't care. We had been down this short alley dozens of times without incident. Today would prove different. A large burly man emerged from behind a stack of crates and raised a revolver in our direction.
We froze. My heart beat at a mile a minute. The man moved towards us. Uncle Cunningham moved his cane to his left hand, which still held tight to my arm.
Raising his right hand towards his jacket pocket, Uncle Cunningham said, "There is no need for violence. I'll part with my wallet willingly, sir."
The brute smirked. "I ain't after your money, old man."
He cocked the revolver. I felt my uncle tense up. The gunman had made the mistake of moving closer to us. Without thinking, I grabbed Uncle Cunningham's cane and broke free of his grip. With all my might, I flung the cane at the man's outstretched arm. Bang. The gun fired as it flew from his hand. I propelled my weapon toward the assailant again, striking him upside his head. He groaned but didn't fall. While he struggled to center himself, I slid my grip up the cane and rammed the end of it up into his jaw. He crumpled like a rag doll.
I laughed nervously, standing over the unconscious man. The thrill of victory coursed through me.
"And my mom said rape aggression defense class was a poor choice for my P.E. credit. Not exactly what they taught me, but hot damn! Did you see that Uncle Cunningham?" I turned to where I thought he should be, and I screamed. "Uncle!"