I didn’t even think to ask about Mr. Harding’s son, the man I was marrying. What sort of curse was he under? One that made him hideous? Or insane? It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. I needn’t ask, for it didn’t matter. I would marry him no matter who or what he was. I would marry Mr. Harding himself, if need be. At least the son promised to be near my age.
We discussed details. We would be married the following Saturday, after dark. I didn’t even know if it was legal, but Kendra said she was registered as a celebrant. Many people, like my friend Dora, were getting married quickly during the war. I could do it too.
In the days leading up to the wedding, I thought even more about Phillip. I searched for him in every shop window, every doorway, every street corner. I saw his shape in the corner of my eye as I walked to the grocer or waited on the long queue at the butcher’s. He wasn’t there. I couldn’t bring myself to cry over him. We had only met once. I didn’t even know what I’d do if I found him. Would I give up my brother for a man I barely knew, whose face I had never seen? No. No. I wanted Jack, who had held my hand when I was frightened, Jack who had danced with me. Still, I felt as if I had lost something I would never again find. In a way, I just wanted to tell him, to say good-bye.
Finally, the day of my marriage was at hand. Kendra arrived after dark with Mr. Harding and the man. It was all done in secret. Only our families were there. My sisters were saying all the appropriate things about “poor sweet Grace” and my “sacrifice,” that they would have done it, but wasn’t I sweet. I wanted to go into my room and hide, but I couldn’t. I was the bride.
“Can I see Jack again?” I asked Kendra.
She nodded and handed me the mirror. I looked in the darkness. He was there. Seeing him strengthened me. He was cold, maybe sick. I had to help him. “All right.”
I felt like I was going to my own funeral. I wore my pink Patty Andrews dress, as there was no time to get anything else. All the silk was being used for parachutes anyway. It didn’t matter. The dress was my finest, for a wedding or a burial.
When the man entered, I held my breath. I couldn’t see him. We were to be married by candlelight. Mr. Harding had specified it. I could only make out bits of him, that he was tall, with broad shoulders. I hoped he was, at least, kind. I knew nothing of this man. He might kill me in my sleep.
I was doing this for Jack.
As we were standing, waiting to pronounce the words of our vows, I said shyly to the man who would be my husband, “Hello . . . I’m Grace.”
He said, “I know, Grace. I’ve been looking for so long . . . and now I’ve found you. I’ve finally found you.”
His voice sounded so familiar. I gasped. It couldn’t be.
In the darkness, he took my hand. “What’s the matter, Patty Andrews? Don’t you recognize me?”
“What?” It couldn’t be.
“Sir Percy Blakeney? The Scarlet Pimpernel?”
I must have fainted, for when I awakened, I was in my Phillip’s arms.
I still couldn’t make out his face in the shadows, but his sweet voice was whispering, “Grace? Grace? Are you all right, Grace? Will you . . . do you want to marry me?”
“Yes.” I felt tears spring to my eyes, tears of relief. “Yes, I want to marry you. But . . . you were looking for me? To break the curse?”
He shook his head, a shadow in the darkness. “Anyone could break the curse. I just thought . . . I wanted it to be you.”
And so we were married, and afterward, we tripped down the dark streets across town. It wasn’t safe, and we weren’t supposed to be out, but it was my wedding night. “My darling,” Phillip said, “I want to bring you to our home.”
When we reached the flat, it was dark, of course. Phillip picked me up in his strong arms and carried me across the threshold to our bedroom.
My mother had spoken to me that day about what would be expected of me as a wife. I’d been nervous, of course. I didn’t know this man! But, as he laid me down on the soft, cool feather bed, he said, “My darling . . . my lovely Grace. I don’t expect . . . I know you don’t know me, but can I kiss you? I have so longed to kiss you.”
I sighed. “Yes. Yes.”
He laid his lips against mine, finding them in the darkness. His mouth was soft and strong, and his hands were tender. He kissed my lips, my cheeks, even my hair. Then he enveloped me in his arms, and we fell asleep, entangled in each other’s embrace.
I still had not seen my beloved’s face. I didn’t mind. I didn’t care what he looked like.
I awoke in darkness. “No! No!” Someone was screaming.
“I can’t find them! I can’t find them!”
It was Phillip. He was flailing about like a frightened child.
“What’s wrong, my darling? Is there a bombing?” I listened for a second, for the telltale sound of air raid sirens in the distance, but all was silent except my husband, whose breath came in great gulps.
“No! Please! I have to save them!”
He must have been having a nightmare. I put my hands on his shoulders and shook him awake. “Phillip! Phillip, wake up!”
“What?”