Marigold Chain by Stella Riley

So
we won’t be disappointed.’ The blurred voice was faintly
bitter.
    ‘ But you
should think about what you’re doing! You can’t want to be married
– not just like that, anyway! And --’
    ‘ I won
your hand – and that I shall have,’ said Alex doggedly. ‘I don’t
ask you to love me.’
    Chloë viewed
this demonstration of unexpected lucidity with resentment.
    ‘ I know
that – but I prefer to wait. Perhaps,’ she added cunningly, ‘I may
marry you tomorrow.’
    ‘ No.
Tonight.’
    ‘ But –
even if were possible – it’s ridiculous. You’re drunk!’
    ‘ Frequently, darling.’
    ‘ And
tomorrow you’ll feel differently.’
    ‘ So?’ His
face assumed an expression of total obstinacy. ‘Don’t argue. You
can’t run off with me then refuse to marry me. It isn’t
done.’
    ‘ Quite
right,’ said Danny, re-entering the lists. ‘Ought to get married
right away.’
    ‘ If you
can,’ added Freddy, faint but pursuing.
    ‘ You are
all as bad as each other,’ announced Chloë crossly. ‘You can’t wake
a priest at this time of night and expect him to marry
you.’
    ‘ Watch
me,’ grinned Alex. And then, meticulously, ‘And I’m not going to
marry a priest. I’m going to marry you.’
    Danny dissolved
into a fit of giggles and communicated them to Freddy. Alex
remained, swaying slightly, his eyes fixed on his proposed
bride.
    ‘ Well,
aren’t I?’ he asked with a particularly charming smile.
    Something
recognised, but as yet totally uncomprehended stirred inside Chloë
as she met those quizzical silver-blue eyes … and, swept for a
moment to a realm way beyond common sense, she gave way to it.
    ‘ Yes. It
would seem that you are. But it would still be best to wait till
--’
    ‘ No, it
wouldn’t,’ laughed Alex, sweeping her along with him. ‘Now – who
knows where we can find a parson?’
    Freddy thought.
‘Chaplain – St John’s College,’ he offered.
    ‘ Excellent. Lead on – we follow.’
    So, not without
difficulty, the little party made its way across St John’s Gardens,
led by Mr Iverson. Progress was both slow and noisy and Chloë felt
very doubtful that all three gentlemen would retain their senses
long enough to arrive at their destination – which, in her opinion,
would probably be a good thing.
    However, her
hopes were dashed when they all came safely to the Reverend
Morland’s little house. And then the fun really began for, when
their imperious hammering brought no result, they started
clamouring and hallooing up at the windows. Chloë perched
resignedly on the edge of a water-butt and decided she had lost her
senses to be there at all.
    Eventually a
light showed at an upper window which was then thrown up to
disclose a night-capped head.
    ‘ What the
– what is going on?’ demanded a thin, querulous voice.
    ‘ Come
down and find out,’ invited Mr Deveril.
    ‘ I will
do nothing of the kind! What do you mean by waking me at this hour?
Is someone dying?’
    ‘ Not that
I know of. I want to get married.’
    ‘ You what ?’ spluttered
the cleric.
    ‘ I want
to get married,’ repeated Alex obligingly. ‘Come down.’
    ‘ I most
certainly will not. You’re drunk, sir!’
    ‘ I know.
Ah well, if you won’t come down – I’ll have to come up.’ And so
saying, he seized the thick creeper which enveloped the house and
began to climb.
    Chloë decided
that it was time to intervene.
    ‘ Mr
Deveril – if you break your neck you won’t be able to marry
anyone.’
    Alex peered
down from a couple of yards up.
    ‘ I’m
quite safe.’ Hanging one with one hand, he took his hat off and
tossed it to her. Then he started to climb again, accompanied by a
duet of advice from below and recrimination from above.
    He had almost
reached the window when there was a sharp crack as a branch snapped
under his foot. ‘Damn!’ he said cheerfully. There was a scuffling
sound as he searched for a new foothold and found it. Then he was
nose to nose with the Reverend