The Five-Minute Marriage by Joan Aiken

had been wondering to herself what reason Mr. Fitzjohn would give for having some stranger perform the mock ceremony; she was impressed by his power of invention, for up till now she had put Fitzjohn down as a decidedly sober and prosaic person. The Bishop of Bengal—good heavens! And no doubt, once the ceremony was over, he would conveniently return to Bengal again.
    Mr. Fitzjohn now turned and made the introductions between the clergyman, herself, and Mr. Penistone.
    “ How do you do, Your Grace? ” said Delphie with a slight curtsy. “ I hope you are enjoying your visit to this country? ”
    “ T h ank you, my child. Unfortunately this chilly spell has given me a severe cold, ” the apparent bishop replied, blowing his nose and sneezing several times. “ I am afraid it is but a hoarse blessing that I shall be able to pronounce over you. And I think it as well if we perform the ceremony without delay. I have no wish to add to his lordship ’ s troubles by giving him my cold. ”
    “ No indeed, ” agreed Delphie. “ That would be the outside of enough. ”
    Mr. Penistone threw her a sardonic glance, but said nothing.
    “ Have you the license, Mr. Fitzjo h n? ” inquired the bishop.
    “ Certainly, sir; here it is. ”
    The bishop scanned the paper that Fitzjohn handed him, apparently found it in order, and handed it back.
    He then, without more ado, pulled a prayer book out of a pocket in his robe and proceeded to read the marriage service.
    Delphie listened in a kind of wondering calm. When the priest reached that formidable adjuration: If any man can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, she felt both sadness and guilt. How do we dare fool that poor old sinner on the bed with such a mockery as this? she thought. And when the final exhortation came: Let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace, she half expected some voice, perhaps from above the bed valance, to cry, I do! It is all a false deceit. I do!
    But no such interruption occurred.
    At the point where the ring was called for, she wondered fleetingly if this necessity had been remembered; but apparently it had; Mr. Penistone produced a gold ring from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to the pretended bishop, who gave it an approving glance and passed it back. Next moment it was on Delphie ’ s finger.
    “ I now pronounce you man and wife, ” said His Grace, and added, “ You may kiss your bride. ”
    Philadelphia coolly inclined her cheek; Mr. Penistone slightly touched it with his lips; their eyes met for a brief moment.
    Lord Bollington ’ s chamber was now in profound silence; the rapping in the shadows had died away during the short ceremony.
    “ Are they tied up? ” demanded the old man, opening his eyes, which had been shut while the service was going on. “ Are they properly shackled? ”
    “ They are, sir; tight as holy church can make them, ” replied the bishop.
    Jenny stepped forward, threw her arms round Delphie in a warm hug, and gave her a smacking kiss. Her eyes sparkled, but she still did not dare speak.
    “ Very good! Then get out of my room, the whole pack of you! ” declared Lord Bollington when the witnesses had signed their names, Mr. Fitzjohn acting as the second. “ I do not wish to see any of you again. But let Fidd come in with a decanter of brandy, and send that lawyer fellow the very minute he has finished his scratching and scribing. I’ ll need witnesses for my will, too, ” he added, recollecting. “ The servants won ’ t do—they are all mentioned in the will. The doctor ’ s assistant can be one. And you, sir ” —to the pretended bishop— ” you can be the other. ”
    “ Indeed, Lord Bollington, I think it best—considering my cold — that I do not remain in your presence, if you will be so good as to excuse me, ” said the bishop.
    Lord Bollington muttered some words, among which “ devilish awkward disobliging shovel-faced fellow ” could be