A Wedding in Hampshire

“A toast! To the bride and groom,” the best man bellowed. A cacophony of clanging glasses and cheers of “Here, here” rang out through the hall.

           Henry and Elizabeth Wesley, the happy couple, beamed at one another, seated as they were at the head of the massive hall on the Wesley’s similarly massive Hampshire estate. The Wesleys were one of the wealthiest families in England and a regular feature of London society.

           As the feast began and the guests’ attentiveness gave way to an atmosphere of general revelry, Edmund, Henry’s younger brother, sat stoically at the far-left end of the bride and groom’s table, already deep in his glass of wine. He shot the occasional glance down the table at his jubilant brother and his beautiful new wife.

           I suppose everything’s come easy for him; why not this?

           A rotund man in his fifties approached Henry and Elizabeth. “Mr. Patterson, excellent to see you! We’re both ever grateful you could attend,” Henry said.

           “I wouldn’t have missed it! Your father would have my hide,” replied Mr. Patterson. Both men chuckled. After a pause, Mr. Patterson continued, “A promising young man such as yourself from a respectable family… We should speak about your future soon. I happen to know a local MP that will be stepping down next election and I can think of few others more suited to run in his place.”

           Henry and Elizabeth exchanged excited looks. “I would be honored to be considered by you and your colleagues for the seat. Father has always impressed the importance of a public career for me as future head of the family. I shall call upon you and your wife soon and we can discuss it further.”

           Why does everyone reward him?

           As the feast dragged on into the evening, the hall became warmer and merrier as more wine and spirits were brought up from the cellars. Edmund had drunk a fair amount himself (he had actually started an hour before the ceremony that morning) and his head was starting to swim in a hot glow. This, combined with the warm light from the candles and chandeliers, caused a thick and heady mist of intoxication seemingly to permeate the room.

           Edmund overheard the deep, authoritative voice of his father further down the table, closer to the bride and groom. “One more toast: to my son Henry, a lucky man and the greatest son a father could ask for.”

           Greatest…

           “He’s made us all proud, but none as proud as I on this happy day. Henry, Elizabeth, may your future together be long and joyful.”

           “Here, here!” answered the guests clustered around father and son. Edmund made a point to wait a moment longer than normal before taking another drink from his own glass.

           After some time, Edmund could not be sure how long, he slipped away from the table. Henry and his best man – a close friend of his from Oxford – were leaning in close to speak privately. Henry glanced up at Edmund as he departed, then resumed whispering, as if trying to banish the thought and sight of his younger brother.

           He never asked me to be the best man.

           Edmund made his way to the washroom to splash some water on his face in an attempt to clear his head and regain his senses. He gazed in the mirror. Edmund had a round, misshapen face that was higher and slightly protruded on one side. His eyes were ever so slightly different colors; people often didn’t immediately notice, but it gave his face an off look that never escaped new acquaintances. His hair was short, thin, and prematurely graying. In essence, “homely” was something of an understatement. Henry, on the other hand, had always been the most dashing boy in any circle he frequented.

           Edmund reached into his coat pocket and removed a small phial. It was brass, inlaid with a floral pattern, and had a cap over its mouth. One could not see the contents from without.

           When Edmund returned to the hall, the tables and food had been cleared away to make room for music and dancing. Henry and Elizabeth had apparently just begun a most mesmerizing waltz. The bride’s dress flowed and fluttered to the movements, which took on an almost otherworldly appearance in the dimly lit hall.

           After the first dance, more couples joined in, and the night sank into ever greater depths of joy and merriment. Edmund, however, found himself alone, milling about one of the tables pushed against the walls, laden with fine wines, liqueurs, sweet fruits, and confections. Edmund had had quite a lot to drink, but alcohol rarely dulled his mind overmuch, and certainly didn’t distract him from the torrent of thoughts racing through his mind.

           Edmund grabbed a knife from the table to cut a slice of one of the many cakes laid out. Before he could, Henry came up from behind and clasped Edmund on the shoulder.

           “Isn’t she stunning, Edmund?” he said, gazing back at Elizabeth. “Can’t think of what I did to deserve her.”

           “Indeed…” replied Edmund in a deadpan.

           “Though I’m certainly ready for the festivities to end and for the ‘wedding night’ to begin, eh?” said Henry in a jocular fashion.

           Edmund made no reply.

           “Ah, I promise I shan’t go on about it. I know you’ve been a bit bereft of feminine company,” Henry said with a knowing, ironic smile.

           Edmund still had the knife in his hand.

           Henry nudged Edmund playfully in the side a little harder than he would have were he sober. Edmund gave a slightly pained smile, which hid his clenched, grinding teeth. Henry then jaunted off merrily to join a group of his schoolmates from Oxford.

           Before Edmund could turn back to the table, Elizabeth approached him. Edmund and Elizabeth had known each other since childhood; her family lived close and Edmund had remained at home when Henry had been sent to London for schooling. This gave them ample time in their adolescence to cross paths and strike up a friendship of sorts.

           “There you are! I was looking for you earlier,” said Elizabeth.

           Edmund’s heart skipped a beat. “I needed to get a bit of fresh air, sorry,” he replied.

           “Don’t apologize, Eddy! Come dance, this is a great waltz!”

           Before he could object, Elizabeth grabbed his hand and hauled him to the center of the room. As the music picked up, Edmund struggled to match the ease with which Elizabeth flowed into the dance. Edmund panicked inside as he attempted with every effort to avoid crushing Elizabeth’s feet. Remembering the few dance lessons his mother had given him, he gingerly placed his hand at her hip and the two began to whirl awkwardly around the room.

           I should not have had so much to drink…

           After a few moments, it was clear that Edmund was at a loss. He had never learned to dance as well as Henry as his parents didn’t see the point in investing the time and energy – or the money for an instructor – for their youngest.

           Sensing Edmund’s difficulty, Elizabeth leaned in. “Let me lead,” she whispered with a sly smile.

           Edmund felt himself go red at being this close to her. Slowly, they changed the positioning of their arms and Elizabeth began to dominate. Edmund gradually began to relax. Moving in a crowd as they were, and with plenty of chatter and drink still sloshing about, hardly anyone would notice that Elizabeth was leading.

           Memories of their shared childhood swam through Edmund’s mind. Remembering those times made him happy, and he smiled at Elizabeth, and she back. For a moment that seemed to last an hour, their eyes met and kept each other’s gaze as they stepped and twirled about. Suddenly, something caught and twisted Edmund’s foot, yanking him out of his daydream. He had strayed too far and hadn’t minded where he was, resulting in his foot catching on that of another dancer behind him.

           The next thing Edmund realized; he was on the ground. The dancing and the music had stopped and many of the guests were staring down at him, startled. The woman he had collided with had fallen to the floor as well and was grasping her ankle in pain. Elizabeth stood with her hands over her mouth.

           As Edmund recovered himself, a smattering of laughter could be heard from the side of the room - Henry and his Oxford friends. Edmund felt himself grow red hot under the countless piercing eyes.

           Stop staring at me! Stop laughing at me!

           He started over to the young woman he had injured, hand outstretched to help, but before he could reach her, her partner lifted her to her feet and escorted her away from the center of the hall. Edmund was left in the middle of everyone he knew, and the few he cared about, alone, in silence...

           After what felt like a lifetime, the musicians began to play again, ending Edmund’s agonizing horror. Elizabeth was pulled aside by a group of acquaintances and drawn into conversation, appearing to forget all about Edmund. His brother similarly had returned to some comedic banter with his former classmates.

           Edmund slinked back toward the table at the head of the hall where the family had sat during dinner. He glanced up and was horrified to see the gray, hard features of his father staring down at him. After being fully appraised by his all-seeing gaze, and as if being found wanting, his father departed with a huff.

           Always second, in every regard. Yes, it was always Henry who received your attention and love. You poured money, gifts, and opportunity on him, even though he squanders everything. Everyone simply loves him… Well… perhaps it’s time something changes…

           Edmund stepped out onto the back lawn for the rest of the evening, puffing on a cigar, thinking. He was always thinking, considering everything. He rarely smoked, but tonight was a special occasion, though not in the way everyone else thought.

           A few minutes later, his brother stumbled out of the house onto the porch where Edmund stood taking in the view of the family’s garden. Henry came up beside Edmund and leaned against the stone rail.

           “I-… is this where you’ve been hiding, Eddy? You scampered off quickly after that dance fiasco,” said Henry, slurring his speech slightly. Henry took a deep sip from the wine glass in his hand.

           Go on, drink…

           “I’d had enough. I needed to clear my head.”

           “You never know how to have fun. Always s-… sulking about. Shying away, especially from the ladies. I saw how you looked when you were dancing with Elizabeth. Don’t get any… *urp* untoward ideas.”

           You have no clue just what “untoward ideas” I have…

           Edmund smiled warmly and placed his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Speaking of your bride, shouldn’t you be with her now?” asked Edmund, hoping to rid himself of his brother’s company.

           Henry stared at Edmund for a moment, almost as if suspecting something. But not quite. Henry gave Edmund a wide, toothy grin and slapped him on the back.

           “Right you are! How could I forget? You always had a sharp memory.”

           I remember it all… everything.

           Henry downed the remaining wine from his glass before setting off inside, swaying as he walked. Edmund watched him go in silence, his expression mute. When Henry had disappeared inside, Edmund descended the stone steps down into the garden. He strolled leisurely to a small pond at the center of the garden, which was ringed by rows of hedges. He remembered when they were children, he and Henry used to play here often. Memories came flooding through Edmund’s mind, including the many times he had served as “entertainment” for Henry and his friends.

           Fitting that this is where I’d end up… I suppose it all ends here…

           He took a long draw on his cigar and looked up into the flawless night sky. The stars of a clear summer evening were mingling with the faintest hint of predawn light on the horizon. He let the cigar fall to the ground and stamped it out forcefully, then reached inside his coat pocket. In his hand, he held the little brass phial with the cap and inlaid floral pattern, whose contents couldn’t be seen from without. He removed the cap.

           Empty, to the last drop.

           He thought back on all the drinking his brother had done that evening and how he’d downed his glass on the patio.

           Too much, they might say come morning…

           Edmund smiled, softly at first, and then deeper and deeper. Deeper than he could ever remember smiling. His teeth were bared and bright in the dark predawn.

           He threw the empty phial in the pond, wheeled about, and started back towards the house, a spring in his step and the future on his mind.