Doctor Who_ The Adventures of Henrietta Street - Lawrence Miles [137]
There was, of course, something of a hubbub in the air when the guests shuffled into their positions (loosely, it’s got to be said) around the table. Awed silence wasn’t their style. Kemp quietened them all by slowly turning to face the entire congregation, then shouting: ‘If you buggers will give me a moment’s peace, I can get this over with.’
An unconventional start to an unconventional ceremony. In the vault, though, Scarlette’s red gown seemed nowhere near as odd as it might have done anywhere else. In the corner the local musicians had gathered, once again playing The World Turned Upside Down instead of a more traditional wedding march. It was a bitter-sweet choice of tune: the song had been the ‘theme’ of the American Revolution, the anthem of order overturned. Perhaps the Doctor himself had chosen it, reminding those assembled that a new order was being forged here, but at the same time reminding them of past failures (i.e. America). Mr Van Burgh can’t have complained. While the guests shuffled their feet and waited for the priest to begin his litany, the women of Henrietta Street stood at the rear of the vault and watched their feet, either too respectful or too nervous to look up. They were in House colours, but only because the invitations had requested it: they didn’t wear their uniforms. The clean-shaven man with the Whig rosette, at his space by the table, also kept his eyes low. Fitz and Anji are described as ‘waiting’ near the doorway, which suggests that they were reluctant to get any nearer to the table. One almost gets the impression of people who don’t want to be too close to an explosion.
As the priest Kemp cleared his throat and began to speak (one record insists that he spat out phlegm, but there’s no reason to take this seriously), the Doctor and Scarlette are said to have turned to each other and smiled. It was a genuine smile, say the observers, if a weak one. For the Doctor it was an acknowledgement that things were about to change, that despite everything the two of them could achieve what they’d set out to achieve. He was weak, he was pale, he was staggering, but he was still the Doctor. And for Scarlette it was a smile of true affection, even if it wasn’t the most heartfelt kind of love that bound them together.
There was no alchemy here, no peculiar witchcraft. It was an ordinary, straightforward ceremony. The Doctor and Scarlette tore their glances away from each other and obediently looked up at Kemp, waiting for the moment when they’d have to make their vows. The words ‘I do’ were spoken twice, without irony or drama or anxiety or pretension. They were simply spoken, as they had to be. And the guests watched in silence, at least until the priest asked the question which was always likely to cause embarrassment: whether any man or any woman knew any reason why these two should not be bound in lawful matrimony.
It was always going to be a sticking-point. There were so many present who might want to intervene, who could point out that the wedding wasn’t being performed quite in accordance to tradition or that the Doctor didn’t even exist according to the records of the British government. But Scarlette kept her eyes fixed firmly on the priest. There were no threats, no warning glances, not even any awkward throat-clearing. Nobody in the vault made any comment.
At least, not until the sound of opening doors drifted down from the Church above. The eyes of the guests, and the eyes of the red-and‐black bridesmaids, must surely have focused on the stairs as the footsteps were heard. Moments later, a new figure entered the vault. The very sight of him elicited a nervous mumble from the crowd.
It was, everybody immediately guessed, the Frenchman: the servant of Cagliostro who’d failed to materialise