The Rector looked down from his impressive height into her homely but resolute countenance, and said stiffly, and after a moment’s pause: “In that event, ma’am, I am left with no alternative. I cannot perform the ceremony at this hour, but if you will have the goodness to show me the licence, I will marry you to my cousin tomorrow morning.”
A stricken silence greeted these words. Both ladies stood staring up at him. “L-licence?” Kitty faltered at last.
“The special licence to enable persons to be joined in wedlock without the calling of banns,” explained the Rector. “Surely, my dear Kitty, you were aware that this is necessary for what you propose I should do?”
“I have heard of special licences,” she said. “I didn’t know—I thought—Oh, what have I done? Hannah, I am so very sorry! I ought to have asked Freddy! He would have known! I have ruined everything!”
“It’s my blame,” said Miss Plymstock gruffly. “The thing is we’ve never had anything but banns in my family, and it slipped my mind.”
Kitty turned, laying a hand on the Rector’s arm. “Hugh, it can’t signify! You would not stick at such a trifle as that!”
“If you have not obtained the necessary licence, it is quite out of my power to perform the ceremony,” he said.
Lord Dolphinton, who had been trying to follow this, now joined the group by the window, plucking at Miss Plymstock’s sleeve, and demanding: “What’s this? Does he say I cannot be married? Is that what he says?”
“I am sorry, Foster, but unless you have with you a special licence it is impossible for me to marry you.”
His lordship uttered a moan of despair. Miss Plymstock drew his hand through her arm. “Don’t you fly into a pucker, my dear!” she said calmly. “We shall find a way to brush through it, don’t fear! We—”