A Marriage of True Minds: Part II

by Vestige of Femininity

In hindsight, I realize that once Mycroft's views made us aware that we would have to marry in some conventional manner to appease society's norms, we should have dashed out to the Register's Office and bribed whatever official available to change some wording and 'done the deed.' Since this did not occur to me (or to Holmes, for that matter - I did not have to take all the responsibility here) until after we had already invited Mrs. Hudson, Watson and now Mycroft to share in the ceremony, our hands were tied. I suppose if we were really dead set against the whole thing we would have just said the hell with everyone and done just that. However, we persevered and came up with a rather quiet but interesting little compromise of a wedding ceremony. However, the day was not to be without mishap.

It began calmly enough. I was getting dressed in a modest but, I thought, becoming frock of blue silk with matching cloche hat. The buttons, to my annoyance, were proving to be difficult, as they were very small faux pearl and at the back of the dress. A familiar double tap at the door announced Holmes' entrance.

Without turning around I said, "Ah, just in time, oh husband-to-be. Could you do these blasted buttons for me?"

His long elegant fingers made quick work of the things and I thought, here's one advantage to sharing quarters with him that I had not thought of before. I turned around to face a tall, handsome gentleman in a dashing dark gray suit and snowy white shirt. I looked him up and down and smiled, "You're very appealing in that suit, Holmes." I leaned on his lapels as I demonstrated my appreciation.

There came much "Harumping" and other clearing of the throat sounds from outside the open door, followed by Mycroft's voice saying, "Sherlock, Russell, the motorcar is waiting downstairs."

Holmes cleared his own throat, "We'll be down directly, Mycroft."

As I went about seeing to the last of my toilette, Holmes leaned against the highboy and remarked, "Knowing you as I do, Russell, I find it most intriguing that you have managed to control your impatience with the dealings of these past few days. I would have expected you to be in a right proper foul mood by this time." These last words were emphasized with the rolling r's and lilting accent of a true Scotsman.

I thought about this as I combed my hair, "Yes, I suppose I have been unusually tolerant. I'm not certain why this is so. However, I might say the same of you, Holmes."

He actually looked a little sheepish as he said, "Ah yes, well. Seeing as how my 'family' has played a not inconsiderable role in these events, I feel my wisest course of action is to keep my mouth shut."

I donned my gloves and hat, picked up my bag and examined myself with some satisfaction in the mirror. To his reflection I quoted, "'To be wise, and love, exceeds man's might.'"

He pushed himself off from the highboy and gallantly tucked my gloved hand under his arm, "A wise man himself, was our Mr. Shakespeare." He inclined his head, "Shall we?"

We arrived at the Register's Office to find Watson and Mrs. Hudson already waiting for us in the corridor outside the office door. As Watson spoke with Holmes and Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson and I kissed and embraced. She said, "Mary, my child, I am so happy for you and Mr. Holmes. And I am so pleased to be part of this day!" She pressed something into my hand and said, "I knew that you would not fuss with some of the more traditional superstitions of weddings but I thought, seeing as how you are marrying our Mr. Holmes," she surpressed a chuckle, "you probably could do with all the help you can get!"

I laughed and looked down into my hand to see a frilly blue garter. She said, "I took the chance that you would have the 'something old' (which I see you have)" she looked down at my shoes, "but I thought I'd better bring the 'something new, something borrowed' in blue (although I see by your lovely frock that you are wearing the color already)." I could not help but laugh again. Leave it to Mrs. Hudson to think of these things - and so efficiently. But what was I supposed to do with this, here and now? Sensing my question, Mrs. Hudson pointed down the hall and said, "There's a lavatory just there."

Well, what could I do? She was being my stand-in mother as she had been to me numerous occasions in the past. I simply couldn't refuse her. I sighed, somewhat irritated but resigned once again. 'Patience, Russell, patience!' I thought to myself as I hurried into the lavatory, 'just a couple of hours more and this whole affair will be done with.' Not exactly the most sentimental thought to have on one's wedding day but one which I'm sure my husband-to-be shared.

After pulling on the garter I did what most females do when presented with a mirror. I straightened my hat, applied some lipstick and checked out my dress. The whole inspection took probably less than two minutes. However, when I emerged into the corridor once more, none of my 'wedding party' were in sight. The door to the magistrate's office was ajar, which I took to mean that the magistrate had arrived and all were gathered waiting for me (I didn't think they could start without the bride).

As I made my way towards the door I heard two voices coming from around the bend in the corridor, one of which I recognized as Holmes and the other, although familiar, I could not immediately place. I could not hear what was being said but I could make out the unmistakable tone of Holmes' cold anger. Coming closer I heard him say slowly with utter loathing dripping from every word, "Madame, you are not welcome here. Leave now of your own accord or I will throw you out myself."

Then I heard and recognized the other voice. It made my skin crawl in a way that no criminal or villain of my increasing experience in Holmes' or my own cases could or ever would. My obnoxious aunt had come back to haunt me. I turned the corner to see Holmes at his most intimidating, towering over her diminutive frame. Judging by her stance she was not in the least affected by his verbal or his body language (the Klein women were not intimidated easily, I had to note). My first instinct at the sight of her loathsome face came from my hands. The urge to place them around her scrawny neck and throttle the life out of her was overpowering. However, I marshaled my emotions just in time to see an even half dozen males and one female bustle down the hall towards us, pads of paper in hand and pencils at the ready. I uttered an oath as Holmes turned and pushed my aunt into an empty office.

I followed, slammed and locked the door behind us and said to Holmes, "I thought Mycroft was taking care of the press?"

"I believe you may find that your beloved aunt is connected to this delightful little surprise," he replied with heavy sarcasm.

I looked at her sly, smiling face and said, "What the bloody hell are you doing here and what is the meaning of this? I thought I made it very clear that I want nothing more to do with you."

"Mary dear, don't be that way," she said, all sweetness and honey, "I heard through some friends that you were marrying Mr. Holmes today (I do have my little sources) and I just had to come and wish you and the good gentleman the very best and let bygones be bygones."

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, "You and seven of your closest journalistic friends. How sweet."

"Yes, well, I did mention it to a few people. Why just the other day I was speaking with Lord and Lady Stanford (at one of their little dinner parties) and Mr. Holmes' name came up in regard to his recent heroics in disposing of that dreadful character, Franklin something, I believe. Well of course I had to mention that my dear sister's daughter was soon to wed the great man -"

Her game was becoming clear. I said, in my sweetest sarcastic tone of voice, "Ah, auntie dear. Doing a bit of social climbing these days, are we? Suddenly Holmes' name has an appealing cachet for you, is that it?" I dropped the pretense, "If you think you can trade on your tenuous relationship here, you have learned nothing about me in all these years."

"But Mary darling, we are blood. I took you in when your dear family died so tragically. I gave you my help and guidance during those difficult years -"

That urge to throttle her was getting stronger. "Took me in? Gave me help and guidance? You gave me nothing but grief and abuse!"

"I just wanted to -" she was starting to whine.

"You just wanted to get your name in the papers associated with Sherlock Holmes to impress your newfound society friends." I shook my head in wonder at the utter gaul of the woman. "You have harassed and mistreated me from the day we moved to Sussex. You practically starved me into submitting to your will. And to top it all off you embezzled from me and my family's fortune. And now you show up and want to be part of my life so you can further your social ambitions.You stupid, ridiculous woman. Let me tell you now, you will not benefit in any way from this."

As I was speaking I noticed Holmes open the door surreptitiously to investigate the muffled sounds that were emanating from the corridor. "Holmes' brother Mycroft will see that none of this appears in any papers with or without your name. If I am not mistaken, I think you will find that your journalistic friends have been bustled away already by some helpful constables," I looked at Holmes and he nodded. "So you see, you are out of luck once again."

She looked at me then, all her 'sweetness' spent. Her usual pinched expression of spite and malice had returned, "You wretched, ungrateful bitch! I don't care if you have my accounts investigated. I put up with you and your superior attitude for six years. I took what was rightfully mine." She turned on Holmes, "You may have the papers silenced for a time but I will have my revenge one day. One day Fleet Street will not be so intimidated by that high and mighty brother of yours and I will tell them things that will make their toes curl."

Holmes moved to my side and took my elbow. He said to her in that bored manner that he does so well, "Madame, your tirade grows tiresome and we have an appointment. Come, Russell."

We moved towards the door but she blocked our way. "I will tell them about the 'great Sherlock Holmes' and his so called 'apprentice.' Hah! How many times had you been climbing in through this little slut's bedroom window? Ah, I see I have your attention now! Yes, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I saw you. And that was the one time I happen to notice. God knows how many times that was repeated when I wasn't around. And what went on in that cottage of yours when that Hudson woman wasn't there, eh? You know," she smiled spitefully as she was gearing up to play her trump card, "it wouldn't surprise me that you have to get married this day!"

You have to understand that this woman had lived in my house for more than six years and I put up with this kind of invective as a matter of course. I escaped a lot of it by simply spending as much time as I could at Holmes' cottage or when older, going up to Oxford. To me this little speech was just another diatribe in her endless repertoire. Holmes, however, apart from what I told him in the past had had no real contact with her before this, so he was experiencing her at her vindictive best here for the first time. His face darkened and I could see his jaw spasm. The muscles of his arm were contracting and I knew that in another second he would strike her. I, myself have been provoked to do the same in the past.

I put both hands on his tensed arm and looked into those cold, steel gray eyes. In response, the muscles beneath my fingers relaxed and he said, as if we had had a lengthy discussion (which, in our own way, we had), "Indeed, Russell. You have a point." I said evenly and calmly to my aunt, who I could tell, while not intimidated, was definitely taken aback by the force of Holmes' anger, "Never, ever, contact either of us again, understood?" She was left sputtering ineffectually as we swept out of the room.

Before we stepped inside the door to the magistrate's office I stopped, closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths to put these last few minutes out of my head. Holmes regarded me with a raised eyebrow. He knew without asking that my hesitation was to do with putting my past, in the form of my aunt, behind me and not with facing my future. Wordlessly he inclined his head to ask my readiness. I replied by squaring my shoulders and giving him one confident nod. He opened the door and we walked through.

After the events of the past few weeks the ceremony itself was a little anticlimactic. However, since the whole month had been rather eventful (some would say to the extreme), a small quiet gathering to exchange vows in this modest office seemed nicely unpretentious and rather soothing. Of course there were some points of interest even here.

Mycroft's magistrate was very accommodating to our rather odd observance. But then, being a friend of Mycroft's must surely prepare one for some odd requests. The ceremony devised was one that contained nods to feminist, Christian and Jewish tradition. Feminism, so I could stomach the whole affair, Jewish tradition because, frankly, the rite made more sense and Christian because I thought that I could only press my luck just so far with the indulgence of the system, no matter how accommodating Mycroft's friend was.

It began with the usual "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here before these witnesses to join this man and this woman in marriage. If anyone here knows of any impediments to this marriage they are required to speak now." At this, I half expected my aunt to burst in. Fortunately, it was met with complete silence.

"Do you, Sherlock Holmes, take this woman, Mary Judith Russell, to be your lawfully wedded wife; wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Of course, at times like these I have the tendency to giggle. I don't know what it is about solemn occasions that brings this out in me. I know it's terribly childish. But when I noticed that all three of my names were declared but only two of Holmes were mentioned I couldn't help but speculate what that middle one was. I thought, it must be a truly interesting moniker if he would not allow it mentioned here. A few possibilities went through my mind and I must have hiccupped or made some noise because Holmes scowled at me after he said the requisite "I will."

As the magistrate was saying "Do you Mary Judith Russell," I made a mental note to find out what the name was (maybe the registry of births? Just ask Mycroft?) and composed myself enough to take in what was being said. "Take this man, Sherlock Holmes, to be your lawfully wedded husband; wilt thou love him, comfort him, honour and keep him in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, as long as ye both shall live?" There was no mention of 'obey' anywhere, I noted with satisfaction. I said, "I will."

He turned again to Holmes and said quietly, "Take the bride's hand and say the following." Then he had him repeat the words, "I, Sherlock Holmes, take thee, Mary Judith Russell, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part."

As he said this he looked into my eyes with an intensity that shook me to my soul. Any levity that I may have felt up to that point was gone as he held my gaze and said those words. I thought, not for the first time, that this was not the cold, thinking machine of Watson's chronicles. This was a burning, passionate man who - yes, it can be said, - who loved me, and had by his own admission, done so for some time. It was a very heady thing to be loved. To know that this man, who rarely gave away any part of himself to anyone in his life, was now pledging his love, his life, to me, Mary Russell. Yes, very heady indeed and not a little overwhelming.

When my own turn came to say the words, I too, held his gaze and tried to imbue into them what I was feeling. While we both knew our union would be a challenge and we would never have the easy, careless affection of some couples, I wanted my words to convey that these gifts that he gave to me this day would not be taken lightly. I wanted him to know that his love and his life would always be very dear to me.

When the time for the ring came, Holmes took his mother's ring from his pocket and repeated after the magistrate the words, "With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow." And he placed it on my right index finger, which in the Jewish tradition is the finger of intelligence (since in the actual rite it is the finger that the bride uses to follow along in her reading of the Torah). I had to give Mycroft's friend credit, he did not even bat an eye during this but continued on with, "By the power invested in me by the laws of the county of London , I now pronounce you man-"

At this, we both simultaneously shot him a look of warning that brought him up short. He recovered quickly and said, "husband and wife." Then he looked at Holmes and said, "You may now kiss the bride." With a hint of a smile, he did so, embarrassingly well (Will he always have this effect on my knees, I wondered). At some level of consciousness during this, I was aware of a few discreet sniffles coming from the direction of Mrs. Hudson and a loud honking noise from Watson.

As we faced the magistrate again, he smiled at us and said, "Congratulations to you both." I noticed he did not say, "Congratulations to you, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes." Really, this friend of Mycroft's was a real gem. He shook our hands then and of course there was much more of the same from all present.

I must confess here that while I started out this week with reluctance and some sense of apprehension about weddings in general, I came to realize that there is something to be said for declaring one's love and devotion for one's life partner in this way. Maybe I was getting sentimental in my majority, but it seemed to me that while we probably would have been content to live together quietly with our own private commitment to each other, pledging ourselves before family and friends somehow made the whole thing more substantial and conferred upon it its rightful importance in our lives. As I say, I probably was being sentimental and Holmes would no doubt make some sarcastic remark confirming this. However, I never gave him the chance because I never told him these thoughts, at least not then.

The rather early dinner at Simpson's, necessitated by our ship's departure that night, was delicious and the conversation lively and entertaining. Watson was the only one who was in somewhat of a sentimental mood and tended towards reminiscing. However, Holmes was having nothing to do with this and whenever Watson veered towards the maudlin, he deftly turned the conversation around until he had his friend in fits of laughter. Mycroft regaled us with stories of his various disastrous chefs through the years and some of their more inedible fares. Even Mrs. Hudson gave us an hilarious account of the antics of her precocious grandchildren. All in all, I thought, this was definitely the best part of the whole day...

On our arrival at the ship's dock, I asked Holmes for the envelope that Mycroft had slipped him before we got into the taxi outside the restaurant. I thought I might go to our stateroom and skim through the documents that I knew were contained there. I counted on at least an hour to myself to find out more about our assignment before seeing Holmes again, since I knew he would be anxious to be off exploring the ship and meeting its crew.

The room, or I should say the suite, was rather grand for my tastes and decorated a little heavy handedly in brocades and velvets. I deposited my coat and bag on a chair and comfortably propped myself up on the downy bed amid a multitude of pillows and cushions. I was only half way through Mycroft's package when I heard the door open and Holmes entered. I did not look up until I perceived a brandy snifter held out to me by my newly designated husband.

"Prevention of seasickness, Holmes?"

He smiled at that, sat in the chair near the bed and stretched out his long legs, "Indeed, Russell. There is a distinct feeling of déjà vu about this, is there not?" He held up his heavy lead crystal glass, "Although, Captain Jones never did aspire to this level of decadence." He looked around the room, "Or bad taste."

He sipped and indicated the papers which were now strewn over the bed, "What have you learned?"

"I have learned many things. One of which is the fact that we will be spending at least some time in Milan, for which I am very grateful since I had planned on at least one night there." I emerged from my pillows to get my bag.

He was regarding me with one questioning eyebrow. I very rarely get to surprise Holmes in any way, but in this case I thought I might just have hit upon something. I removed the telegram from my bag and passed it to him. I crossed my arms and watched him in some amusement as he frowned at me, put his snifter down and unfolded the paper. It was most gratifying to see those eyebrows rise in pure delight as he read:

"TWO TICKETS RESERVED REOPENING TEATRA ALLA SCALLA PERFORMANCE VERDI'S "FALSTAFF" FOR M. RUSSELL STOP PICK UP DATE MARCH 5 STOP"

"Hah! Excellent, Russell! I had read about the renovations. I did not think they would be completed so soon. And the maestro?"

"None other than Signor Toscanini himself," I said with some flourish. It had not been easy or cheap to get these tickets but it was worth it to see his obvious excited anticipation. I was reveling in my little coup.

"Thank you very much! A lovely gesture," the familiar sardonic smile was back again, "especially considering the last time we attended an opera together you spent it snoring into my collar."

I was too pleased with myself and Holmes' initial surprise to be put off by this wisecrack. I merely said to him, "The husband who insults his bride on their wedding night is bound to spend it on the cold and windy deck."

"Ah, that will never do." He held up one long finger, "Speaking of wedding nights and presents, I have a little something for you as well." He rose and went into the other room where our baggage was standing, waiting to be unpacked.

"Holmes, this was never meant to be a wedding present," I protested to his retreating back.

His voice trailed after him, "Not to worry Russell. It is just a trifle that I saw and thought you might like."

He returned with a small rectangular shaped package wrapped in brown paper. He handed it to me and I looked into his amused eyes and then down again at the package. This slight hesitation caused him to remark, "It's quite alright, Russell. It does not tick."

I removed the wrapping to find a beautiful, leather bound "Hebrew Bible," the title in Hebrew with gold lettering. I noted the edition and knew this was definitely not a mere trifle. I smiled and said with some considerable awe, "Holmes, this is truly handsome. A real treasure." I was fingering the cover, feeling the soft leather and enjoying the sheer pleasure of holding such a lovely edition of a book that meant a great deal to me, when I opened it to the fly leaf. The surface therein was covered in Holmes' cramped, careful writing of a Shakespearean sonnet. I read aloud:

"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out ev'n to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

H.

Feb 18, 1921

In truth, I don't think I read the closing couplet properly because I could not see through the tears that came to my eyes. This truly was a treasure. Since the lump in my throat was causing some problems, I had to demonstrate my appreciation in a nonverbal manner. As a matter a fact, there was a great deal of nonverbal appreciation demonstrated all around that night. So much so that I must revise my earlier statement and declare unequivocally that the wedding dinner came only a distant second to the wedding night for being the best part of that day. And certainly for entertainment value, it positively paled in comparison.