She just wanted to get this whole bloody thing over with.
Sarah scratched her arms under the itchy fabric of her dress. She could understand why the War Office wanted her to get married, and she could even understand why it had to be done so quickly. But really, was such a grand affair necessary?
She stood at the back of Christ Church Greyfriars, surveying the domain. Her side of the church was pitifully empty, but what had she been expecting? Her tutors were there. Her voice and piano instructor. And her governess. Five people attending one’s wedding was better than no people.
However, the Earl of Stryden more than made up for the dearth of wedding guests. She wondered if they wouldn’t have to pop over to St. Paul’s to pack them all in. The wreath of orange blossoms on her head tilted again, and she shoved them back into place, pushing the lacy fabric of the veil off of her neck. She scratched where the material had irritated her skin.
Alec and Sarah were wed by order of the War Office. Although Alec was an earl, I wanted their wedding to take place in a far less auspicious place than St. Paul’s Cathedral. Known as Christ Church Greyfriars, it was situated opposite St. Paul’s on Newgate Street. Once a magnificent church, it was destroyed during the blitz in World War II. The ruins were remade into a public garden. To see a detailed account of the new public gardens which match some of the old floor plans of the church, visit Joanna Dobson’s blog. You can still see the old stone arches where I imagine Sarah giving Alec a piece of her mind.
It’s hard to imagine as an American what it is like to lose treasures of your heritage to war. For more on the blitz during World War II, check out Citizens of London.