She patted her stomach. "I'm not all that hungry."
"Now, dear, you must eat something to keep your strength up. We have a lot of work ahead of us-" he stopped and shook his head. "I won't trouble you with such nonsense right now. You needn't worry about a thing. Everything will be better, you'll see. We've finally made it to the promised land."
He kissed her on the lips. A dry, yet familiar kiss.
Prudence stands at the makeshift altar, adjusting the fit of the white gown she finished sewing last night. "I don't know why you can't wear one of your regular dresses instead of some showy thing you'll never use again," Mother had said.
"It's my wedding, Mother. I want it to be special." Daddy had bought her the finest lace and ribbon in London for the dress. She now wonders if perhaps Mother is right and if it is too ostentatious even for her wedding. When else am I going to have this chance? she thinks and feels better.
She never thought this day would come. Most other girls in Wessenshire married or were at least betrothed by sixteen. At seventeen she hadn't received one gentleman caller. No one wanted her hand in marriage, as if they all knew. As if they could see through the layers of fat to what lay beneath. The unspeakable, horrible blemish on her soul. Because of it, she would end up dying a spinster like her Aunt Faith. Her entire life would be spent in the same house, in the same bedroom, growing bigger and bigger until she couldn't move.
He's here now, standing next to her before the hastily-erected altar. Like most girls in Wessenshire, she dreamed of getting married in old St. Michael's the former cathedral with its Gothic spires, arches, and gargoyles. She always imagined herself standing at the altar with some handsome prince or duke, the organ thundering with music. As she looks over at him, she doesn't mind that her childish fantasy will never come true.
He gives her a hint of a smile and whispers, "You look more beautiful than I imagined."
"Thank you," she whispers. Reverend Crane approaches the altar then to begin the ceremony. Prudence pays no attention to the reverend's words. She stares at Rodney, her beloved fiancée, soon to be her husband. She traces every curve and line of his face with her eyes, memorizing them. These will soon belong to her. Her husband.
She repeats the necessary words at the reverend's prompting to become Mrs. Rodney Gooddell. His wife. Rodney leans down to kiss her, a dry peck on the lips that to her is the most wonderful kiss. Her first. He takes her arm then to lead her away from the small crowd of family and friends gathered in the meadow. She can't believe it's happening at last. Her first steps as a married woman. All those girlish fantasies of princes and dukes riding up in carriages to sweep her off to a castle can't compare to the feel of his arm in hers, leading her away to a new life.