Chapter 15

When they had all retired, Angelina packed her trunk, then prepared for bed and slipped under the sheets. She lay with eyes open and tried to grasp the change that had come over her life since she had risen in the morning. That Vetinari should have been in love with her all along seemed almost beyond belief. Of course, for a while he had spent more time with her than their professional relationship had warranted, and she had begun to think that there might be something, right up until the day he gave her the watch and she almost fell over her own feet with excitement. But then his manner had become so aloof, so cold. Surely he hadn't seriously believed she cared for Soulangi? What signals had she given him? Admittedly she had tried to conceal her regard, what else could she have done? It would have been better, perhaps, to be more encouraging, as Cassandra had hinted on occasions. But she had been too tentative. And, oh dear, that wretched meeting with the watch tucked into her dress. No wonder he had thought she didn't care. Maybe just sitting in her room waiting for him to come to her had not been sufficient on that occasion. And he had said he had suffered. Been anxious. The way she had shouted at him, told him to go away. It was unbearable.

After lying like this for about an hour, she got up and slipped out into the corridor. Noiselessly she descended the stair from her second storey apartment to the first floor, where her mother had prepared the guest room. She stood outside the room for some time and shivered while her feet were getting cold on the flagstone floor. The door would be locked, of course. It was a heavy solid oak door. Knocking might waken him up, but raise others, too. Eventually her brain recognized what her eyes had seen all the time. There was a faint glow from under the door. Gingerly she tried the handle. The door opened and she tiptoed in.

She saw the candle on the writing table and some paperwork – trust him! – but no sign of Vetinari. The bed was untouched. Then she felt her hand seized. He had been standing behind the door!

"You gave me a fright! Why did you hide behind the door?"

"Force of habit," he whispered and pulled her towards him. He leaned forwards and they stood with their hands locked, forehead to forehead, for some time until Angelina stopped trembling. Then she reached up and framed his face in her hands.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you. May I kiss you better?"

"Hmm. Are you sure you don't think it was all my fault?"

She shook her head.

"I didn't pay enough attention and I didn't think straight about how my behaviour would appear to you. And I ran away at least once too often."

Slowly, he smiled.

"Well, well. Kiss me then, if you must. However, I believe you are only supposed to come to my bedchamber after the wedding."

"I know," she replied, "But as you said, my lord, you and I do things slightly differently."

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"Angelina."

She opened her eyes.

"How can you sleep at a time like this?"

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My dearest Cassandra,

I do not know how to begin to tell you my news. I would like to relate the whole story in an orderly fashion, but am, well, too excited for that, and before I confuse you with my muddled account, let me assure you that all is well with me now. Things have all of a sudden turned around completely, and I am writing this from a coaching inn on my way back to Ankh-Morpork, where I am to marry Lord Vetinari! Please excuse the atrocious handwriting, I am writing at a bedside table, since obviously his lordship needs the desk for his really important work and, well, truth be told, my hands are still shaking every time I think of it. But I don't want to delay this letter any longer. You really ought to have been the first person to know, but of course as it was, Mama, Papa, Robert and Roxana were all in the house and were told straight away.

You see what a mess I am making of my report already. I shall muster some discipline and begin at the beginning. Two days ago Lord Vetinari arrived completely unexpectedly at Steventon, managing to coincide precisely with a point in time when I had been making myself more miserable than ever about my wretched affection for him. It seemed very unreal to see him there in my very home. He barely spoke to me and then suddenly asked me in the most freezing tone to marry him. I was totally perplexed, but then I thought there must be something twisted and political behind it, because it seemed clear from his manner that it was to be some kind of business deal. So I gave him an outright rejection and ran off to the library. You can imagine how upset and utterly furious I was.

The next thing I knew he was standing right in the middle of the room, and spoke to me in a very different way, explaining his regard for me. I didn't believe a word of it at first and I got quite angry with him and even shouted, but in the end there was no denying it: He has actually loved me for as long as I have loved him, more or less. He said it was a mystery to him how I had failed to notice it. Similar blindness on his side, though: He had assumed I didn't care about him. He had thought I was going out with that buffoon Soulangi! (Hmmm, that shows a severe misunderstanding of my character, don't you think, I'll have to tease him about that).

I asked him why he suddenly changed his behaviour after he had given me the watch and he said he had been angry with himself for acting so impulsively and felt he had completely given his game away without even getting a response from me. And there was me trying not to appear overenthusiastic. You had been quite right in saying it could be a disadvantage to be so very guarded. When I look back now, I understand how it has been: While he thought he was courting me, I thought he was checking up on me. While I thought I was being decorously restrained, he thought I was discouraging him. How ironic; if we had but understood each other's manners better, we could have saved ourselves almost a year of misery! Never mind, we're past that now.

Anyway, an hour later everybody in the house knew, was delighted etc, etc, and we spent the most charming evening together. He was utterly irresistible, I mean not just to me, but to everybody. Henrietta asked him if he was a prince come to carry me away on his horse! I must say, that rather accurately sums up how I feel: From pathetic waif to fairytale princess in one afternoon. Cassandra, he has given me the most sensational ring in the conceivable universe, though I think you will be the only other person who will quite appreciate it. It is – are you ready for this? – a grey-speckled Salsalite, very beautifully set in filigree gold, and it perfectly matches my eyes; it is even that little bit darker than the usual Salsalite. Having worn it for two days now I am beginning to think that the old superstition about its cosmetic prowess was not so ridiculous after all, for whenever I look into a mirror I see a radiant stranger. Of course, there might be other causes for this…

Oh, do you remember Lady Meserole? She was the one with the famous garden parties that we went to a couple of times when we were little. Just fancy, she is his lordship's aunt! We went to see her before we left Pseudopolis. Apparently they hadn't seen each other for years, but there was great cordiality between them, which pleased me very much. Lady Meserole is now in her seventies; yet you wouldn't believe it if you saw her. High spirits make people appear younger, I suppose. She insisted that I should call her Bobbi, but that is not likely to happen any time soon. I am still struggling to call his lordship "Havelock" to his face – it doesn't seem to matter how many times I have addressed him so in my mind. I'll really have to practise for the wedding.

Dearest, the wedding is on the 17th of Grune, and I believe Mr Drumknott is even now having gold-edged invitation cards printed. I hope we will be able to track down Felix in time. Needless to say I want you to be my maid of honour. Do you think I should ask Goldy and Tvoolia, too? Apparently it will all have to be very formal, but I am sure we Winters will be able to add a touch of cheerfulness to the occasion.

Write to me soon, my dear Cassandra, to tell me how surprised and delighted you are, and don't forget to address your letter to the Patrician's Palace, where I will now be installed in complete and utter bliss. (Yes, it's sickening, I know, but when would I ever be allowed to use such language if not now?) I am sending you all my love that I can spare at this moment!

Yours ever

Lina

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It was a windy late afternoon when the Patrician's carriage finally rattled over the cobbles of Ankh-Morpork again. Here and there, people pointed at it. Lord Vetinari peered out of the window and took in the familiar sights. Angelina was slumped against his shoulder, sleeping. He smiled and ran a finger down her cheek. For five days they had been confined to this little chamber hurtling down the highway, and he couldn't have borne it in the company of anybody else, but they had both been quite contented, alternating between animated conversations and comfortable silences. Now, at last, they were back in the city and all was well, at least for a given value of "well". There was a spectacular traffic pile-up in Phedre Road and an angry mob outside the Dysk. Oh, and an assortment of kitchenware that was for some unfathomable reason perched on the hippo statues on the Brass Bridge. But otherwise the city seemed unruffled. No doubt there would be work to be done soon. It would be a pleasure. Everything would be a pleasure again.

"Wake up, we are home," he said to her when they pulled into the coach yard of the Palace. As soon as the carriage stopped, the door was flung open and a host of servants began to busy themselves around the horses and luggage. Curious faces were huddled in the doorway and by the windows, for rumour had spread that the Patrician was bringing home his bride. Vetinari stepped out and took a deep breath of air. Around him, people were bobbing and bowing. Then an expectant hush fell as he turned back towards the carriage and held out his hand. Angelina took it and gingerly set her foot onto the ground.

"Good heavens, it's Miss Winter!" cried Mrs Reynolds, the cook, and a general cheer arose. People in the windows were nudging each other and grinning. Suddenly Mr Drumknott was beside them. He seized Vetinari's hand and shook it eagerly.

"Well done, my lord," he said.

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Fairytale

Wedding

Charms City

Patrician Lord Vetinari marries in public display of splendour.

At three o'clock yesterday afternoon Lord Vetinari officially ended almost five decades of bachelorhood. His lordship (49) married Miss Angelina Winter (36) in a magnificent ceremony in the Unseen University Great Hall.

State representatives from all over the Disc joined Ankh-Morpork's dignitaries at an event truly worthy of the city's status and heritage.

The guests assembled from the early afternoon onwards in the University grounds, where they were welcomed by Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully (76), who acted as Master of Ceremony.

Among the invited were the Seriph of Klatch, the Patrician of Pseudopolis and the Low King of the Dwarves. King Verence II of Lancre (38), who attended the wedding with his charming wife Queen Magrat (32), told The Times: "We are delighted to be here today. Our own wedding was a much more modest affair, but we are happy to give Ankh-Morpork precedence."

At ten to three the 800 official guests and a much greater number of spectators saw the open carriage with the bridal couple arrive at the University gates. The Patrician, dressed in a stately ensemble of black velvet with silver trimmings, alighted first and handed his bride out of the carriage. Miss Winter wore a long-sleeved dress of cream coloured silk, the skirt and neckline embroidered with a peacock feather motif.

The couple were greeted by a fanfare of fifty trumpets and the palace guard in full dress uniform. As many as two hundred blue and white banners lined the path from the University Gates to the Great Hall, where the bride's brother, Felix Winter (38) performed Fondel's Allegro Vivace in G on the University organ. The bridesmaids, Miss Tvoolia Hingh (27), Miss Goldy Jorgensson (93) and the bride's sister Miss Cassandra Winter (34), wore pastel blue and carried bouquets of pale yellow roses. Miss Hingh, a close friend of the bride, will soon be

Full colour photo coverage on page 3

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Well, they are happy for now. Who knows what will befall them? It could be that...

...after three years of marriage Angelina leaves Vetinari when she discovers his continuing affair with Dame Gina Dulci. He barely blinks. Angelina moves back to Pseudopolis, where she becomes a member of the city council and eventually marries Chas Fawler. Or maybe...

...the Vetinaris adapt admirably to their married life and in due time Angelina is delivered of twin girls Roberta and Penelope. Vetinari is so smitten with his daughters that he abandons politics. The family retires to Quirm. Susan Sto Helit becomes Patrician of Ankh-Morpork. But then again maybe...

...Vetinari is assassinated shortly after the wedding. Ankh-Morpork falls into chaos. Angelina joins forces with Vimes in an attempt to hunt down the perpetrator. This involves her in an Odyssey that eventually leads to Brindisi, where she dies of Cholera. Or perhaps...

...the Vetinaris spend a Honeymoon weekend at Limonum. During a sailing trip their vessel is catastrophically swept out to sea, where they manage to survive thanks to an unexpected rain of tinned carrots and several rains of rain. Nearly dead they land weeks later on the be Trobi Islands. Only the devoted care of the be Trobi people sees them through. Their convalescence is a happy and peaceful time. However, travel arrangements for a return to Ankh-Morpork prove to be difficult and eight months go by before they arrive back in the City, where Lord Rust has become Patrician. With the support of Sir Samuel and Lady Sybil Vimes, Rosie Palm and Moist Von Lipwig, the Vetinaris embark on a cunning campaign to get Havelock back into power. Or possibly...

...the new Lady Vetinari gains great popularity in the city and provides an inexhaustible source of human interest stories for the Ankh-Morpork Times. This is a useful smokescreen for Vetinari, who finds as much comfort in Angelina's company as he had expected. The marriage is highly successful, though childless, and Vetinari remains in office until the age of seventy-six, when he and his wife are killed in a freak explosion at the Opera House.

Which scenario would the Vetinaris prefer? Which one do you prefer? Let the Trousers of Time split and there will be a place for all of them and more.

The End

Thanks for reading. If you have enjoyed this story, you might also like the sequel The Vetissey.