The Runaway Bride: A Tale of Escape

The first time I ever set foot at a wedding was the day the bride fled. Had someone told me such a tale, I might have dismissed it as a fanciful rumor, something you only see on the silver screen. Yet life, as it often does, served up a rather extraordinary episode, and I have been recalling it in the years since.

It was not my own wedding I wasnt even invited. My friend Lucy Baker was meant to attend with her husband Tom Collins, a distant cousin of the groom. The evening before the ceremony Lucy was rushed to StBartholomews Hospital with a sudden illness, leaving Tom to go alone. Lucy was uneasy about travelling without a companion, especially with a crowd of single ladies about.

She spun a wild yarn in her mind: What if a flirtatious aunt swoops in, or a sudden pregnancy claim surfaces? Ill be left standing by the altar! She swore, halfjoking, that she would not be left to her own devices. I dont trust any man these days, she declared. The supply of decent gentlemen is short one will not do! Tom, looking despondent, confessed he had hoped to enjoy a proper celebration, and then fixed his gaze on me, as if asking whether I would go in his stead.

I answered, Dont even ask, though I knew I would eventually agree after all, Lucy was my dear friend.

Tom gave me the details. The groom, Alexander Hart, was 45, divorced once, and owned a pair of corner shops, a petrol station, and a small workshop in the market town of Whitby. He had no children of his own, but had raised his son James from his first marriage as his own. James was a demanding lad, the sort who always wanted the newest trinket, and the two now kept mostly to themselves, though Alexander still sent James a modest allowance out of old habit.

All that was known about the bride, Sophie Hart, was that she was considerably younger than her future husband.

The big day arrived. Tom and I drove straight to the register office in York; we did not partake in any of the prewedding revelry. Alexander was a solidly built man with a square jaw, an eaglesharp nose and deep blue eyes that seemed to promise reliability. Sophie, a natural blonde, had dyed her long hair jetblack, giving her an elegant, if somewhat solemn, air. She was in the prime of her life perhaps twentyfive, though I later guessed her age correctly.

The ceremony proceeded smoothly until a dashing young lad slipped in through the doors a handsome fellow with a boyish grin, his eyes scanning the crowd with a mischievous sparkle. All guests turned their attention to him. Sophie, meanwhile, was gliding among the guests, her gaze suddenly locking with that of the newcomer. The expression on her face changed in an instant, and chaos erupted.

The young man pointed toward the exit. Sophie turned, followed him, and fled. It all happened in the breath of a line from a wedding toast: Some days leave an indelible mark upon our lives, and this day shall remain with you forever. The guests gasped. A lady in a widebrimmed hat shouted, Sophie, dear, where are you off to? while the groom, composed as ever, merely managed a faint smile.

The ceremony was halted. People whispered in bewilderment; the brides mother broke down in tears in the hall. A gentleman approached her, muttering through sobs, She drove off in a car. What a disgrace. She wont answer any calls. No one could make sense of it all. The Hart parents tried to apologise to Alexander for the disruption.

Around fifty guests had travelled from far and wide. Eventually someone asked, What now, dear? Do we head back to the station? Shall we still go to the tea room? A portly man in a striped shirt inquired, and his tall, elegant wife with wavy blonde hair merely sighed.

What surprised me most was the grooms reaction. He surveyed the bewildered crowd, then announced, Gentlefolk, shall we have tea? The bills are settled, the tea is ready. Let us proceed! The guests, relieved, followed him without a hint of disappointment. Alexander conducted himself with poise, though his eyes betrayed a bruised heart. He slipped his wedding band into his pocket, as if to keep it safe.

During the supper we learned that Sophie had fled with the very son of Alexander, James. It sounded like a plot from a serial drama. The two had been dating; James had broken up with her two weeks earlier and vanished. Afterwards, Sophie met Alexander, fell for him despite the age gap, and accepted his proposal. Her mother, wiping her cheeks with a handkerchief, said, We were thrilled! A respectable, welloff man! We never imagined anything like this. It wasnt a romance, just a light affair. She was oblivious that the man her daughter was about to marry was the father of her former lover. Whether Alexander knew remained a mystery; perhaps he did not. The invitation had arrived at the last minute, and he might have thought he was merely attending an old friends wedding.

The young man who had whisked Sophie away never impressed me; he seemed the sort who clings to others like a leech. Perhaps he had simply wanted to be seen, to catch Sophies eye. Tom, meanwhile, could barely eat, let alone dance. He spent the evening repeatedly calling Lucys hospital ward, regretting his inability to be present at such a memorable ceremony.

The guests chatted amiably, ate, and drank. The groom was whispered about as a good soul. Alexander remained as calm as a seasoned sailor, his face a mask of composure. Within two hours, most had forgotten the scandal, except for an elderly aunt with a warlike mien who muttered, Sophie should be sent to the workhouse for such a stunt! The master of ceremonies was initially asked to leave, but a quickwitted young fellow promised to keep the evening lively, and the show went on.

Soon enough, Sophie reappeared at the doorway. Her mother lunged at her once more, while the father hurried, perhaps hoping to reprimand his daughter properly. The groom raced to her side. The scene was tense, but they eventually settled. Sophie, on trembling knees, begged Alexanders forgiveness for abandoning him at the register office. It took her a few hours to grasp the gravity of her mistake, then she returned to the hall.

Did Alexander cast her out? No he forgave her. They sat together at the head of the table, and the exhausted guests finally shouted a collective Hurray! The true wedding began anew. I wondered whether I had acted correctly, but I could not bring myself to ask the groom, Why? I wanted to understand why he had chosen forgiveness.

Everyone deserves a chance, Alexander later told me. We all err, we all take a misstep. One should not cling to the thought that they will always be right. If youre betrayed again, thats another story. But once, we must be prepared to forgive everything. Those were his words.

Sophie and Alexander were officially married two months later, and the following day they filed the paperwork at the register office. The rogue who had caused the disruption vanished, though rumors suggested Alexander still supported him financially for the inconvenience he caused. In any case, the family later welcomed twin girls.

Tom, my friends husband, often sums up the whole affair with a wry smile: At least it makes for a story worth remembering! He was right. Though I would never wish such a wedding upon anyone, the memory lingers, a peculiar chapter of my life that still brings a chuckle whenever I think of it.