by Abigail Agar
‘May their love be fruitful,’ continued the priest. ‘And their home a place of peace. Make this marriage a sign of your love. May they know the love of the Father, the life of the Son, and the joy of the Spirit.’
‘Amen,’ responded the congregation even more out of synch with each other than before.
Amen, thought Vera, emphatically.
Eventually, the vows were vowed, the rings exchanged, the bride kissed – a moment when Lord Stanley’s sense of parade floundered completely, and he let out a beautiful laugh of pure joy before lifting her veil and pressing his smile to hers – and the bouquet thrown.
The whole day around her seemed to pass for Vera at a great distance; only Lord Stanley seemed so close, so vital that there was no room for the objects that moved in the happy couple’s orbit. The only truly real things were her own happiness and Lord Stanley, her beloved James, with whom at last she was truly united.
After playing the part of so many people, she realised she was not returning to herself, but becoming yet another person, part of an intertwined pair. But this time it felt more like making something new than covering up something old.
The wedding party walked down the hill together, back towards the house where a feast had been cooked up. Lord Stanley’s hand was in hers, holding on as if for dear life. As if their sublime happiness were something that was at risk of drifting away if not nailed down, tied up, or bottled.
As the crowd approached, the Manse loomed over them – an old house now content to sit silently on its secrets, old and new. One by one the lovers and guests vanished into its open maw.
From down the road, carriages began to arrive, disgorging the crowd of partygoers invited from Lord Stanley’s bachelor days, and the Forsyth girls who Vera had been friends with and who had refused to testify against her in court – a fact that made her most grateful.
The ballroom’s huge glass doors were open and let in the warm spring air and the smell of the flowers blooming in the Manse’s garden.
From far away, a cuckoo began calling, and Vera smiled at her husband – it felt so right to call him that in her own mind; after all, she had been longing for it for months now – what felt like one moment in an infinitely long smile.
They danced to the strains of a thirty-piece orchestra, and Vera made a point of dancing near the other couples in an attempt to hear what they had to say.
She couldn’t wait to look in a mirror and meet the new Lady Stanley, but first there was the matter of the long awaited consummation.
So she leaned in close and whispered in Lord Stanley’s ear, ‘You’ve waited long enough, my holy hermit. Let’s spend a private moment or two together.’
He smiled at her, kissed her, and grabbed her hand. They slipped quietly out of the milling relatives and acquaintances, up the stairs and out to the master bedroom in the East Wing, now purged of its old ghosts.
Behind them the music of the band faded along with the chatter of their guests, and they were alone together at last.
Each of them finally able to be truly themselves.
THE END
Can't get enough of Vera and James? Then make sure to check out the Extended Epilogue to find out…
Will Vera find safety in a new family, after she wrongfully lost her own?
Will Lord Stanley manage to overcome his grief and welcome life's second chance to happiness?
What other adventures await our star-crossed couple?
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