by Janet Woods
‘Thank you for believing in me and accepting me. I’m glad you’re my father.’
‘I’m not very fancy, and I’m not one for pretty speeches, lass. I’ve only known you a short time, but I do want you to know that the time we shared together was an unexpected gift. I kept your man waiting as long as possible even though I knew I’d have to part with you eventually. He threatened to throttle me in the end.’
He grinned when she giggled. ‘If I go tomorrow I’ll die a happy man.’
‘Don’t you dare say such a thing, Pa. You want to live to see your grandchildren grow up, don’t you?’
‘Aye, I do, and I shall. But today I must give you away, and I’m going to miss you. But Adam is a good man, who has fought strong and hard for you.’ He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, saying gruffly, ‘I love you, Serafina, my girl, and I loved your mother too. I reckon she’d be right proud of the way you’ve turned out. Now, I’m not saying another word else we’ll both be bawling by the time we get to the church, and Charlotte and Marianne will never forgive me if you arrive with red eyes.’
The church bells began to ring as they neared St James.
Her sisters were waiting for her, all smiles, and wearing lace that matched the lace on her wedding dress. They carried pink roses.
Serafina could see Adam standing with Nick and Seth, and the love she felt for him reached out from her.
The Reverend Peter William Jolliffe, who had counselled them on the obligations of marriage, and the significance of the vows they were about to exchange, waited patiently for her to finish her traverse of the long, wide aisle. Behind him, the coloured glass window shone in all its glory.
The church was crowded. There were several faces she knew, women she’d met helping Aunt Daisy in her husband’s small parish in nearby Parkstone.
The gossipy Stanhope sisters were craning their necks, looking around them and making comments. It was a letter from Lucy Stanhope which had given Adam the first clue to her identity. He had paid them a handsome reward.
The bells stopped ringing and her sisters, having straightened her train and gown, began to walk down the aisle.
‘Be happy, Serafina, my dear,’ Erasmus said, and she took his arm as they began to follow.
There was Reverend Pawley and with him, his wife . . . her dear friend Elizabeth, who’d helped her when she’d needed it most. Elizabeth blew her a kiss. Serafina hadn’t expected them to come, and although she was proud of her background, and of the man she was about to marry, at the same time she felt humble.
In one of the front pews sat the Leightons, behind them, Maggie, Fanny and Joseph Tunney, dressed in their best and smiling at her. She exchanged a smile with Celia, who looked wonderfully happy, because she was expecting a child in five months’ time. She stooped to kiss Finch Leighton on the cheek. His sight was beginning to return, and although he still couldn’t see clearly, he was making progress. He’d been gazing at the church window with a smile on his face, as if enraptured by the colours.
According to Celia, the specialist doctor had told him that nerves had been damaged by the blow to his head. The fact that he could make out shapes and colours showed that they were beginning to heal. How well they would heal was unpredictable. Since that first diagnosis, he’d regained a little more sight, enough to read large letters, though they were still blurred. They were optimistic.
Adam’s mother, Florence Wyvern sat next to them with her husband Edgar. She was very grand, so Serafina was a little in awe of her. Her husband was a lawyer, and had been kind enough to sort out the estate left to her by her aunt, Mrs Jarvis – which had been fraudulently acquired by Tyler Fenn, who was now in prison.
Serafina didn’t want to go back to the farm at Gloucester; she wanted to put her past behind her and move into the future with Adam. Rather than sell it, because property always appreciated in price, Adam had suggested that she put tenants in it, so it would bring her in an income from the rent while the property appreciated in value. She was now looking forward to living in London with the man she loved.
To most of the guests she was known as Serafina Thornton, and nobody had questioned that she was anything but a distant relative, since she had the Thornton look.
In the front pews sat Daisy with her husband, who wore a jolly smile. Nick stood a little behind and to the side of Adam, ready to hand over the wedding ring. Her sisters stood at the other side. Erasmus handed her over to Adam, then stood proud and tall with the men.
Adam smiled at her as he took her hand in his. ‘I love you,’ he whispered.
Reverend Jolliffe stepped forward, his face reflecting the gravity of the ceremony he was about to perform. The ceremony began.
‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony . . .’
‘Adam Christopher Chapman, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife . . .’
Adam sent her a smile. ‘I will.’
‘Serafina Honeyman Thornton, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband . . .’
A buzz went through the church when Erasmus exchanged an amused smile with Charlotte, who smiled back. Neither had won the argument about Serafina’s name, and in the end they’d compromised on the suggestion made by Serafina. Not that it had mattered, she thought, because today she’d become Serafina Chapman.
‘Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?’
‘I do,’ Erasmus said, and looking round at the congregation he informed them rather smugly, ‘On account of the fact that I’m her father.’
Serafina exchanged a glance with Adam and they smiled at one another when Marianne giggled and Nick chuckled.
A little while later they joined their right hands and the reverend smiled benevolently on them as he said:
‘I pronounce that they be husband and wife together.’