Quickly, succinctly, George relayed the news of Maria Lockley’s elopement. Delia sat immobile, staring at him. “But, he says he is getting married…” Her eyes grew large and she began slowly shaking her head. “No…No! Not the little governess girl!”
“Mother, listen.”
“Twenty thousand pounds!”
“Lost the minute she eloped. It was not William’s fault.”
“He mishandled things. There must have been some great neglect! Ohhhh!”
“He is happy. I have never seen him so happy as he is now.”
“What has happiness to do with it! The governess?!”
“Technically, she never was a governess.”
“I will not allow it!” she fairly screamed.
Her words rang in the quiet that followed. George went to her and sat beside her, took her hands and said gently, “He will marry her. They will be happy. And frankly, I am happy for them. Truly, Mother, when you see him…”
She snatched her hands away, wiping a tear. “I don’t wish to see him. Or her.”
He sat back and rubbed his temples with his fingers. “Well, you will have to eventually.” He stood and left her to grieve for Miss Lockley and her twenty-thousand pounds.
Epilogue
The wedding of Sir William Strathom and Miss Eliza Denham was one of those rare events in the village of Lytchley which filled everyone who contemplated it with joy and extreme satisfaction. While Mr. Waddell might be thought to be somewhat cast down, he reveled in the thought that this wayward young lady had accepted a man much his superior and would now be governed by a strong husband. Reverend Bart welcomed it as the last event for which he would officiate, finally deciding to retire and leave any future christenings to Waddell.
Henrietta and Penelope rejoiced to see their friend walk the short church aisle to stand beside her husband-to-be. Lady Loughton sniffed at the match but sat regally beside her husband and children to witness the union. Shyly joyous, Eliza glowed in the sunlight as she gazed up at William. George, after resisting the match for so long, had finally come to feel almost the same wild happiness his brother felt at finally winning the woman of his heart and dreams. Delia had deigned not to attend, claiming an indisposition which the country and low connexions could ill support.
The inhabitants of Little Cottage, though terribly sad to see her go, were elated that she would be less than two miles away. Alastair Enger, indeed, was only too happy to know that she would be settled and so well cared for. Bessie shed many happy tears as she sat in the back of the church, and Aunt Gemma, seated beside Uncle Enger, actually grabbed his hand and squeezed it at one point in her excitement. Jamie grinned, and even Gower showed up to stand at the back with Ben lurking outside.
Sir William Strathom, dressed in black suit and dark blue waistcoat looked, especially dashing, or perhaps it was the way his countenance glowed with true happiness. His Lady, wearing the special dress she had fashioned for the ball, matched him in this. Together, they walked out of the church and into the new barouche William had purchased for his bride. For this short journey, the top was down, and villagers stood in open doorways to cheer them on. The cake and wedding party followed the carriage that carried Alastair and Gemma, as well as the Darrows carriage.
There was hardly a thought for Miss Maria Lockley, now Mrs. Harold Carleton. It might be thought that she had allowed her passions to run away with her sense, and if she thought so too, while riding in the rather simple carriage from her small London townhome, she certainly did not tell anyone, excepting perhaps her husband who soon grew tired of her complaining and turned to the first in a series of mistresses.
The wedding party and their closest friends retired to Tredwell Abbey for a light breakfast and fervent congratulations. The bride was welcomed to her new home by all the staff with true warmth. Mrs. Haddely, indeed, felt that she had gained a mistress whose household skills were second only to her own and even superior in part. She sensed that with a little confidence, her new mistress would command the respect of all within her purview.
Rivers was thankful to have the bays in work again. Surely with a mistress, the carriage would be called for far more often. In addition, he knew the value of a mistress who would take notice of those in her care, and her ministrations to Elspeth Thornton had proven her worth. He was somewhat disappointed that she did not ride, but master had hinted that she might wish to learn, so he was on the lookout for a calm mare with which to teach her. The dapple gray had just a touch too much dash for a new rider, as he had informed Sir William.
Adelaide Welles was grieved that her advice was not required during the planning of the wedding as she felt sure there could have been a saving of several pence in the constructing of Eliza’s veil. In addition, she felt that the buns sent for the breakfast following the wedding had not been as fresh as they could have been, and the wedding cake she calculated to have been far too large.
William watched his bride throughout the course of the day, filled with an immeasurable sense of happiness. She was never far from his side, though she seemed to avoid his gaze after blushing most becomingly when catching his eye once or twice. It was apparent to all that the couple was well matched and destined for as much convivial joy as might be reasonably expected in this life.
Finally, the day grew short and the guests grew few, and then none. The servants quietly set about putting the house to rights while the bride and groom retired to the rooms that had traditionally belonged to the head of the house. Eliza stood in front of the dressing table, looking at her simple brushes and ornaments set out upon it. She removed her gloves and laid them neatly to one side, then reached behind her to unclasp her necklace. William’s fingers met hers and he focused intently to undo the clasp without snagging her hair. Then it was done, and their eyes met in the mirror.
Still holding her gaze, he bent to kiss her on the neck and she arched against him in response. “I won’t rush you, dearest.” He lifted her up into her arms and his mouth moved to claim hers.
“Mmmm,” she sighed, and caught her breath, as his lips burned a trail down her neck. “You won’t have to,” she said as he lifted his head to look at her. She smiled and kissed him back.
The End
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About the Author
Grace Colline lives in Stockbridge, Georgia with two of her five children and way too many dogs. When she is not grading papers for her online Biology classes or cooking, she is dreaming of worlds very different to our own. For inspiration, she sits at her spinning wheel turning fiber into yarn until the story is ready to be told.
You can follow Grace at www.gracecolline.com
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An Inconvenient Engagement Page 22