A Handful of Ashes
Page 31
Ushered into the pews reserved for them, they appeared unaware of the craning necks. All of them greeted Siana as though she’d never been away. Prudence gave her a kiss on the cheek and the benefit of a few wise words before she seated herself. ‘One must forgive and forget, Siana.’
Who should be forgiven and who should forget was unclear, though. But for Pansy’s sake, Siana was thankful the Mathesons had accepted their invitation. She had no time to ponder on it before Pansy appeared on the arm of her father. Preceded by her attendants, the bridal party made their way down the aisle. Francis slid into the seat beside Siana when the pair began to exchange their vows, taking her hand in his.
Beside her, Marcus drew in a trembling breath. She could feel his anguish and knew he was remembering the vows he’d exchanged with Maryse in this very church. Just as certain, she knew Julia would lessen that pain for him in years to come, for this woman with her warm nature, her kindness and intelligence, had been born for that very reason.
Pansy and Josh had also remembered Maryse in their happiness. When the ceremony was over, Josh led Pansy to her sister’s grave, where she placed her posy of wedding flowers. It was a touching and precious moment, one that brought the Matheson family closer.
Looking around her, Siana saw the graves of so many people once close to her. Her mother, whose life had been cut tragically short in childbirth after a traumatic fire. Her first husband, Edward Forbes, and Ashley, the beloved son she’d borne him.
Then there was Reverend Richard White, once her mentor and friend, who had nurtured the thirst for knowledge inside an impoverished peasant girl, and helped her along the path to the woman she’d become today. Siana had come a long way since then, but he had left her his library of books, which, once again, had opened a treasure trove for her.
Her glance fell on the grave of the tragic Maryse, her sweet stepdaughter. What had they become, these people she’d loved? They were nothing but a bittersweet memory. A handful of ashes. The bounty of autumn covered their remains in a thick blanket of glorious copper leaves.
Life pulsed through her body as she gazed towards the hills and felt their pull. But today was not a day to heed the pagan call of them. Today, they had guests and were celebrating the union of life. It wasn’t part of Siana’s nature to remain sad for ever. With her heart overflowing with love for her family, she had no choice but to leave the dead to their rest. Amongst them was no place for herself and Francis, not yet, for their season of living had hardly begun.
The marriage celebrations proved to be lively, ending just before darkness fell. The guests departed, leaving the newly married couple to their own celebration.
Rivervale House welcomed them back. The children were settled in their beds and kissed goodnight.
‘It’s good to be home,’ Francis said, sliding his arm around her waist and gazing down at the sleeping Francine, tucked into her cot.
‘You’re my home, Francis. You always have been.’ Gazing up at him, Siana never thought she’d feel such contentment again as when she told him, ‘I’m carrying your son.’
That beautiful smile she’d always loved so much appeared on his face. ‘Aye, Siana mine.’
‘You knew?’
‘From the very moment of his conception.’ He chuckled and, entwining her fingers with his, bore her knuckles to his mouth to be kissed. Together, they strolled downstairs to their chamber, and closed the door firmly behind them.