by Abby Ayles
Miss Ramsbottom rested a hand on Mary's shoulder, causing her to jump briefly. “Sorry to startle you, Miss, but you have a guest.”
Mary nodded. “Please, invite her in,” she said.
“Him,” Miss Ramsbottom corrected.
Mary felt her heart twitch and flutter. And yet... no, it was probably one of her cousins. She drew a deep breath. She dared not hope. Turning around on her stool, she watched the doorway, as Miss Ramsbottom escorted Duke Haskett in.
He smiled, his expression still bold and roguish, but with a slight softness behind it, a new air of humility that even he could not hide. “I believe you wished to see me,” he said as Miss Ramsbottom exited the room, leaving the door open.
“Three days ago,” Mary replied.
“Oh... I suppose I have missed my chance?” he said, his smile shrinking a bit. “You have a new suitor?”
Mary smiled and shook her head. “No, no new suitor.”
“Would you still see me today, then?” he asked.
Mary nodded.
“Please, continue playing,” he said as he walked over to her. “I take it you still enjoy Lully?”
Mary nodded again as she turned her stool around. “His music reminds me of you,” she said.
“Is that so? Even after all that has happened, you still wish to be reminded of me?” he asked.
“Every day, for as long as I shall live,” she replied.
“Even if I were not to marry you?” Duke Haskett asked in a low tone.
Mary paused briefly, then resumed playing. “Even so, I shall never wish to forget you.”
“Then I suppose,” Duke Haskett released an overly affected sigh, “it is my duty to at least court you some more. We cannot have you marrying some poor fellow and dreaming of me every night, now, can we?”
Mary laughed a little. “No, we cannot.”
* * *
It took some time to rebuild the trust which had fallen apart, but now, as the leaves were turning, Mary knew that she had made the right decision to give him a second chance. While walking through the park—her parents and a couple of servants a few yards behind them—Mary laid her hand on Duke Haskett's arm. She felt at ease. Nothing untoward had occurred in those few months. He had remained a gentleman, remained witty, remained intelligent, and, most importantly, remained honest.
Looking up into his eyes, she felt herself melting, longing for his touch. She had progressed beyond interest, doubt, and affection, into something which blossomed more and more each day. That yearning which had awoken in her the first time her suitor had been announced was now a burning fire. And in his eyes she could see the flame was also burning.
It was time.
Stopping by the gate at the end of the park, they waited for her parents to catch up with them. Mary felt her heart thumping in her chest like it was trying to burst out. They had spoken of proposals recently, and seeing that glimmer in Duke Haskett's eye let her know that he would seize the moment.
They all stopped by the gate, where a servant produced a few bottles of cordial, glasses, and wrapped sandwiches, as refreshments before the walk back home. Mary had no appetite for hers. She simply glanced up expectantly at Duke Haskett.
“Sir Elridge,” Duke Haskett began, “I have known and courted your daughter now for quite some time and I have been thinking... it would be a dreadful shame to have a wedding in midwinter.”
Sir Elridge started slightly, looked at the young couple, then smiled knowingly. “That it would.”
“I was thinking, perhaps a fall wedding would be quite lovely. The red leaves thick in the trees would make it a day to remember,” he continued.
Sir Elridge nodded.
“Sir Elridge, would you be so kind as to grant me your daughter's hand in marriage?”
“Of course,” Sir Elridge replied.
There was a slight popping sound as, leaning against the gate for support, Lady Elridge opened her phial of smelling salts and inhaled deeply. She looked dizzy, but was smiling.
“Congratulations, my sweet,” she finally said wrapping her arms around Mary and hugging her closely. “Congratulations to both of you from the bottom of my heart.”
* * *
The bells rang over the hills and the crowd murmured gently as Sir Elridge took Mary's hand at the bottom of the aisle. She was a vision in white, with layers of pure white lace around the skirts of her dress, pure white flowers in her veil, a string of pearls around her neck, and a bouquet of white roses clasped between her hands. Her face was carefully painted.
The pews were packed, with a few people she knew, but largely people she did not, on both sides. She assumed that many of her mother's friends and relations from back when she lived with the Baron were in attendance, and she spied many high ranking nobles on Duke Haskett's side of the room. At the top of the aisle, in the last row of pews, she saw her mother and Antoinette peering out at her. Lady Elridge was weeping heartily. Antoinette was grinning, brimming with excitement.
Walking up the aisle she laid eyes upon her groom for the first time that day. Duke Haskett stood proud in a blue suit and black overcoat, sporting a bold blue, white and green cravat honouring York's flag. His shoes and hair shone under the bright light of the Autumn sun, tinted by the stained glass windows of the church.
The ceremony went by as a blur. Mary held her father's arm as the vicar spoke. But she did not see her father or the vicar. Her eyes could not be drawn from her groom. All she could do was gaze upon him and admire him. He looked down into her eyes and she could tell that he was just as enraptured.
“Wilt thou,” began the vicar, “have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” replied Duke Haskett, his face reddening.
“And will thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” said Mary with a light sigh.
The vicar took the ring from the pillow and passed it to Duke Haskett, who took it in one hand, her small fingers in his other. “With this Ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen.” Duke Haskett's words sent shivers down Mary's spine.
As Duke Haskett finished slipping the ring onto her finger, she gently clasped his hand. His fingers entwined with hers and he leaned in for the kiss. Mary had been waiting for this day for so long, she felt as though her heart could burst. His soft lips on hers felt hot as coals, and she wondered whether this was why some brides fainted at their wedding. She could faintly perceive the applause in the pews, but it was as though through a wall, a world apart from them. All she cared for was Duke Haskett, as he broke the kiss and, taking her hand, began walking her back down the aisle. Her eyes were fixed on him as he they were showered with rose petals.
Exiting the church, they walked out into streaming bright sunlight, with a faint breeze bringing down fiery red and orange leaves across the church gardens. Their coach waited at the bottom of the steps, to take them to Duke Haskett's mansion for signing the registry and having their wedding breakfast. He lifted her up into the coach, to some applause from the younger men in attendance, before climbing in after her.
For the first time, they sat snugly side by side, in complete privacy besides the driver, Mary felt at peace with the world. She leaned against his shoulder, already exhausted. He ran his fingertips gently over her hair. She lifted her head and locked eyes with him. Briefly, she wondered whether she ought to say something.
What was there to say that they didn't know already?
Th
eir lips met once more as the coach raced down the lane, towards their future as one.
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About the Author
Abby Ayles was born in the northern city of Manchester, England, but currently lives in Charleston, South Carolina, with her husband and their three cats. She holds a Master’s degree in History and Arts and worked as a history teacher in middle school.
Her greatest interest lies in the era of Regency and Victorian England and Abby shares her love and knowledge of these periods with many readers in her newsletter.
In addition to this she has also written her first romantic novel, The Duke's Secrets, which is set in the era and is available for free on her website. As one reader commented – ‘Abby’s writing makes you travel back in time…’
When she has time to herself, Abby enjoys going to the theatre, reading and watching documentaries about Regency and Victorian England.
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