by Martha Keyes
Elias gazed down at the two headstones before him, the one as small as the person it commemorated, with years of lichen and moss creeping around its edges, and the other tall and new in comparison.
It was beautiful, in an unexpected way. His father had wanted a daughter for years, and when she had finally come, she had been taken too soon, a victim of consumption. Elias’s father had never fully recovered from the loss. But here he and Caroline were, beside each other again.
The wind picked up, and Elias glanced at the deep gray skies which promised rain. He wouldn’t be able to stay long before the path home became pure mud. A bit of thunder rumbled in the distance, and a carriage passed behind the drystone wall of the church grounds.
Elias pulled off his gloves and hat and bent down, putting his hat on the ground and a bare hand in the grass to stabilize himself. He reached to Caroline’s gravestone, tracing the etched letters of her name. The cold, rough stone was the closest he would get to her now.
The gate to the cemetery creaked with the wind, and Elias wiped hurriedly at his eyes.
A gust of wind pushed through, blowing his hat from his side, and he stumbled a bit to rise from his bent position and hurry after it.
The hat tumbled until coming to a stop a dozen feet away. He stilled, heart stopping, when he saw what was beyond.
Edith stood just inside the gate, bonnet ribbons blowing in the wind. She held a bouquet of bright flowers in her hands. Elias was certain she had never looked more beautiful in her life, with the breeze tugging wisps of hair across her pink cheeks, and the hesitant way she stood, as if on the edge of some precipice.
“Mrs. Tinsley told me you were here, and I wondered if you might like some company.”
Elias swallowed hurriedly, too afraid to try to understand what was happening. All he could manage was a nod, and she walked toward him, picking up his hat on the way and handing it to him when she reached his side. Her eyes moved to the headstones behind him, and he shut his eyes for a brief moment as the wind carried her scent around him and then away again.
She separated the flowers in her hand into two bouquets and bent down, placing one at the base of his father’s gravestone and the other at the base of Caroline’s, reaching for two small rocks nearby to weigh them down. Elias was only vaguely aware of what she was doing. His eyes were fixed on her face.
“What are you doing here?” He couldn’t help himself, rude as the words sounded. He needed to know.
She turned toward him, meeting his gaze as she pulled in a deep breath. She reached into her pelisse and pulled out a folded paper. “I wanted to bring you this.”
He set his hat down on the ground and took the paper from her, opening each corner and feeling her eyes on him.
The marriage license.
His gaze flew to hers, and he was struck by the uncertainty in her eyes, the way they searched his face nervously.
She gave a feeble laugh, indicating the paper with a nod. “Two weeks ago I would have laughed at the idea of my name on such a document—and then burnt it in the nearest grate.” Her chest rose with another deep breath, and she glanced upward with a wry smile. “Today I find myself terrified that it might blow away with the wind, for it holds the dearest wish of my heart.”
Elias’s grip slackened on the paper, and the wind licked at it, pulling it from his hands. Edith hurried to grasp it, as did he.
She laughed, letting her hand drop. “Apparently I was justified in my fears.” She held his gaze again. “Elias, I love you. I haven’t the first idea how it came to happen or precisely when it happened, but it did. And you have watched me fight it, just as I fight everything that terrifies me.” She paused. “But I don’t want to fight anymore. I am scared” —she shut her eyes a moment and looked down— ”scared of so many things: that I shall hurt you, or that you shall hurt me; that I won’t know how to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”
Elias could barely hear her words over the pounding in his own chest, and he quickly folded the paper back into its neat square so that he could grasp one of her hands in his.
She smiled with a watery chuckle. “Above all things, I must ensure you have the very lowest expectations of me, for I am certain that I shall say unkind things, that I shall provoke you, that I shall fail at times. But I am even more certain that I want to try—I want to love you as you are meant to be loved.” She looked at him shyly. “If you will let me?”
He stared down at her, his heart thundering in his chest, and studied every detail of her face in a moment so full of unanticipated joy that it ached. He reached a hand to her face, savoring the softness of her cheek. “Do you think me so spineless that I am afraid of you?”
She smiled and looked down. “Perhaps you should be.”
He slid his hand under her chin, urging it upward so that he could look into her eyes. “For some time now, I have been certain that the only life I wish to live is one by your side, Edith. There is no doubt in my mind that we will come to blows on a regular basis—always your fault, naturally.” He smiled and tenderly brushed a hair from her face. “But I shouldn’t wish for it any other way, if only it means I get the chance to love you for the rest of my life.”
She swallowed, emitting a trembling breath, and put a hand to cover his, leaning her cheek into it. “I am terribly stubborn,” she said.
“I know this. But as long as you promise to love me stubbornly…”
She lifted her eyes to his and gave a fervent nod. “I promise.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her gaze so that she couldn’t doubt his next words. “I love you now and will love you always, Edith. I will fight with you, yes. Every day, perhaps. But I will just as certainly make up with you every single time, with a promise to love you more deeply than ever.”
He tilted his head and leaned toward her until his lips touched hers, sending a thrill through him at their warmth and softness. They had kissed before—unplanned kisses full of passion and attraction and anger—but this kiss was all love and promise, gentle but firm. It was the garden beyond the high, stone walls; it was the very part of Edith that he had longed to experience for himself—the part that could not be taken, only willingly given.
Her hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him more tightly toward her, and he shivered as the first raindrops fell on his hands and hair. Her hands threaded lightly through his hair, and he felt his knees threaten to give way underneath him.
She pulled away, looking up with squinted eyes as a raindrop fell on her face. Taking his hand from around her waist, she took the folded certificate from it, smiling as she tucked it back into her pelisse. “For its safety,” she said.
“What, then? Are we to elope again?” he asked, secretly touched at her concern that the license not be ruined. He put out his hand, and two raindrops landed upon it. “I don’t think the weather will hold.”
She smiled mischievously. “You mustn’t mind the clouds in the south. The worst weather always follows the coastline.”
“But we are on the coastline.”
She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “Have a bit of courage, my love.” She reached a hand to his hair, which was getting more wet by the second. “We needn’t elope, but I admit that I have no wish to wait for the banns to be posted. What do you say to making use of the perfectly good wedding my father planned for us?”
He smiled, nodding at the stone church. “I would marry you in this church right now if the vicar was here.”
She glanced at the church and then to the gravestones, her face becoming thoughtful. “Perhaps we should be married here.”
Elias’s gaze followed hers, and he felt emotion rise in his throat.
Their eyes met. “I should like that,” he said.
She took his hand in hers, clasping it tightly. “Tell me about them.”
“I have already forgotten so much.” There was a small break in his voice.
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “The more you tel
l me, the more you will remember—and the more I can help keep those memories alive.”
He planted a kiss on her bonnet, and his lips came away wet from raindrops.
“If you’d like,” she said, raising her head to look at him, “we might sit down together and write things down. Then you shall always have the memories.”
He nodded, and a watery chuckle escaped from him. He brushed a tear from his cheek. “Blasted raindrops.”
She raised a skeptical brow.
He grimaced helplessly. “I’m afraid I tend to cry quite often, Edith.”
Her mouth stretched into a smile. “If I can manage you snoring like a lion, I can surely handle your crying like a baby.”
“A lion?” He pulled her along with him on the path toward the gate. “I believe you likened it to thunder last time. I seem to have made very quick progress.” In a swift motion, he scooped her up into his arms, ignoring the exclamation of surprise she emitted.
“What in the world are you doing?” she cried.
He smiled down at her. “I know how your knees trouble you, Mrs. Cherriman.” He leaned in to kiss her before she could protest.
Epilogue
The fire crackled in the grate of the drawing room in Edith and Elias Abram’s London townhouse, causing a steamy mist to cover the bottom half of the sash windows on either side of the fireplace. Edith glanced through the window as carriages clattered and the breath of the horses pulling them puffed out in small clouds up and down the street in the January air.
“Who is it?” Elias asked, glancing up from the letter he was reading.
Edith squinted at the equipage that had come to a stop in front of their house, with its large yellow wheels and an ornate crest emblazoned on the door. The door opened, and a man attired in very precise clothing stretched across a pair of fine shoulders stepped down. He spoke a few words of instruction to the driver of the chaise before striding toward the front door of the Abram townhouse.
“It is Lord Oxley,” Edith said.
“Ah, good.” Elias folded up the letter and rose. “I have been waiting for news of his arrival in town. He isn’t one to miss the opening of Parliament, which was this morning, I believe.”
“What news from Matthew?” Edith said, glancing at herself in the reflection of the standing clock and tucking a stray hair behind her ear.
Elias chuckled, taking Edith’s hand and pulling her into his arms. “He claims he’s been detained at Shipton House with further business, but….”
“Is that how he refers to Miss Perry?” Edith said with a smile, looking up into her husband’s eyes.
Elias wagged his eyebrows once, and the door opened.
“Lord Oxley,” the footman announced.
Lord Oxley stepped through the doorway, a wide, straight smile lightening his dark features and softening his angular jaw. His nose was touched with pink, evidence of the frigid winter air, some of which swept with him into the room.
He raised a brow at the sight of Edith and Elias in each other’s arms then laughed. “A sight I never thought to see!” He inclined his head at Edith. “Good day, Mrs. Abram. Very pleased to see you, though I can’t say I’m impressed with the man you’ve shackled yourself to.”
Edith arched a brow, looking up at Elias again. “I took pity on him.”
Elias flicked her hair playfully. “You’ve always had a pitifully soft heart.”
She rolled her eyes and kissed him on the cheek, then, feeling Lord Oxley’s eyes on them, she pulled away slightly. She had become no better than Mercy and Solomon—forgetting anyone else was in the room when she was with Elias.
But Lord Oxley didn’t seem bothered. “Marriage looks good on you, Abram. Never thought to say that, I admit, but I offer you my congratulations.”
Lord Oxley and Elias embraced in the way that only men would: shaking hands and then yanking each other in and clapping one another on the back.
Edith surveyed the man she owed much of her current happiness to. She hoped that, absent Elias’s gesture and Lord Oxley’s assistance, she would have come to see the wisdom and joy in marrying Elias, even if it wasn’t of her own free will. But she was a stubborn woman, and she was simply glad that things had happened the way they had.
The men stepped back from one another, and Elias glanced at Edith. “My wife and I have both eaten our fair share of humble pie as everyone has come to know of our marriage. But I’ll tell you something, Ox. Humble pie tastes very tolerable indeed when you have a wife to share it with. And now” —he made an exaggerated bow— “we gladly pass the torch to you.” He rose and raised a brow. “Get thee a wife.”
“All in good time,” Lord Oxley said, with a dismissive hand wave. “If this morning is any indication, I shall have my hands too full to think of aught else but my duties in Parliament. I came to tell you that the motion to discuss the borough issue has been postponed indefinitely. It caused quite a ruckus amongst the cause’s champions in the House, as I understand.”
Edith stepped toward him. “Postponed?”
Lord Oxley nodded. “It comes as little surprise to most of us. There isn’t near enough support for it yet. I imagine it will be years before there will be, if ever.”
Edith nodded and looked at Elias, who came to stand beside her again. “My parents will both be sorely disappointed.”
He raised his brows significantly. “Stratton, on the other hand….”
Lord Oxley frowned. “Have you heard that he is up to any of his antics again?”
Elias shook his head. “No. I think the threat of you bringing action against him has been enough to keep him in line. But time will tell.”
Lord Oxley nodded then looked at them with another smile. “Well, I shan’t stay any longer. I just thought I would step in as I passed on my way to St. James’s.”
He bid Edith goodbye, and Elias walked him to the front door, while Edith looked out of the window again, grateful to be inside.
When Elias returned, he came straight up to Edith, feigning a glare at her. “Now, madam.” He pulled her into his arms. “What’s this about you taking pity on me?”
She wrapped her own arms around his neck and cocked a brow, feeling that familiar thrill of being in his arms. “What of it?”
He shrugged, tugging her in toward him more tightly. “I was merely wondering what I might expect—pathetic creature that I am—from your admirable compassion?”
She laughed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Allow me to give you a demonstration, Mr. Cherriman.”
He tipped his head so his lips hovered just shy of hers. “Gladly, my lady.”
Afterword
Thank you so much for reading this book. I had a wonderful time writing it, and I hope you enjoyed getting to know the characters.
I also hope you look forward to reading the upcoming books in the series to learn more in depth about some of the characters you’ve only heard briefly about so far.
I have done my best to be true to the time period and particulars of the day, so I apologize if I got anything wrong. I continue learning and researching while trying to craft stories that will be enjoyable to readers like you.
If you enjoyed the book, please leave a review and tell your friends! Authors like me rely on readers like you to spread the word about books you’ve enjoyed.
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Other titles by Martha Keyes
If you enjoyed this book, make sure to check out my other books:
Families of Dorset Series
Wyndcross: A Regency Romance (Book One)
Isabel: A Regency Romance (Book Two)
Cecilia: A Regency Romance (Book Three)
Hazelhurst: A Regency Romance (Book Four)
Phoebe: A Regency Romance (Series Novelette)
Regen
cy Shakespeare Series
A Foolish Heart (Book One)
Other Titles
Goodwill for the Gentleman (Belles of Christmas Book Two)
Eleanor: A Regency Romance
The Road through Rushbury (Seasons of Change Book One)
Join my Newsletter to keep in touch and learn more about the Regency era! I try to keep it fun and interesting.
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Acknowledgments
Suffice it to say, I would never have had the courage—or the gall—to tackle a Shakespeare retelling without my mom. I grew up hearing and performing Shakespeare, thanks to her. She spent years—seventeen, to be exact—directing the sixth grade Shakespeare play at our local elementary school, changing many lives in the process. I owe so much to her.
My husband is always kind, understanding, and quick to make writing time possible—along with all the other tasks that come with it—whenever I need.
Thank you to my children who have continued to nap so that I can find time to write. May the odds continue to be in my favor.
Thank you to my editor, Jenny Proctor, for her wonderful feedback—I’m so glad I have you!
Thank you to my critique group partners, Jess, Kasey, and Emily for helping me get the book where I wanted it. I value our friendship and your input so much! Thank you to my other beta readers for taking on the daunting task of tightening things up in the manuscript.
Thank you to my Review Team for your help and support in an often nervewracking business.
About the Author