by Aston, Alexa
“I cannot accept this, Your Grace. It’s much too valuable.”
The man of the cloth cocked a head and studied him briefly. “So is my life, young man. King Jean would be sorely distressed to lose me, his favorite confidant. If you will not accept this token of my appreciation, what can I give you?”
Marielle swallowed. She knew, more than anything, that Ashby wanted land of his own. They would never have a future together without it. He had made that abundantly clear in the past.
“Land,” a strong voice called out.
Corot turned to Madeleine. “What did you say, my lady?”
Madeleine flashed a brilliant smile. “Land, Your Grace. Ashby has none of his own. It would help him start a new life with his wife.”
The cardinal looked at Ashby. “You are married?”
Marielle watched a beautiful smile break out on her beloved’s face. “I will be soon, Your Grace.” He looked down at Marielle, love shining in his eyes. Ashby turned back to the cardinal. “That is, if you would be willing to perform the ceremony once Advent has come to an end.”
“Ah,” said Corot, his eyes disappearing into slits as he beamed at the couple. “Being a cardinal has its advantages. That is easy to arrange. I can issue a special license so you can forego the usual formalities.”
Marielle’s heart began beating fast. Ashby’s arm tightened around her waist.
“As to land? That is a simple matter. Would you and Marielle be happier in England or France?”
Ashby looked down at her. “It’s up to you, sweetheart. I can be happy anywhere. As long as I am with you.”
Marielle didn’t hesitate. “England, Father Julien.” She had nothing but poor memories of her homeland. England’s beauty beckoned her with a fresh start.
“That settles the matter. I will arrange it with the Earl of Lambert. He manages a property of mine, left to me by my father. I’d hoped to retire there one day back in my Father Julien days.” He shrugged. “Being a cardinal now, I will never have a chance to go back. I would see the estate put into your hands. It’s the least I can do.”
“But King Edward—”
“England’s king is a reasonable man,” pointed out the cardinal. “I will speak to both my half-brother and the bishop in London. The pope if necessary—but you will gain a home for yourself and your bride. Your king will be no problem, Ashby fitz Waryn. Lay that fear to rest.”
“Then you shall have my undying gratitude, Your Grace.” Ashby slipped to his knees and took the cleric’s hand, sliding the ruby ring back onto it. He kissed the signet ring on the cardinal’s other hand and rose again to his feet.
“How long does it take to arrange a special license, Your Grace?”
“I will call my scribe. You can be married within the hour if you choose.”
“But what of Advent?” Marielle asked. “I thought no marriage could occur during it.”
Corot chuckled. “I am a cardinal, my child. We write the rules of the Church—and can make certain exceptions when we see fit.” He smiled broadly. “I believe this would be one of those occasions.”
Ashby turned to Marielle. “So, my love? Will you marry me by day’s end?”
She thought about her first wedding, being perfectly coifed and groomed, and then looked down at her filthy gown. She knew she looked a mess but the love in her heart was too strong to delay the ceremony even by an hour.
“I have waited a lifetime for you, Ashby fitz Waryn. I need not wait a minute further.”
The warmth in his smile rained sunshine down upon her as his lips touched hers. Marielle gave herself over to the kiss, no longer aware of their surroundings or companions.
“I love you,” Ashby murmured against her mouth as he pulled her into his arms for a searing kiss.
Marielle reveled in the flush of love. They would soon make their promises to one another. Those promises would turn their tomorrows into days of bliss and hope.
And love. Most of all, there would be love.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Marielle thanked the servant as he poured the last of the hot water into the porcelain basin.
“If you need anything else, let me know.”
Cardinal Corot had set his scribe to work and told Marielle and Ashby to make themselves presentable for their wedding. A priest had led Garrett and Ashby off in one direction while a servant had brought her and Madeleine to this small chamber. They were to be reunited once the scribe had completed his work.
She bathed her face and then hands in the water, already feeling refreshed by it. Her gown was worse for the wear after all she had gone through but it wouldn’t matter.
She was going to marry the love of her life minutes from now.
“Let me rebraid your hair,” Madeleine offered, loosening it and combing her fingers through Marielle’s hair since they had no comb. “Too many strands have escaped.”
Her friend sectioned off pieces and braided Marielle’s locks again.
“There,” Madeleine said. “I do believe Ashby will find you to be a most beautiful bride.”
“I almost cannot believe my good fortune,” she said. “Who would have thought things could work out so well? I will have the best husband in the world. He will have the land he has always desired. And we will live in sunshine. No dark cloud called Marc de la Tresse will ever hover over us again.”
Madeleine embraced her. “You are my dearest friend and the sister of my heart, as Ashby is my brother. I have always believed in miracles, Marielle. Most of all, I believe in love. You and Ashby have found each other and love will sustain you.”
A knock sounded at the door and Madeleine answered it. She stepped aside and allowed Cardinal Corot to enter.
“Might I have a few minutes alone with the bride?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
“Certainly, Your Grace,” Madeleine said and exited the room, closing the door behind her.
The cardinal came and took Marielle’s hands in his. “How are you, old friend?” he asked.
“I am the happiest I have ever been in my entire life,” she confided. “Ashby is such a good man. I love him so very much.”
“You were the brightest light at the convent, Marielle,” he told her. “I always knew you were destined for great things. True, you suffered much at the hands of the sisters there. I tried my best to get them to see you for the sweet child you were.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes. “I looked forward to your visits more than I could ever say, Your Grace.”
He chuckled. “I would rather you address me as Father Julien, Marielle. I miss him. That was a much simpler time in my life. I tried to do good everywhere I went and didn’t have to worry or be caught up in the politics of the Church.”
“You always had a kind word for me, Father. I remember how you would lead me away from the others and I was able to have you all to myself for a few minutes during each of your visits. You let me prattle on about things that must have seemed so unimportant to you.”
“You were a child of God, Marielle. Remember how the Christ said to his disciples to let the children come to Him and do not hinder them. Children are the purest of all of God’s creatures. You were honest and open and the sweetest of them all. How I hated when I rose in the ranks and could no longer come and visit with you. Sharing conversations with you all those years ago are some of my fondest memories.”
He squeezed her hands and finally released them. “And here you are now, ready to be wed to a good man.” He chuckled. “Even if he is an Englishman.”
Marielle almost burst with joy, thinking of how soon she would become Ashby’s wife. “Ashby is the best man I have known, next to you, Father Julien.”
“Well, if he is anything like his friend, Lord Montayne, then I know you will be in excellent hands. The earl saved my life.”
“And Ashby has saved mine,” she said fervently. “I love him with all my heart.”
“It is good to know that you have made a love match, my child. I hope
you will be blessed with an abundance children.” He paused. “Might we sit for a moment?”
“Of course,” she said.
They took seats and the cardinal said, “I have a final thing I wish to speak to you about. Arielle.”
A quick rush of pain rippled through her at the mention of her long-lost twin.
Father Julien took Marielle’s hands again. “You told me about her death once you learned to trust me.”
She nodded. “I never spoke to anyone about it but you. The sisters all knew Arielle’s death was the reason I had been sent to them. That I had caused it.”
“But you weren’t to blame,” he said softly.
“I was, Father. I dared Arielle to climb that tree. She was always terrified of heights but she did so to please me.” Her voice broke. “If only she had waited for me to return. I brought my brother. He could have helped her down. She didn’t need to die.”
“Oh, Marielle. Haven’t you realized after all this time that your twin’s death was an accident? You didn’t cause it. You didn’t force her or deliberately push her. These things happen.”
“But she did it for me. She always tried to please me. I was so selfish.”
“You were a small child. Yet you have carried this heavy burden of guilt around all your life.” He looked into her eyes with compassion. “You haven’t asked for it but I will give it to you all the same.”
“What?”
“Absolution. I want you to be free of the guilt. I have the power to exonerate you from it and I freely exercise it now, Marielle. I want you to be able to go and live your life with your husband with no worries. It was Arielle’s time to go home to Heaven. God called her there because He was ready for her to be with Him. He forgives you. I forgive you.
“And you must forgive yourself.”
Wrenching sobs erupted from her. Marielle buried her face in Father Julien’s chest. The cardinal spoke softly to her, soothing her, rubbing her back up and down until she calmed.
Looking up at him, she said, “It’s just that I have been given all these years that were taken from her.”
“Arielle has watched over you this entire time, my child. She watches over you now, Marielle. Go to your husband and live your life to the fullest, knowing you have Arielle’s approval and her forgiveness. Can you do so?”
Marielle had always felt responsible for her twin’s death. During the lonely years at the convent, she had grown to believe that everything bad that happened to her was her punishment for her role in her sister’s death. She continued to feel this after her marriage to Jean-Paul, believing she didn’t deserve any happiness because she had been responsible for Arielle’s life being cut short.
Forgiveness now was being offered to her. Though she had never officially confessed to this sin, Father Julien had absolved her.
Suddenly, a lightness filled her. It was as if the spirit of Arielle filled her, showering her with grace and mercy.
“I feel as if she is inside me, Father,” Marielle said through tears.
“She is. She has always been a part of you,” the priest assured her. “She will be with you until the end and greet you at Heaven’s gates.”
“Thank you,” she said, hugging him tightly. “For releasing me from my shame. I have blamed myself every day for Arielle’s loss and have regretted my actions.” She smiled. “You are helping me to make a fresh start, Father Julien.”
“I am happy to have done so, Marielle. Shall we go now and send you off into a new life?”
They rose and retreated to the chapel. Madeleine and Garrett stood together and would serve as their witnesses.
Ashby awaited her, pacing nervously, and when he caught sight of Marielle, a brilliant smile appeared on his handsome face. It took extreme willpower not to break away from Father Julien and run to him.
They reached Ashby and Garrett and Madeleine stepped toward them, standing on either side of them. Father Julien consulted with his scribe and then nodded.
“All is in order,” he shared. “Are you ready to begin the journey of your new lives together?”
Ashby entwined his fingers with hers. “We are,” he answered for the both of them.
As they faced one another and spoke their vows, Marielle felt the presence of Arielle within her and knew her twin gave her blessing to this union. A peace descended upon her. She promised herself to live life to the fullest and show Ashby every day how very much she loved him.
Epilogue
Newbury Manor, Sussex—3 months later
Ashby awoke, savoring the feel of his wife in his arms. As he did every morning, he offered up a swift prayer of gratitude to the Virgin Mary, thanking Her for bring Marielle into his life.
Cardinal Corot had actually accompanied them back to London in order to smooth the way for gifting his estate to Ashby and Marielle. While Lord and Lady Montayne and their children had returned to Stanbury, the cleric had taken the newlyweds to the English court, where he was received by the king and queen. Edward graciously allowed the cardinal to gift his large tract of land to Ashby and the official documents were drawn up giving him complete ownership of the manor house and surrounding acreage. After a short visit to see the Earl of Lambert, the cardinal’s half-brother, the trio went on to Newbury, where Ashby and Marielle were introduced to their tenants and household staff. He could never thank Father Julien enough for the magnanimous gesture. It gave him and Marielle a home and the income from their tenants would be ample to live on and was only fifteen miles to the southwest of Stanbury.
Ashby hadn’t bothered to write his older brothers of the changes in his circumstances. They’d lost touch many years earlier. He did, however, want to send word to Faylinn, his younger sister. They had always stayed in touch, with Ashby sending short messages to her several times a year. Faylinn, on the other hand, wrote pages to him every month. He’d almost finish composing his missive to her and would finish it this morning and send it to her at Mallowbourne in Somerset. She would be surprised to receive such a lengthy letter from him, detailing his good fortune. In it, he’d asked her to come and visit them at Newbury, so he could introduce Faylinn to Marielle. He hoped his sister would make the journey someday. She’d never had children and sounded lonely in her letters to him.
Marielle stirred and he kissed her awake, making love to her. He didn’t know if he could ever get enough of this woman—but it wouldn’t be from lack of trying.
Afterward, they lay together, their limbs entwined, Marielle stroking his arm lightly.
“I have something to tell you,” she said softly.
He kissed her hair. “That you love me madly?” he teased.
“You know I do. But I also love another.”
Her words slammed into him, bringing fear. He couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t. “Who is it?” he demanded angrily. “I’ll have his name.”
She chuckled. “I don’t know it.”
Now he was thoroughly confused.
“You don’t know it either,” she continued, a smile playing about her lips. “We haven’t talked about names before.”
It dawned on him what she meant.
“You’re with child?” he asked eagerly.
Marielle nodded and he showered her face with kisses, moving down to her bare belly and kissing it soundly.
Looking up at her, he said, “I understand what you mean. I’ve never met this babe—and yet I already love it fiercely.”
“Do you have any names you’re partial to?” she asked.
“Not really,” he said and considered it a moment, an idea coming to him. “If you carry a boy, we can decide on his name when we see him. But if it’s a girl, I think we should name her Arielle.”
Marielle burst into tears, burying her face against his chest. He drew her close, angry at himself that he’d upset her. Through her sobs, though, she began nodding.
Finally, she lifted her tearstained face to him. “Yes. It’s perfect.”
Ashby kissed away her tears. A
s he did, he said, “Our child is a promise of what our tomorrows will bring. Days lived together. In love.”
With that, he pressed a fervent kiss against her belly again, eager for their child to come into the world.
About the Author
Award-winning and international bestselling author Alexa Aston’s historical romances use history as a backdrop to place her characters in extraordinary circumstances, where their intense desire for one another grows into the treasured gift of love.
She is the author of Medieval and Regency romance, including The Knights of Honor, The King’s Cousins, The St Clairs, and The de Wolfes of Esterley Castle.
A native Texan, Alexa lives with her husband in a Dallas suburb, where she eats her fair share of dark chocolate and plots out stories while she walks every morning. She enjoys reading, Netflix binge-watching, and can’t get enough of Survivor, The Crown, or Game of Thrones.
Website
Newsletter Sign-Up
Facebook
Twitter
Email
BookBub
Amazon Author Page
Goodreads Author Page
