by Abby Ayles
“Just the same as it was when you asked me last, not five minutes ago.”
“I cannot help it,” Edmund said. “I wish this infernal ceremony would begin. What is it that we are waiting for?”
“Only for your guests to be seated and your delightful bride to prepare herself. Nothing of any importance,” Christopher replied with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“Well, they could sit down quicker, I think.”
“Hush, now, brother,” Christopher said, gripping his shoulder and squeezing. “Your bride approaches.”
Joanna appeared and began to walk down the aisle, and Edmund felt his heart fluttering against his ribs like a caged bird. It must have swollen at least ten times in size.
Joanna was radiant; a silver gown with pale blue trimmings decked her entire form, and matching silver slippers peeked out from beneath the hem with each step that she walked.
She was exquisite, a being not of this Earth, an angel that Edmund had no business deserving.
He watched her come with a lump in his throat that would not be cleared away, and if it were possible, he felt his love grow even further when she ducked her head shyly under his adoring gaze.
The ceremony seemed to pass by in a daze. Out in the pews were friends and relatives – Lord and Lady Castleford, she bearing the heavy belly of later pregnancy; the Haverhams, taking up their own red-headed row entirely; employees and partners at the company; their entire staff, except for Cook, who had insisted on staying behind to prepare a feast; cousins and nieces and nephews and aunts and uncles.
Even Joanna’s mother had made the trip, though they had had to send her the money for the coach.
Edmund realised with a start that the vicar was waiting patiently for him to say something, and snapped out of the reverie that had overcome him.
It was such a magical day that it seemed almost not to be happening.
“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,” he recited, slipping a ring onto Joanna’s finger.
Their eyes met with the kind of misty happiness that comes only from exquisite and delirious joy, and he knew that she felt as unreal as he did.
The gold band fitted perfectly onto her finger, and a cheer went up from the people in the church.
Edmund turned to exchange grins with Christopher and Samuel, visibly only as vague figures through the moisture that had gathered in his eyes.
“Come,” Edmund said to his new wife, interlacing his fingers with hers. “Let us sign the registry, Lady Kelt.”
Joanna gave a gasp of delight at the first mention of her new name, and followed him. Through their connected arms he felt a shaking in her that concerned him.
“Are you tired, my sweet? We can sit,” he offered.
“I am just so happy,” Joanna laughed. “I barely know how to exist.”
He laughed in return, and bent to place a kiss on her temple. His wife’s temple. The thought was a strange and yet completely right one.
The register having been signed, they retired from the village to Hardwicke Hall, where their esteemed guests had also been invited.
There, as promised, Cook had laid on a sumptuous breakfast of rolls, eggs, ham, bread, fish, tea, and other delectable foods. Crowning it all was a dense fruit cake that Cook had spent many hours slaving over, and which took pride of place in the centre of the table.
The congratulations were many, but Edmund soon brought a chair so that Joanna could sit; he could feel the weakness overcoming her again, and did not want her to tire out. Though she protested, he assured her that no one would think any the less.
Amy soon came to sit on Joanna’s lap, which was her accustomed place, and Patience even drew up a chair alongside them, once she had grown thoroughly tired of teasing the third Haverham son.
Their guests lingered for a few hours, eating and talking merrily. Christopher finally approached the happy couple as the celebrations were winding down, congratulating them once again on their marriage.
“Edmund, I have news of my own,” Christopher said, his eyes shining with happiness. “I ought to wait and let you have your day, but I fear it will burst out of me.
“I wrote a letter to Lady Juliana Reffern. It was a fool’s hope that she would reply with one of her own, but she did! A very formal and proper answer, as you can well imagine, but she agreed to my request to visit her.”
Edmund embraced his brother in congratulations. “I am most happy for you, Christopher. It is time that you settled down.”
“Settle down? No one mentioned anything about a proposal, dear brother. The lady simply agreed to meet with me,” Christopher said, but Edmund could tell settling down was not a prospect that truly bothered his brother anymore.
“Still,” he insisted, “a simple meeting is where the path of our destiny sometimes begins.”
“You talk like an old man,” Christopher laughed. “And only wed a matter of hours yourself!”
Edmund laughed along with him. “Christopher, you are unaware of the wisdom that was imparted to me by God the moment our hands were joined. I am sure you will know it too, when you are a grown man.”
Christopher gawped at his jibe. “Who is this man, and whither has my brother been taken?” he responded.
Edmund clapped him on the back. “Today, Christopher,” he said. “I have been replaced with a happy man. I hope that he shall stay for a long time to come.”
“That is my hope also,” Christopher said, giving him a genuine warmth that had been missing so often from their past.
“Are you ready to depart, my lord?” the coach driver asked, approaching them with Jenkins at his side.
“Quite ready, I suppose,” Edmund said, looking down at his wife for confirmation. “We have only to bid our guests farewell, and we can be on our way.”
“I am so jealous,” Patience complained. “You shall spend all your spring in Europe, and I am to be stuck here as always.”
“You’ll be here with me,” Christopher opined. “That is compensation enough.”
“I have already promised to take you abroad next year,” Edmund cut in, to prevent Patience from making harsh reply. “You shall have to make do with that, all of you.”
“But I shall die just thinking of Rome and Paris and the places you will go without me,” Patience sighed dramatically.
“Come, my lady wife,” Edmund said, ignoring Patience forthwith. “Shall we embark on our honeymoon?”
Joanna smiled up at him. “I gather that we shall,” she said, rising up gracefully to take his arm and begin the rest of their lives.
The Extended Epilogue
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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.
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The Odd Mystery of the Cursed Duke – Preview
Chapter 1
Lendenbarrow 1818
Days were beautiful at Balwell Manor, as beautiful as they had ever been. Summer had arrived and with it the warmth Beatrice had grown accustomed to since their move to the manor some four years before. There were no imposing buildings to block the sunshine and warm breezes. There was nothing but acres of green gardens and bright flowers.
Beatrice looked out her window as the sun rose above the horizon. It was the best time of day for her. The time of day when she had uninterrupted minutes to herself before she was inundated. She enjoyed the few moments as she stood in her shift, her long golden hair hung over her shoulder in a loose braid. Any moment there would be a knocking on her door. She could almost count the seconds to it.
The rapping began a heartbeat later and Beatrice smiled at the accuracy of the child. Matthew was better than any clock. He got up and came to wake her at the same time every day. Concepts such as holidays or Sundays mattered little to him. He knew, that once he woke, it was time to get his Aunt Beatrice.
She turned, her bare feet striding slowly to the light blue door with its gold leaf design painted along the border and trim. It matched those that lined the walls. The Earl of Wismoth, her sister's father-in-law, had spared no expense to ensure that his home lacked nothing in terms of elegance and detail. His wife, Lady Wismoth, had taken great care of the home in her life, and he had seen to its upkeep since her death.
The smile was already on her face as she turned the handle on the door and pulled it open. There stood her little man, his dark brown hair unkempt atop his head as he rubbed his eyes. He looked up at her sleepily and then stepped toward her with raised arms.
“Good morning, my sweet Matthew,” Beatrice said, as she kissed his cheek soundly before turning back into the room and shutting the door behind him. Matthew was a little over two-years-old now but he was a very determined child. His room was next to hers and because of it he always found his way to her whenever he wanted something.
“What are you doing about?” she questioned as she sat upon her bed and pulled Matthew onto her lap. He was still half asleep and would more than likely finish his rest in her bed before he was ready for the day.
Matthew didn't answer, instead, he clung to her neck and nestled into the crook of it. Yes, he was still very much in a state of sleep.
“Come, let’s get you back to bed,” she said as she leaned back against her pillows and pulled her nephew into her body. She played with his dark brown hair as he slowly drifted back to sleep. How she adored watching him rest. He was like an angel and caring for him was her heaven.
Beatrice had little in life. And once upon a time it used to matter, but now she had accepted her fate. Love was not for her. Marriage was a fantasy she had been blinded by for the past twenty-five years of her life and now she was finished with it. Her entire world was her sister, Helena, and her family. Beatrice needed nothing else, or so she told herself.
She remained in bed with Matthew for more than half an hour before she called up the maid to help her with her bath. Millicent, her chambermaid, brought up eight large buckets of heated water to fill the clawed bathtub in her washroom. Matthew was still asleep by the time it was ready.
Beatrice lay in the tub, soapy bubbles surrounding her, as she thought about her life. This was not what she had expected. And now with mother and father gone to Bath, she felt more and more out of place at Balwell Manor. There was so much here that reminded her of what she didn’t have.
Her mother and father had moved to Bath almost a year ago. Her father’s health, though improved since his release from prison after he was exonerated, had begun to decline once more. The physicians had recommended a change of air for the sake of his health and Bath had been their recommendation. The Earl of Wismoth had very kindly seen to their accommodations.
She wondered how they were. Letters came every few weeks but it still didn’t change the fact that they were no longer with her. She would have gone with them if Helena hadn’t needed her help at Balwell.
Helena’s pregnancy with Matthew had been an easy one, but several months later, when she became pregnant with Elizabeth, things were not so. Elizabeth was more temperamental than her older brother and Helena’s sickness had been significant. Beatrice had stayed to see to the house and her sister’s care. She would not have them hire a woman to do what she could for her own family.
After her bath, and getting Matthew ready, she took her nephew for a walk in the gardens before breakfast. It was only eight in the morning and breakfast would not be ready for another hour.
Matthew liked the outdoors, just like his mother, and Beatrice loved to watch him play. He ran amongst the topiaries while she chased him. It was the only time she got to laugh and she enjoyed it thoroughly. He had the gift of erasing all her worries.
“Good morning,” she said with a smile as she and Matthew walked into the dining room. Breakfast was already laid for them, clotted cream and preserves, fresh bread and some slices of ham. The Earl, her brother-in-law's father, was seated with his usual cup of coffee already cradled in his hand.
Matthew ran to his grandfather. “Poppa!”
“Good morning,” he replied with a smile. “You look very well today. I see the two of you have been out in the gardens.”
Beatrice smiled at the way the Earl and his grandson greeted one another. The Earl pulled Matthew into his arms, setting him on his lap. He nuzzled the small boy playfully and himself became as a child again. It was beautiful to watch.
“Where are Helena and Elias?" she questioned as she took a seat beside him.
The Earl’s eyes and arms were occupied but he did look up to answer her. “Elias and your sister will be down shortly,” he informed her. “I believe little Elizabeth did not give her parents very much sleep last night.”
Beatrice smiled. “She is a very spirited girl, just like her mother.”
The Earl smirked. “Indeed.”
Beatrice plucked a sourdough roll from the basket and broke it in two. She spread one side with raspberry preserves and the other with clotted cream before sandwiching them together once more. She took a big bite.
“Some tea, Miss?” Nellie, the new housemaid inquired as she held the pot for her.
“Thank you,” Beatrice replied politely with a smile. The girl was young, seventeen at best, but she had already worked in several good homes.
The girl poured her tea and then excused herself. The Earl was still playing with Matthew, his breakfast completely forgotten for the moment. Beatrice took another bite of her roll.
“Good morning, Father,” Helena said several minutes later as she walked into the room. She kissed the Earl’s cheek before her son laid hold of her gown.
“Good morning, my darling.” Helena kissed Matthew’s forehead as she lifte
d him into her arms, setting him on her hip.
“Helena,” Beatrice said with a smile as her sister came toward her.
“Good morning, Bea,” her sister replied as she kissed Beatrice's cheek also. “You look very well this morning.”
Why was everyone saying that? Did she not usually look well? Beatrice wondered but didn’t voice the question. She sipped her tea instead.
"Good morning to all," Elias said enthusiastically as he entered the room with a broad smile. Clearly, his infant daughter had not disturbed him very much.
