A Broken Heart's Redemption

by Abby Ayles

  She looked around the room. Her eyes landed on a familiarly rugged face with skin ever so slightly more tanned than the other guests. He had not spotted her.

  Slowly, she approached him, second-guessing her every step, wondering how he would react to her presence, to what she had to say... Resting a hand on his shoulder, she felt him jump as he looked at her, as though he had seen a ghost.

  “Lucy?” he asked in slight disbelief.

  She nodded and smiled.

  “Why are you here? Have you reconsidered?” he asked, his voice beginning to take on a hopeful tone, the corners of his lips curling up, his green eyes twinkling.

  “Not exactly,” she replied, “I would like to speak to you about this in private.”

  Lord Jones paused, then nodded and smiled. He folded his newspaper and placed his half-finished coffee on top of it. Then he stood up, put on his hat, and followed Lucy out of the pub door, into the hotel, and into the empty corridor which led to the bedrooms.

  Once they were alone together she took a deep breath. This was it. “Back at the convent,” she began, “Sister Elisabeth said to me that in my heart of hearts I would know what was the right thing to do. And I suppose I always have known what the right thing to do was, but I've always turned to other people to give me a reason to not do what I knew to be right.”

  Lord Jones nodded sternly.

  “And I believe you are doing the same thing. Seeking any excuse to avoid doing the right thing, to stick to your convictions even when they have been proven wrong,” Lucy continued.

  “Where are you going with this?” Lord Jones asked, looking a little perplexed. “Do you not want to be at the convent? Would you... would you like to come home with me? Or... run away with me?”

  Lucy shook her head. “All my life I have been indecisive. I have waited for others to decide for me, to give me a suggestion or a command I could follow. But I should have been making my own decisions. And I am ready to make a decision right now. And that decision has nothing to do with what you want from me, or what my parents want. It is not what has been suggested to me, or commanded of me by society at large. It is what I know to be good, and godly, and the right choice for me.” She could feel her hands sweating and shaking.

  “You need to say what it is if you want me to know,” Lord Jones said, clearly as eager to hear it as she was to say it.

  “Seeing as you will never ask me to marry you,” Lucy drew a deep breath, “Lord Andrew Jones, would you be my husband?”

  “I... I cannot, Lucy,” Lord Jones replied, stammering a little. “I am not ready to marry, I doubt I ever shall be.”

  “But it is the right thing to do,” Lucy replied. “You desire me, and I desire you. God made man and woman to be one flesh. And for that we must marry. Why deny ourselves and the world the goodness which would come from our union? We are not martyrs. We do not need to be. We could be lovers. We could be examples.”

  Lord Jones shook his head slowly. But he did not go anywhere. He was awkward, shy, vulnerable... His loving core was exposed to her yet again. And she loved it. It was raw perfection. Everything she wanted in a man she found in him: he was strong, yet loving, resilient yet vulnerable, cynical yet tender. He was the perfect balance of everything she needed.

  “You were afraid of marriage because, like me, you did not feel you could trust women, or marriage. But I am not asking you to trust women or marriage. I am asking you to trust me. Do you trust me?” Lucy asked, clasping his hand tightly.

  “I do. I do trust you,” he replied, his face flushing bright red. “And I shall marry you. You insane woman.”

  Lucy felt her heart beat speed up even more, so fast she was not sure if she was dying, or living for the first time in years. She looked into his eyes and felt an appreciative tear trickle out of the corner of hers and glide down her face.

  He grinned, his free hand rising to stroke her cheek so gently, so tenderly... She sighed. When he needed her to be strong, she was there for him to lean on. And when she was weak, he was there for her to lean on. It was a match made in heaven. And now it could be made real. Now she could be his forever.

  His lips locked with hers and she briefly wondered what anyone would think if they walked in. What would they would make of a well-dressed unmarried gentleman, standing in a hotel hallway, kissing a young woman in a nun's habit?

  A half second later she did not care. It was not about what others might think or judge. Not about what they think she ought to do, or what they would do in her situation. It was about her, and him, and what was right. This was the right thing to do.

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Leaving the convent was done with a heavy heart, but a huge weight lifted off her mind. Lucy loved and appreciated Sister Elisabeth for all the wisdom she had given. But Lucy also knew that she did not belong there. She had thanked the Sisters from the bottom of her heart for their support and love, but declared that she needed to take her leave, and marry Lord Jones. A few Sisters had cast cold glances her way, but Lucy remembered Sister Elisabeth's words and thought nothing of them. Everyone would have their own perspective, but she was following her own path.

  Back at home, the rage had not even started regarding her alleged affair with Lord Jones. Clara had been found down a hallway with a married gentleman and her reputation was quite in tatters. The last anyone had heard from her was that Edmund had ended the engagement as soon as he found out and that Clara had returned home to her parents in London. Lucy felt a little sorry for Clara, but also a deep sense of relief that the girl had received a taste of her own medicine.

  Lord and Lady Fitzgerald breathed the world's heaviest sigh of relief when they saw their daughter come home with an eligible young man who was asking for her hand in marriage. Lady Fitzgerald confessed that she had never liked the idea of Lucy becoming a nun, and Lord Fitzgerald agreed that the life of a good wife to a Baron would suit her far better. Even Antoinette and Mary seemed fairly unsurprised by her decision. After all, it was true that they had guessed it from the beginning.

  Across the village the news spread like wildfire. Rumours of Lucy and Lord Jones's indecency transformed into rumours of their true tale of star-crossed love, and Clara's wicked attempts to drive them apart. They were becoming their very own fairytale in the eyes of the public.

  Ordinarily Lucy would have rejected all of this just to spite society, to prove she was not what they expected of her. She would have turned against them, denied everything they said, and fought their urge to turn everything into an idealized, unreasonably perfect romance. But defying society was no better than adhering strictly to its norms. Far better to just do whatever suited her best, and move on from there. She was simply pleased to know that the man she had grown to love so dearly would finally be all hers.

  And if people wished to turn her love into a fairy tale? That was fine as well. People needed hopes and dreams to cling onto. People needed to be inspired to do better, to follow the path set out for them, to believe in one another. And if a fairy tale was what it took to make them do so, then she would happily become a fairy tale.

  More aware of the actual challenges she had overcome, and the ones which inevitably lay ahead, Lucy knew that her life was going to change. But there was a comforting sensation that for once it would all change for the better. It could not go wrong with Lord Jones by her side.

  Despite being a cold Spring morning, the sun rose on her wedding day so bright that it hurt her eyes as the curtains were flung open and the maids began to rush around her, ensuring she was awake and properly groomed in time. She blinked and rolled over in bed, grumbling about all the noise, before remembering what day it was and sitting bolt upright.

  “I'm getting married,” she said, feeling stunned and excited.

  Lucy rushed to her mirror where she began gently combing her hair and the maids crowded around her, preparing to assist her with her makeup.

  She had kept her hair cut short, much to her mot
her's despair and Lord Jones's delight, and it was teased into slight waves and to be adorned with a crown of snowdrops for the big event. Her lips were stained pink and shone beautifully with a slight dab of honey balm, and her cheeks were brushed with a gentle flush of rose. She looked like a little pixie princess, and she had never felt more magical, nor more beautiful.

  “You look so sweet,” a maid sighed, “if only you had not cut your hair.”

  Lucy laughed. “I look wonderful with and without my hair,” she replied with a confidence which came from her heart, not just her head. She believed her words wholeheartedly.

  Being laced into her stunning white dress, decorated with pearls, made her feel like a real Lady, a true member of high society... which she would be, of course, once she was a married woman. It was odd to think how her class would not change at all, but the entire world would change for her. She would have much more freedom to do as she pleased. And she did not fear it. She relished the idea. Slipping on her dainty white slippers, she felt her transformation complete. She was the very picture of bridal beauty.

  Walking outside she saw her coach and almost fainted from how resplendent it was. It was white, decorated with accents in gold and black, and laden with every sort of Winter flower, berry, and green that existed, from pinches of Holly to diminutive nodding daffodils.

  “What do you think?” Lady Fitzgerald asked, grabbing her daughter's hand and squeezing it in excitement.

  “It is perfect,” Lucy replied breathlessly.

  It amazed her that her mother had managed to remember every minute detail she had requested for her fairytale wedding as a little girl. The ornate coach and the white horses, the delicate flowers built on top of one another into overwhelming displays of natural beauty... But there had been no roses.

  The flowers which had been chosen were the ones only available in Winter and Spring. Lucy had had the option of choosing fake flowers, or of waiting until summer to marry, but it did not feel right to her.

  She wanted to marry soon, and if she had a Winter wedding, she wished to be surrounded by the sort of flowers which bloomed in the icy adversity of the season. Like her, they defied the odds and rose triumphant above the ice. They were no worse for wear, they did not need to wait for the cold to dissipate. They simply pushed through and coexisted with the harshness of Winter.

  Despite the extravagance of the ceremony, there would be no after party, and no lunch. The wedding would take place in the early hours of the morning, and be a fairly simple affair, followed by breakfast. However much she wanted an elaborate fairytale wedding fit for a princess, Lucy was also sensitive to her parents' financial needs and her guests' time pressures. She simply wished for a small gathering to witness her union with Lord Jones. That would do.

  Her parents were there, as were Antoinette and Duke Perry, Mary and Duke Haskett, and Thomas and Julia. She had extended an invitation to Sister Elisabeth, though she could only hope that her dear friend would arrive. The Prince and Princess had politely declined their invitation as they were leaving for the Winter, but asked her to visit as and when she pleased once they were back. Overall, Lucy was content that those she loved would be able to be there, even if the ceremony was not an overblown regal affair with a hundred attendants.

  The great stone church was decorated with sleek white ribbons and the same bright Winter blooms outside, and walking up the steps she felt a genuine sense of awe. She could head the music as she walked in. Standing just behind the second pair of doors, she wanted to peer out down the aisle, but held back. She wanted to really savour the sights and sounds for the first time, to take it all in at once. She walked around the corner, where her father and her sweet little bridesmaids, Mary and Antoinette's daughters, waited for her.

  The little girls let out gasps of admiration. Lilly, now aged three, muttered “you are so pretty Miss Fitzgerald”, and Bea, although she was not yet speaking, babbled in the same happy, conspiratorial tone, and stuck her hand in the basket of flowers.

  “I'll help her walk,” Lilly said with a reassuring nod to Lucy, nodding and taking Bea's hand firmly.

  “Thank you,” Lucy replied with a smile. “I am sure you shall both do an admirable job as flower girls.”

  The two girls beamed and peeked out at the aisle, as though awaiting their cue.

  Her father held out his arm for her. She could tell from the hints of redness in his eyes that he had cried, but she knew that he would manage to avoid crying anymore until he was home and in private again. She slipped her fingers into the crook of his elbow and patted his arm comfortingly. “Thank you, father, for everything,” she said with a smile.

  He nodded, clearly holding back some tears. “I knew life would turn out in your favour, Lucy, but I am so proud of you,” he replied.

  The music abruptly changed tone, and Lucy ushered the two girls out to the bottom of the aisle, where they began reaching their little fists carefully into the basket, seizing flowers and lifting them up high.

  As Lucy stepped out, the flower girls cast early tiny daffodils and snowdrops in front of her, creating a luscious carpet of late Winter flowers that felt as light and airy as clouds beneath her feet. Although the church was far from crowded, Lucy's heart lifted as she saw that nearly everyone they had invited was in attendance. Save the Prince and Princess, all their closest friends and relatives were there, watching her walk down the aisle.

  She could see that her mother was weeping and yet almost laughing at the same time, she was so happy. Antoinette smiled with an expression of deep satisfaction. Duke Perry and Sister Elisabeth looked on with the same warm affection as Lucy's father had directed towards her earlier. Mary and Duke Haskett looked at peace and proud of her.

  And Lord Jones, standing at the top of the aisle, looked more than a little nervous, even though he tried to hide it. He was smarter than she had ever seen him before, his suit almost as gleaming as her dress, his cravat a stunning shade of emerald green which brought out the brightness of his eyes, and only somewhat concealed his blushing cheeks and slightly nervous smile.

  Nevertheless, with each step she took closer to him she could see the love and raw desire in his eyes. And she knew that she was looking at him with that same combination of awe, affection, and raw, primal need.

  Lucy felt her heartthrob for this perfect man. This man who understood her, and loved her, and allowed her to love him in her own way. This man she found to be unbelievably handsome, and who found her to be stunningly beautiful, no matter what she wore or did to her hair. She wanted nothing more than to spend every single day by his side.

  As she joined him, he took her hands and gazed deeply into her eyes, his green ones warm with love and passion, her face reflected in his pupils.

  “You are breathtakingly beautiful,” he whispered to her as they came face to face for the first time in almost a week. “And in a matter of minutes, you shall be all mine.”

  Lucy sighed and gripped his hands firmly. “And you shall be mine. Forever and ever.”

  “Dearly beloved,” the priest began, “we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men.

  “It was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name.

  “It was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”<
br />
  And just like that, it was nearly done...

  It was a little bit scary to know they were embarking on this journey wholly unprepared. But Lucy knew that whatever happened, they would make it work. That was what they did. They stared reality square in the face and made it work in their favour. And they would continue to do so, now as one, rather than as two.

  Lord Jones picked up the ring, gazing into her eyes. She once again felt as though he held her heart in his hands, or had transplanted it into his own chest, where it would beat forever beside his own.

  She watched every movement of his lips keenly, as he recited his lines. “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.”

  As Andrew slipped the ring onto her finger and they were proclaimed Lord and Lady, she stepped closer to him, perhaps less daintily than she should have, and gazed into his eyes. He bowed down and pressed his lips softly against hers.

  Of course she still did not believe in fairy tales. They were ridiculous fantasies told to children. But that didn't mean she should not try her best to live her own one, did it?

  The Extended Epilogue

  The Lady The Duke and The Gentleman

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