by Fiona Miers
She was the epitome of a dream come true for William, despite their unfavorable first meeting. But as his sister-in-law had advised, the best kind of love was that which pulls the rug from under you.
One might fall flat on one’s bottom, but it certainly did make an impact.
Emma had certainly made an impact on William, and he would be forever grateful that he had her in his life.
“Marriage is 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,” Captain Moore continued, and both Emma and William glanced at their two witnesses, who stood quietly behind them, smiling happily.
“That is certainly good news,” Captain Moore chuckled in a thick Scottish accent. “It has happened far too many times that a family member has stopped one of the ceremonies I performed. I am certainly guessing that is why none of my lady and my lord’s family are present.”
William shook his head. “Ah, no, Captain.”
Both William and Emma had been saddened by the fact that none of their family members had been able to join them on their special day, but they did not wish to risk the duchess traveling far, as she now large was with child.
Instead they had decided they would have an intimate family gathering when they returned home, where they would all be able to celebrate together.
“Please, do continue, Captain,” Emma said simply, with a faint smile.
“Certainly, certainly,” Captain Moore nodded and cleared his throat. “William Alexander Seymour, will thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Will thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” William answered and smiled at the woman who would soon be his wife.
“Emma Caroline Carlyle, will thou have this man to be thy wedded husband? To live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Will thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” Emma answered with a smile, her eyes sparkling with delight.
“My lord, please take my lady’s right hand with yours,” the captain said and William did as he was told. “My lord, you may now say your vows to her ladyship.”
William took a moment to smile at Emma, then began.
“I, William Alexander Seymour, take thee to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward. For better for worse, for richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish. Till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth,” William spoke with confidence and sincerity.
“Now, my lady, you shall do the same,” the Captain told her.
Emma nodded and took his right hand in hers. “I, Emma Caroline Carlyle, take thee William Alexander Seymour to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold from this day forward. For better for worse, for richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. To love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part. According to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”
There was a moment of silence as they loosened their hands and William retrieved a ring that had been in his family for generations.
He had kept it on his person since the day he had asked Emma to marry him, knowing that he would most certainly need it one day.
Perhaps he had been overly confident, but he did not care now.
That was why it had come as such a surprise when Emma had been the one who had asked him, while gazing out at a picturesque sky on their last night in Edinburgh, whether he would still consider marrying her. He agreed without a moment’s hesitation, as it was what he had wanted for a long time.
Emma’s eyes widened momentarily as the sparkling blue jewel – the color of the ocean – glistened in the light. He took her hand and slowly slid it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. “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.”
“If you both shall kneel,” the Captain ordered.
William was the first to kneel and offered his hand of assistance to Emma, which she accepted.
“Let us pray,” the Captain said and closed his eyes. “Oh, Eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life: Send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this man, and this woman, whom we bless in thy Name; that, as Isaac and Rebecca lived faithfully together, so these persons may surely perform and keep the vow and covenant betwixt them made, whereof this ring was given and received is a token and pledge, and may ever remain in perfect love and peace together, and live according to thy laws; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
William opened his eyes and gazed directly into Emma’s sparkling eyes, and could not help but smile at her.
“Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder,” the Captain said and placed his hands on each of the couple’s shoulders. “For as much as Eliza and William have declared their love and devotion, as well as their consent together in holy wedlock, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
William and Emma stood from the ground and turned to Captain Moore.
“My lord, my lady, may God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and keep you both. May the Lord mercifully with his favor look upon you, and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting,” the captain concluded and stepped away.
“Thank you, Captain Moore,” they said in unison,
“My lady,” William said and took her hands in his. “If I have not said it today, I have not gazed upon true beauty until this day.”
“There is no need to flatter me. I have already married you,” Emma chuckled, and William joined in her amusement.
“I do mean it, Emma. I am truly grateful that you have given me a chance to show you how much you mean to me.”
“And it means a great deal to me that you freed me into making decisions. For allowing me to be myself, and to discover who I was meant to be. It means the world to me that you stood aside and allowed me to feel free for the first time in my life,” Emma told him.
“My love, you will never feel caged again, I will not allow it,” William whispered. “And I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life beside you, wherever that may be.”
Emma smiled happily as she led him to the stern of the boat and gazed out at the horizon. “Our next stop will be Denmark, and then,” Emma grinned, “the rest of our lives.”
“I would not have it any other way, my lady,” William replied, cradling her face with both his hands and kissing her with a heart bursting of gratitude, love, and happiness.
The End
Book 1 in the Seymour Siblings is now available! https://geni.us/seymourbook1
Read on for a sneak peak of the first chapter if you haven’t read it already.
Marrying her Best-Friend
By Fiona Miers
Book 3 in the Seymour Siblings series.
Foreword
For fictional purposes I took some liberties with Welsh/English history.
1
Despite the elegant ambiance in the large ballroom, an unsettled feeling remained rooted inside the pit of Elizabeth Seymour’s stomach.
She didn’t care what people thought of her, or her brother’s�
�the Duke of Somerset—heroic and somewhat violent attempt to ensure that her reputation was left intact. But Lizzie still heard the whispers and felt the reluctance of the people around her as they glanced at her. They were cautious to engage in conversation with her, which made no sense.
Were they perhaps under the impression that promiscuity was contagious? Or perhaps the shame of being in the company of such a light-skirted woman threatened their reputations.
Whatever the reason, Lizzie lifted her chin and pointedly ignored their ambiguous stares and forced smiles. Instead, she proceeded along the length of the decadent ballroom belonging to the Marquess and Marchioness of Wealing.
She was no longer interested in trivial and mindless chatter from people who didn’t make time to know her. She didn’t appreciate anyone who was not sincere at this moment in time, when she needed it the most. And thanks to what she had gone through, she would, indeed, value that strength of spirit for the rest of her days.
Today she had received a letter from her older brother, Will. He and Emma had married suddenly on a ship heading towards the port of Elsinore in Denmark. It had been an unbelievable romance between Will and Emma. When they had first met, they could not tolerate even being in the same room together. Somehow, the stars aligned and love prevailed when Will made a grand gesture by boarding the train Emma was on at the very last minute and joining her on her journey to Edinburgh.
Admittedly, Woodlock Manor had been quiet since her boisterous brother had departed, and while her brother James and his wife Kitty prepared for the birth of their child, Lizzie had little to do but quietly wander about the estate.
She had assisted Kitty with trips to town and selecting furniture for the nursery, and as much as Lizzie appreciated that the duchess had included her in these tasks, she could not help but feel as though she was intruding. Of course, Kitty had assured her many times that this was not the case, but she still was not convinced. James’s wife was simply being her polite and sweet self.
Lizzie would most certainly not admit it to anyone, but she was lonely, and as she was the last of her siblings still unmarried, she felt as though she would have been a disappoint to her parents if they were still alive.
Despite being the youngest Seymour sibling, she had always been convinced she would be the first to matrimonial bliss. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined her tight-lipped eldest brother the duke, and her rake of an older brother would marry before she would.
And love matches, at that!
“My lady!” a familiar male voice beside her suddenly called out, removing her from the sombre cloud of self-contempt she had fluttered her way inside.
Lizzie turned to her right and a smile formed on her lips as she glanced at Mr. Carson Wallace, who stood there, appearing very dashing in his formal wear. She’d known Carson for a very long while, as his family resided in the estate neighbouring Woodlock Manor.
They had spent many summer days in the estate gardens playing as children. Despite his father not bearing a title, the Wallace family was noble in their own right. A very influential and important family, whose wealth spanned as far as their influence.
Carson’s mother had separated from his father under rather scandalous circumstances and forsaken Somerset, which left the young Master Wallace feeling rather abandoned. Luckily, he’d found solace in Lizzie’s company, and would often sneak through a hole in the wall separating the two estates, concealed by thick vines of ivy and foliage.
His father didn’t care much that he spent time with Lizzie and would often visit to have tea with her parents while their children played in the garden.
Carson had been a good friend to Lizzie, but as soon as he had reached the age of thirteen, he’d befriended her brother Will, preferring his male company. Lizzie hadn’t seen him as much after that and if she tried to join them, Will would shoo her away.
“Carson,” Lizzie greeted cheerfully, delighted so have someone to speak with who didn’t force his smiles. “How lovely it is to see you.”
“And you, my lady,” Carson reciprocated and softly kissed her hand. “You’re dressed very formally this evening.”
“We are in the presence of nobility.” Lizzie grinned.
Carson chuckled and his light green gaze met with hers. “Would you care to dance?”
“You are well aware that once we start, I will not be able to stop. Your dancing is enchanting, and difficult to cut short,” Lizzie admitted. “And one can only dance so much.”
“Who told you such a ridiculous thing?” Carson scoffed with amusement.
“Apparently everything has a limit before it becomes unnecessary and trivial,” Lizzie answered bitterly, then forced a smile to her lips. She didn’t want to place a damper on her conversation with Carson. He was not the cause of her frustration, nor did she wish to involve him in her woes.
Carson gazed even more intently at her and cocked his head. “Is everything all right, Lizzie?”
“Everything is fine, Carson. How are you? Have you been doing anything interesting?” she inquired, desperate to shift the topic of conversation.
“If listening to carpenters hammering in the manor house is considered interesting, then indeed,” Carson answered with a chuckle.
“That is right. You are having the library redone after the rains of the winter. I had forgotten about that,” Lizzie answered with a smile. “How is everything progressing?”
“Too slow for my liking,”
“You have always been such a patient man.” Lizzie sighed and placed her hand on his.
Carson lowered his gaze for a moment, then glanced back at Lizzie, his eyes suddenly changing. She wasn’t certain what happened in that moment, but her heart began to pound in her chest as Carson’s light green gaze consumed her. Her skin tingled under his touch and she removed her hand from his.
“Thank you for the offer, Carson,” Lizzie managed to say as she caught her breath. “Perhaps in a while. I must first visit the powder room.”
“Very well. But I will seek you out if a while becomes too long,” Carson answered with a charming smile and a hint of amusement in his tone.
Lizzie cocked her head to the side and glanced at him for a moment before she turned away. She made her way through the ballroom, passing the curious gazes of the other guests.
She simply ignored the ominous feeling that clawed its way to the surface. Instead of allowing it to negatively affect her, she held her head high and proceeded to the powder room. There was no one inside, much to her relief. She stared at herself in the mirror that was perched on a low mantel.
Tears threatened to make their appearance, and Lizzie pressed her lips firmly together to stop them.
Her brow furrowed when she recalled the strange feeling she’d experienced when she touched Carson’s hand. She had been hiding her adoration for Carson for most of her life, and it had become such a habit to her, that the sudden surge of emotions felt rather strange.
She couldn’t allow herself to love him any more than she already did, as he had never shown any sign that he reciprocated her feelings. And the last thing Lizzie wanted was to lose the only person who truly believed she was still good inside, and not the monster everyone else in Somerset thought she was.
Monster may be a strongly worded term, but their stares and whispers made her feel as such. An abomination to her gender.
She drew in a slow breath, gathering her strength to push through the remainder of the evening. She couldn’t wait until she was safely ensconced in the confines of her bedchambers, where no judgment was passed, and she was able to breathe freely.
Lizzie lightly touched her hair and brushed a loose tendril from her cheek. While she gathered her courage to face the guests in the ballroom once more, she smoothed the skirt of her dress and drew in one last breath before leaving the powder room.
The guests in the ballroom had carried on as though she had never left, or perhaps as though she didn’t exist. She sauntered towards the refres
hment table, and as she passed a group of women, she heard their words, which cut deeply, like swords through her flesh.
“I saw her earlier with Carson, practically undressing the poor man with her eyes.”
“Such a promiscuous woman.”
“The only reason Lord Dorset publicly admitted the tales were untrue was because His Grace paid him to do so.”
“Perhaps we should ask her.”
“Lizzie,” Lady Margaret’s pitchy voice called out to her, and despite every cell in her body begging her not to respond, she slowly turned around. Lady Margaret and her group of young women were glaring directly at her.
“Yes, Lady Margaret?” Lizzie inquired, forcing a smile.
“Do you have a moment to spare? There is something we must ask you,” Margaret answered, with no regard for correct forms of address.
Margaret was the daughter of a duke, as Lizzie was, but Lady Margaret considered herself a much higher rank and class. She was a spoiled young woman who only used people as she saw fit in order to obtain what she wished, and threw her father’s fortune in everyone’s faces.
“And what might that be?” Lizzie inquired.
“How much did your brother pay Lord Dorset to inform everyone that the tales he told of you were untrue?” Margaret asked, and her group of cronies giggled behind her.
Lizzie’s eyes narrowed, but she would not allow these women to upset her.
“Perhaps you should stop pretending that you are such a saint, Lady Margaret. We all know what activities you and Lord Niall partake in the stables.” Lizzie sighed.
Lady Margaret raised a brow at her and crossed her arms. “And this comes from a woman who spends more time on her back than anyone in Somerset.”
“As opposed to bent over a hay bale?” Lizzie countered.
Lady Margaret expelled a gasp and shook her head. “Is Carson aware of your dalliances? Surely, he would not want you if he were to find out about you and Lord Quinton. His mother—”
