Lily George (24 page)

“Now, we must plan for the wedding—and decide what you shall wear,” Sophie pronounced as she grabbed a plate from the tea tray, filling it with chocolate biscuits. “With your coloring, I rather think something in a yellow or perhaps in gold would look very well. Do you still have all my gowns from Bath?”

“No,” Lucy choked on a sob. Her head was whirling. There was no longer any impediment to marrying James Rowland. Why, it was all over. If he but asked her again she could say yes. Freely and happily—yes. And they would be together. And she would never be alone again.

“Gracious, what happened to them? Never mind. I have a gold gown here that will do quite nicely. We may have to make some adjustments, for I made it for Hattie, and she is taller than you. But she’s increasing, and it will no longer fit her. I think we shall do very well with the gold and perhaps a few ribbons woven into your hair?”

Whatever was Sophie talking about? “Of what importance is my appearance at your wedding? What does it matter what I wear? All eyes will be on you.” She took a deep, steadying breath.

“Because Ensign Rowland will be there, silly.”

Lucy raised her eyes to her friend’s face, unsure she had heard aright.

Sophie chuckled at Lucy’s expression. “Yes, it’s true. All the veterans have been invited. Charlie wrote to James quite a while back, insisting that he come to the wedding, as well. So, you see? ’Tis of utmost importance that you look your best.” Sophie passed the plate of biscuits to Lucy. “First, you must eat something. I vow you’ve grown thinner since I left Bath, and you’ve gotten all wobbly since reading Mrs. Rowland’s letter. Eat all these biscuits, and then we will go upstairs and try on gowns.”

Lucy bit into one of the biscuits, like a well-behaved child obeying her mother. They were delicious. Of course, his lordship always employed good cooks, but the cook here at Brookes Park must be quite extraordinary. The biscuits were so light that they melted in one’s mouth.

“Rose will be pleased to see you eating so hearty.” Sophie smiled, filling her plate. “We’ll fatten you up before the wedding for sure.”

“But it’s only two days away,” Lucy protested. “Surely there’s no time—”

Sophie rolled her eyes merrily. “Not my wedding, you goose. Your wedding. Come, bring the biscuits with you, and I shall bring mine along, too. I am in a fever to get to those dresses. We shall make you an incomparable, for certain.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

S
t. Mary’s was in Crich, just a few miles away from Tansley Village, and the wedding ceremony filled the little country church to overflowing. James recognized many of his fellow men from the veterans’ group as he approached the chapel. He nodded and smiled in passing but did not stop for conversation. He was a man on a mission. He had eyes for only one person—and thus far, she seemed not to have arrived.

He ducked inside the chapel, but Lucy’s dark curls and wide, laughing brown eyes did not materialize within the crowd. There was nothing to do but wait. He’d promised himself that he would be patient and not press his suit as he had before but blast it all. He’d waited an eternity for this day, and it was finally here.

“Excuse me, Ensign,” a familiar voice piped up behind him. He whirled around to see Louisa Bradbury standing there, a knowing grin pasted on her young face.

“How d-do you d-d-do, Miss Louisa.” He bowed.

She bobbed a quick curtsy and leaned forward. “Lucy just finished helping Sophie dress. There’s a little side room over there,” she whispered urgently, flailing her hand over toward the side of the church. “She’s there now.”

He nodded, giving her a conspiratorial grin. “Thank you,” he murmured. Then he strode off in the direction she’d indicated. Stepping just inside the back of the church, he caught a glimpse of Lucy. In the dim light of the hallway, she shimmered in a captivating gold dress, her abundant chestnut locks swept up and bound with ribbons. The sight of her took his breath away, and he could only gasp. “L-Lucy.”

She turned, regarding him, her almond-shaped eyes growing wider. “James.”

“I need t-to t-t-talk with you.” Again, the urgency. He had to calm himself—to approach her as he would a skittish colt. He’d behaved so badly before. This time, he must do everything right. “When and where c-can we m-meet?”

Behind Lucy, a door opened and Sophie stuck her head ’round the door frame, wreathed in a bridal veil. “She can speak with you now,” she replied merrily. “There’s a little room on the other side that the reverend uses as an office. I believe it’s open.”

Lucy whirled around to look at Sophie. “We might miss the ceremony. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Go on.” Sophie waved her gloved hand. Then she ducked back into the dressing room and shut the door firmly.

James took a deep breath. Calm and steady.
Show her how far you’ve come.
He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

She took his elbow and a jolt of warmth ran up his arm at her touch. How he’d missed her. He couldn’t make a hash of things now, not when he was so close. He led her through the back hallway to another room, which must be the office. Just like Sophie had indicated, it was open and deserted. Almost as if it had been left for the two of them. He led Lucy inside. “Do you mind if I c-close the d-door? I wish to speak to you p-privately.”

“No, not at all.” If it weren’t for her white face and troubled eyes, her bright, false tone could have been a cheery response to some mundane question. No—Lucy knew what was coming. And somehow, that made it all the more difficult for him to form the right words.

“Lucy....” He paused and closed the door. “I d-don’t suppose you received a letter from my mother.”

She swallowed, then ran her tongue nervously over her lips. “I did.”

“G-good.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I have to t-t-tell you something. You’ve m-m-made me the m-man I am. I’ll never forget the d-d-day that we met, and I walked you back to the C-Crescent. You s-s-see, up until that d-day, I had been wrapped in c-cotton wool. Everything was d-d-dull and g-g-gray. Even sounds, ordinary s-sounds, were m-muffled. I lived in fear and c-c-cowardice after W-Waterloo.”

She nodded slowly, her dark eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

“But you c-cared enough about me to ask if I wanted to be healed. And then you w-worked with me and encouraged m-me, even when I acted like an idiot. B-Because of you, the c-c-cotton wool fell away. I began to earn a l-living with my own hands. I took my p-place as head of my family. You d-did this, Lucy. Without you, I would still be the m-man I was—and I shudder to recall those d-days.”

He rifled in his pocket, withdrawing a small wooden box. Conviction, strong as a river, flowed through his being as he held the box in his hand. “I finally had the c-c-courage to s-s-speak up to my m-mother, and to tell her the t-truth of what you’ve d-d-done for me. And she’s withdrawn her objections. And now I m-m-must ask you—will you b-b-be my wife?” He opened the box.

Lucy gasped, and took a step forward to peer inside. “James—it’s lovely.”

He withdrew the wooden band that he had whittled. “I m-m-made this ring from the b-branch of the willow t-t-tree at Saint Swithin’s. I never p-pass that t-t-tree without thinking of you and r-remembering how you helped me t-t-to become a better man.” He smiled, taking her little cold hand in his. “It s-s-seemed m-more fitting than emeralds and d-d-diamonds—but I s-s-still have those, t-t-too,” he hastened to add. Perhaps she would be offended by his simple offering after the dazzling jewels he’d offered before.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, her eyes cast down.

He pulled her close, not in the same possessive manner he had before but tenderly. “Lucy, you m-m-must know something. My s-s-stammer may never g-g-go away. It disappears in some m-m-moments, but I fear it’s as m-m-much a part of me as a s-s-scar that will never c-c-completely heal.”

“I’ve never minded your stammer,” she protested, leaning against him. Her slender frame was light as a feather. “Never. It has never bothered me as much as it has bothered you.”

“S-s-so, as imperfect as I am, will you c-consent to be my w-wife?” He closed his eyes, willing his heart to keep its same steady rhythm. She was standing so close that she would be sure to feel its pounding.

“I am flawed, too,” she whispered. “And there is no one I would rather live imperfectly with than you.”

James released his tightly held breath and slipped the wooden band onto Lucy’s ring finger. Then he tilted her chin up, kissing her tentatively at first. As Lucy softened against him, he deepened the embrace until she broke away breathlessly.

“Gracious,” she murmured. He chuckled softly, pressing kisses onto her hairline.

“I hope you l-l-like the h-house,” he murmured. “I p-purchased it outright just a few w-weeks ago. It’s ours n-now, Lucy. Our h-home.”

“Our home,” she repeated. “Oh, James, I love it. I love you. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me. Everything was so dreadful and lonely—I felt like I had lost half of myself.”

“So d-did I.” He held her tightly and they stood together, wrapped in each others’ embrace, until the notes of the wedding processional echoed through the little church.

“Sophie’s wedding! We must go.” Lucy broke away from his hold.

He took her arm and led her into the church, settling beside the Bradbury family in a back pew. Miss Louisa looked over at them, a broad grin lighting her face. He returned the grin and winked at her. Life was complete—his cup ran over. In just a few short months, he and Lucy would be having a wedding of their own. He said a silent prayer of thanks.

With Lucy by his side, he could do no wrong.

* * *

Sophie’s wedding breakfast was a jolly affair, made jollier by the appearance of all the veterans, who took turns telling jokes and singing songs. Lucy couldn’t stop smiling. She simply couldn’t. Life was too sweet now. She glanced over at her handsome fiancé as he stood talking to Lieutenant Cantrill. What a good man he was. She touched her wooden ring. This was exactly what she’d always wanted but had never dared to hope for for herself.

Sophie passed by on her sister’s arm. The bride had been so busy that Lucy hadn’t had a moment to share her news. But Sophie grasped Lucy’s left hand as she drew close and smiled merrily. “I see I shall be dancing at your wedding in a few months’ time!” she cried as she disappeared up the stairs with her sister, who was rather obviously with child. Lucy watched them depart with a glow warming her heart. It was good to see the two of them together—rather like watching Amelia and Louisa in the old days.

“Miss Williams.” Lord Bradbury came up to her, with Louisa hanging on his elbow. “My daughter has brought it to my attention that you are engaged to be married.”

Oh, dear. His lordship was very particular about his female employees remaining unmarried. She should have said something—but it all had just taken place. “Forgive me, your lordship...I should have told you first....”

He nodded slowly, his graying temples flashing in the candlelight. “We shall be sorry to lose you, Miss Williams. You’ve been an outstanding governess. Almost like a mother to my girls. But Amelia has told me that she wishes to marry young Spencer, and that means Louisa will make her debut soon after.” He pulled his youngest daughter close. “I’m sorry to be losing both of my daughters, but that is the way of the world.”

“Of course.” She smiled at Louisa—little Louisa who would need a governess no longer. Overnight she had grown into a lady.

“Tell her about the gift, Papa,” Louisa whispered urgently in his lordship’s ear.

“Oh, yes. Louisa says you have a sort of pet project—something about starting a school for the children of the veterans’ group. I like that organization. They are doing good work for men and women who sorely need it.” His lordship pursed his lips for a moment and then continued. “I was thinking that—in light of the fact that you essentially raised my daughters for the past several years—I owe you more than just a trifling wedding present. Rather ridiculous to give someone of your standing in our family a set of dishes or some old lace. No, indeed. I’d like to gift you the money to start your school.”

Lucy wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Long inured to expecting nothing out of life, she had never expected such a generous gift from his lordship. She looked from father to daughter in turn, trying to comprehend all she’d heard. “Money for the school?”

“Yes, for all those children who need you, Lucy,” Louisa added. “We were lucky to have you all those years, and now you can share your gift for teaching with children who couldn’t afford an education.”

“Would five thousand pounds be sufficient?” his lordship queried. “I don’t wish to stint you, but I have no idea what the costs would be.”

Lucy gasped. “Oh, no, it’s too kind,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I couldn’t accept it.”

“It’s not for you, not exactly.” Louisa smiled cheekily. “It’s for those children. And I should consider it repayment in kind if you drill all of them on their Latin declensions, just as you used to torture me with them.”

“It’s settled then.” His lordship clapped his hands. “I’ll gather the money for you when we return home. And of course, you may stay with us until your marriage. I’ll bend the rules this once. Now, where can I find some port?” He drifted away, leaving Louisa behind.

“Oh, Lucy.” Louisa embraced Lucy so hard that the breath was knocked out of her. “I shall miss you dreadfully, but I shall come to visit and perhaps help at your school. Would that be all right?”

“Of course it will. I should love to have you,” Lucy responded warmly. “With Amelia leaving, will you be lonely?”

“No,” Louisa said decisively. “Now we have weddings to plan—yours and Amelia’s. And I shall help with the school. And then, of course, I have my own debut to plan. This next year is going to be quite the social whirl. I cannot wait.” She smiled, but tears crowded her eyes. “And I shall have a brilliant debut, and find my prince—for I want to live happily ever after, too.”

“Of course, you will.” Lucy hugged her tightly, smoothing her hair. She wished nothing but happiness for Louisa.

A general hubbub broke out amongst the crowd, and Lucy spied Sophie and the lieutenant gathering their things. “It must be time for the bride and groom to depart,” she told Louisa. “Come, let us see them off in style.”

The chilly, wet November day dampened no spirits as the guests streamed out of the manse and onto the lawn. They lined up on either side of the pathway and showered the couple with rice as they ran, panting and laughing, toward the carriage waiting nearby.

After seeing Sophie and the lieutenant off, the assembled throng of guests began to drift away. James came to her side. “Shall we t-t-take a walk together? I c-can t-take you home if his lordship wishes t-to leave early.”

“Of course. Just let me get my wrap.” She’d neglected to grab her shawl before coming out to see Sophie off, and now she was shivering. When she returned, her heavy cloak swirling about her ankles, James was waiting there for her. For her alone. She touched the ring under her glove. It was a novel feeling, knowing that he was there and would be there for her the rest of their lives.

They walked along the scrubby hills, the frost covered moor grass crunching beneath their feet. “I just wanted to have a moment with you before we parted once more,” he explained, his breath showing on the air. “I m-must apologize that it’s so awfully c-c-cold out here.”

“Don’t apologize.” She was warmed from within, a glowing fire that made the weather seem positively balmy. “I am happy simply to be here with you.”

“I s-suppose you will have to t-tell his lordship about us,” he muttered. “D-do you think he will m-m-make you leave his home? If s-s-so, we c-can wed immediately.”

She laughed. “Gretna Green?” She shot a sidelong glance at him and was rewarded by the blush that crept over his angular cheeks. “No, do not worry. His lordship has already spoken to me, and he will not make me leave. Not until we are wed. Louisa Bradbury is rather poor at keeping secrets, so he knew by the time the ceremony had ended.”

“G-good, I am g-glad to hear that.” He still looked rather embarrassed, though, and was studying the moor grass as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. “I’m sorry I b-behaved so b-badly when I b-begged you to marry me last time, Lucy. I was scared—scared to d-death, actually—that I w-would lose you. I c-couldn’t bear it. And so I l-lashed out.”

“Think no more of it.” This must be a happy occasion. She wanted to think no more about that day—or the weeks that followed it, gray and bland and unending. “His lordship has even given us a rather sizable wedding gift. Enough money to start the school I wanted for the veterans’ group.”