Epilogue

Anastasia felt the whisper of her veil around her face, and she focused on the vicar, who stood before her, his face lit from within, his eyes smiling though he had stopped grinning when he began reading the ceremony.

Her gaze moved sideways to where Sidney stood. His arm pressed against her side, his dark blue velvet jacket soft and warm. She leaned closer to him, allowing their two forms to touch, drawing courage from his closeness. Not that she needed any. She had been smiling all morning.

The vicar's voice had slowed, and she drew her attention swiftly back to it, focusing on what he was saying.

"...and do thee, Anastasia Marcia Gray, take thee Sidney Alexander Markham to be thy lawful wedded husband?"

"I do." Anastasia spoke the words with more certainty than she had ever said anything in her life.

"And do thee, Sidney Alexander Markham, take thee Anastasia Marcia Gray..." he continued, repeating the vows for Sidney to say.

"I do." His voice was resonant and low, shivering through her and making her grin. She would never forget how his voice sounded, how her heart soared as he said the word. She felt more joy than she had ever felt.

The vicar continued, and Anastasia lost focus on what he said, the words finding their way to her blurrily through the bubble of joy that filled her mind and heart.

She was aware that the ceremony must have concluded, because she sensed Sidney turn, and then, so gently, he was lifting the veil from her face. She gazed up at him through the gauze fabric and her heart thudded wildly in her chest. She shut her eyes as he bent forward and his lips, warm and tender, pressed to hers in a gentle kiss.

It was a brief touching of lips, and then she opened her eyes and gazed smilingly into his, but it was the sweetest kiss because of what it meant.

She stared into his eyes and knew that she loved him with all her heart. He smiled and her heart soared.

Sidney took her hand, shyly, and they turned to face the assembled guests. They were in the chapel at Sidney's country home, and Sidney's family sat mixed with her own. She could see Camilla at the back, with her parents, and Lily, beaming from the front row with her own parents. Sidney's sister Amy and her husband, Henry, sat beside them, and his Aunt Harriet and Cousin Giles sat in the next pew back. Giles was smiling quietly at Sidney the way an older brother might.

Anastasia gazed up at Sidney, her heart full of love. They walked silently down the aisle towards the door through which they had come, the small chapel filled with sunshine as they walked. Their friends and family called out their congratulations as they walked to the door, but Anastasia could barely make out any voices from the mass, besides that of Lily, which was loud and enthused. She smiled to herself.

I will see you often, she promised Lily and herself silently in her heart. Sidney's estate was sufficiently close to London that it was easily possible for herself or Lily to travel the two hours' distance for a cup of tea. Her own family spent almost the entire year in the London townhouse, due to Papa's business interests.

She smiled and waved at Lily, her heart full of love, and then she walked down the short path with Sidney towards the house. Since the wedding had taken place at his estate, there was no need for the customary coach-ride to his home. All the same, the tenants and the staff of his estate had assembled to see them, and Sidney waved and smiled and tossed the customary coins for the children to grab. A flock of village children ran to squabble over the bright coins and Sidney beamed, his happiness the same as her own.

"Well, my dear," Sidney said lightly, the term of endearment still making her cheeks heat up brightly. "I trust you are prepared for a large luncheon?"

Anastasia grinned. "I believe I should be," she replied, one brow rising. The cook at Sidney's home proved rather flamboyant, providing more food at one dinner than she had ever seen for one meal before. She fully expected an army of courses for luncheon, unusual though that might be.

"As usual, you are right," Sidney said with a grin.

Anastasia laughed. Her arm was linked through his and they walked, slowly and tenderly, side by side, into the manor house.

The butler was there to greet them—he had not joined the rest of the staff outside, and nor had some footmen, who had stayed within to prepare the dining room. Anastasia followed Sidney into the room, gazing around at the simple beauty of the place. Amy had insisted on having bunches of late summer roses on every table, and the subtle fragrance of the flowers drifted to her where she stood.

"How beautiful," she murmured.

Sidney beamed. "I didn't notice. You are so beautiful that you're all I am seeing."

Anastasia blushed. "Now, that was flattery, my dear."

He laughed. "I reserve the right to flatter just a little."

Anastasia giggled; her joy too bright to hide. "It is a desire I grant gladly, my dearest Sidney."

He beamed and she could see he was just a little pink in the cheeks too. She felt her heart race with joy. She loved to see him smiling, which he did often.

They waited to greet their guests, who drifted in from the garden.

The meal was, indeed, sumptuous, and Anastasia felt almost too full to stand by the time someone at one of the tables—she thought it was Henry, though she was not sure—suggested that there ought to be some dancing.

Sidney beamed. "A waltz. That would be grand."

Anastasia went pink. "If you wish," she said, a little flustered. She loved dancing with Sidney more than anything, but it would feel strange to dance in front of all their guests.

"Grand! Grand," Henry beamed as Amy joined him and Anastasia felt a little relieved. The other guests would almost certainly join in.

She stood with Sidney, and soon she forgot all else as she stared into his eyes. A group of village musicians had been brought up to play for the servants and the townsfolk who celebrated with them on the lawn outside. The musicians were summoned, and they tuned up hastily. Anastasia gazed at Sidney, the soaring sound of the violins like the joy that lifted her heart.

The musicians played the introductory bars and then they stepped seamlessly together, their dancing as effortless and smooth as ever, feeling—as it always did—as though they were made to dance together, as though they were thinking with one mind, moving with one body. She breathed in, shutting her eyes as she often did when they danced. Then beauty of it, the poetry and rhythm, was something that moved her to tears sometimes, it was so intense.

"Look," Sidney whispered as she opened her eyes again.

Anastasia glanced sideways. The music was slowing, moving to the concluding section, and she was just in time to notice Giles, dancing with a lady in a pink dress. It was Camilla.

She beamed up at Sidney. Her heart glowed with warmth and joy. The two of them were smiling at one another, the rest of the room clearly empty to them, as it was for Sidney and herself.

"They look happy."

"They do," Sidney agreed.

The dance concluded and they bowed and curtseyed, then moved their way silently to the table. The older guests were still seated there, and Anastasia could hear her father discussing what had happened to Lord Ridley. He had fled London following the scandal and she shut her eyes, wishing she could shut her ears too. She did not want to hear about it. All that mattered to her was that she would never see the fellow again; that she had no tie to him and that he could cease to matter altogether. That was all she wished.

"Shall we go outdoors?" Sidney asked, sensing her unease.

She nodded. "Yes, let's go outside."

Sidney stood and went over to the doors that led out onto the terrace. He opened them and cleared his throat. She watched him, enjoying the lithe, easy way he moved. They had gone riding a few times in the forest, with Amy and Henry to accompany them, and she appreciated his skill and strength. He was as fine a rider as he was a dancer, and she looked forward to escaping on horseback with him up to the woods around the estate in the future.

"Should anyone feel overly warm, you are invited to the gardens to partake of the cool shade there." Sidney smiled at the guests as he announced his suggestion.

Several people laughed and smiled, agreeing that it was too hot. Anastasia waited for Sidney to join her, and then, along with some of their other guests, they went out into the garden.

"It's lovely out here," Sidney murmured as they made their way down a shaded path towards the bench that they had come to love. It was near the rose-arbor and screened from view of the house by hedges and trees. Anastasia walked with him, their steps keeping pace and headed in the same direction though neither had discussed where they wished to go. They clearly both wanted to go there, and they headed that way, the cool afternoon breeze that blew over the pond ruffling Anastasia's hair and cooling her.

"It is beautiful," she agreed, joining him as he paused. She settled on the bench, and he sat down beside her, gallantly waiting until she had arranged her white silk skirt before he settled down beside her.

"I always wanted to show you this part of the garden," Sidney murmured as they sat side by side, staring out over the brightly colored blooms and smelling the sweet, intense smell of the roses.

"You did?" Anastasia beamed. "That makes me very happy, since it is so beautiful." She squeezed his hand gently.

"I have something else I would like to show you. In the drawing room. Later, if we can sneak off after our guests have departed." He grinned, a shy grin.

Anastasia nodded, her heartbeat a little hastened with her curiosity. She could not imagine what it might be that he wanted to show her.

They sat in the garden, the other guests wandering peacefully about the flowerbeds, and Anastasia smiled to herself as a snatch of conversation drifted across to them now and again. It seemed that their guests were as happy as they themselves, though they were content to sit and enjoy one another's company in companionable quietude.

"Lord and Lady Anselm are departing," Henry told them, appearing on the pathway unexpectedly. "I think most of the guests will likewise do so."

"We will come directly." Sidney stood and Anastasia followed him. They made their way to the entrance, where, as Henry said, most of the guests were getting ready to depart. Anastasia hugged Lily tight against her chest.

"I will see you tomorrow," she said with a grin as Lily stepped back.

"See you tomorrow!" Lily said, her smile bright and joyful. "I will bring that book I mentioned. The fifth passage in the song is so hard—I need help with the phrasing."

"We can sing it tomorrow," Anastasia promised.

She gazed lovingly at her sister as she went down to the coach. It was wonderful that they could see one another as often as they wished to, and she could not wait to see her and practice the song together.

"Shall we go up...?" Sidney asked hesitantly. The entrance-way was silent, the guests departed to their homes. It was late afternoon, the shadows long and the sunshine that fell through the windows was the color of clover honey.

"Yes," Anastasia murmured, her heart lifting with excitement. "Yes, let us go upstairs."

Sidney walked hesitantly up the stairs ahead of her, almost as though he was hesitant to show her whatever it was. She followed him, waiting as he crossed the hallway and went into the drawing room ahead of her. The curtains were partly drawn so that the glare of the sunset was less blinding, the room painted with orange sunshine and dark, greenish shadow.

"Could you wait a moment?" Sidney asked, from where he stood near the windows.

"Of course," Anastasia agreed softly.

He moved something forward—a piece of furniture that she recognized as an easel only when it was fully in the slanting sunshine.

"Come in now, if you will," Sidney offered hesitantly.

"Of course," Anastasia agreed instantly. She hurried over to the easel, where it was turned away from the door to catch the bright sunlight falling in from the window behind her. Sidney stood on her right. She stopped, rooted in place.

"Sidney!" she shrieked. "It's...it's beautiful."

"It is. It's you," Sidney said, his shy smile slowly lifting the corner of his mouth.

"I know!" Anastasia replied, her eyes wide and with tears blinding them so much so that she had to blink to focus. "I know. It looks...it looks just like me." She could barely speak, her throat blocked with feeling.

"It does," Sidney agreed, smiling warmly. "That's why it's beautiful. I painted it in secret, and I must beg your pardon. I hope it does not displease you."

"What?" Anastasia giggled. "Of course, it does not! It's beautiful, Sidney. I love it." She blinked, her eyes filling with tears afresh. The brushstrokes were tender and loving, the lucency of her eyes and the slightly surprised expression on her face capturing tenderness, a beauty that she had never thought that she herself possessed. The love was obvious. There was such love in every line of the work that she could not look at it without tears springing to her eyes.

"I painted it—or I started it—the day after our first dance. I added to it since then. I must say, I completed it just a month ago."

"It's beautiful," Anastasia murmured. She turned to face him. "I love it. I love you, Sidney Alexander."

Sidney chuckled. "And I love you, Anastasia Marcia. I love you so very much."

Anastasia gazed up at Sidney, at that beautiful, scarred, magical face that belonged to the man she loved more than anything in the world.

"My dearest Sidney, I hold you in the deepest affection. My love for you shall endure eternally."

"And I adore you, Anastasia. For all eternity.

She felt his arms move tenderly around her and she hugged him tight, pressing him to her in an embrace so firm that she could feel the warmth of him through the thin silk dress she wore. She held him tight, and he bent close, and his lips pressed onto hers in a kiss so warm and tender that she thought her heart might melt.

She drew him closer, hugging him tight, stroking his hair, and they stood silently, their love as bright as the light that flooded the silent drawing room.

The End