27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

T he soft rustle of silk filled Iris's bedchamber as Lucy, her faithful lady's maid, made the final adjustments to her wedding gown. Iris stood before the full-length mirror, her heart fluttering like a caged bird within her chest. The gown, a creation of ivory silk and delicate lace, seemed to shimmer in the morning light that filtered through the gauzy curtains.

"Oh, My Lady," Lucy breathed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You look absolutely radiant."

Iris smiled softly, her fingers tracing the intricate embroidery at her waist. "Thank you, Lucy. I can scarcely believe this day has finally arrived."

As Lucy arranged Iris's veil, the young bride's thoughts drifted to the tumultuous journey that had led her to this moment. The loss of her memories, the confusion and heartache that followed, and the eventual triumph of love over societal expectations—it all seemed like a fantastical dream .

A gentle knock at the door roused Iris from her reverie. "Come in," she called, smoothing her hands over her skirts.

The door opened to reveal Lady Rosier, resplendent in a gown of deep burgundy silk. Mother and daughter gazed at each other momentarily, years of misunderstanding and conflict melting away in the face of this momentous occasion.

"Oh, Iris," Lady Rosier whispered, her usual composure slipping as she stepped forward to embrace her daughter. "My darling girl. You look... you look..."

"Thank you, Mother," Iris murmured, her own eyes filling with tears as she returned the embrace. The warmth of her mother's approval, so long sought after, filled her heart with joy.

Lady Rosier stepped back, dabbing at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. "Now, now," she said, her voice regaining some of its familiar briskness. "We mustn't ruin your complexion with tears. There's still much to be done before the ceremony."

As her mother fussed with the arrangement of her veil, Iris marveled at the change that had come over Lady Rosier in recent weeks. The initial shock and disapproval of Iris's reconciliation with Horatio gradually gave way to a grudging acceptance and an unexpected enthusiasm for the wedding preparations.

"I've just come from speaking with Mrs. Holloway," Lady Rosier continued, referring to Rosewood Manor's housekeeper. "The floral arrangements have arrived and are being placed as we speak. And I've instructed the footmen to be extra vigilant in keeping those dreadful gossipmongers at bay."

Iris couldn't help but smile at her mother's protective instincts. "I'm sure everything will be perfect, Mother. Thank you for all you've done. "

Lady Rosier's expression softened, and she cupped Iris's cheek gently. "My dear, I just want you to live happily, even if I may not…"

Iris felt a lump form in her throat, overwhelmed by this unexpected admission. "Oh, Mama," she whispered, clasping Lady Rosier's hand.

A discreet cough from Lucy reminded them of the time. Lady Rosier straightened, smoothing her skirts. "Well, then. I believe it's time we made our way downstairs. Your father is waiting to escort you to the church."

As Iris descended the grand staircase of Rosewood Manor, her hand resting lightly on her father's arm, she felt like she was floating in a dream.

As they reached the Entrance Hall, Lord Rosier patted his daughter's hand, his eyes suspiciously bright as he gazed down at her. "My dear girl," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "You look every inch the beautiful bride. Thornbrook is a fortunate man indeed."

"Thank you, Father," Iris replied, her heart swelling with love for this man who had come to accept her choices, even when they differed from his own expectations.

As they stepped out into the warm summer morning, Iris caught sight of the elegant barouche that would carry her to the church. Her breath caught in her throat as she thought of Horatio waiting for her at the altar, his grey eyes filled with love and promise.

The carriage ride to the church gave Iris a few precious moments to collect her thoughts. She sat beside her father, drawing comfort from his steady presence.

Through the window, she watched the familiar landscape of her new hometown. Iris smoothed her hands over her dress, the soft fabric soothing her nerves. She caught her father's eye and shared a small smile with him. Neither spoke, but the silence was comfortable.

As they neared the church, a jolt shot through Iris's stomach. This was really happening. She would walk down the aisle to meet Horatio in a short while. This was right. This was where she was meant to be.

As they reached the church, Lord Rosier helped her down from the carriage, his hand steady and reassuring on her arm.

The heavy oak doors of the church swung open, and the familiar strains of Handel's Water Music filled the air. Iris felt a rush of emotion as she caught her first glimpse of the interior, transformed by candlelight and flowers into a scene of breathtaking beauty.

As she began her walk down the aisle, Iris was acutely aware of the many eyes upon her. The church was filled to capacity, a mix of supportive friends, curious neighbors, and even a few who had once whispered against her, but at this moment, their presence faded into insignificance as her gaze locked with Horatio's.

He stood at the altar, resplendent in his formal attire, his stormy eyes shining with adoration. As Iris drew nearer, she saw the slight tremor in his hands and the rapid rise and fall of his chest and knew that he was just as overwhelmed by the moment as she was.

When she finally reached his side, Horatio extended his hand, and Iris placed her own within it. The warmth of his touch seemed to anchor her, dispelling the last vestiges of nervousness.

"Dearly beloved," the vicar began, his sonorous voice filling the hushed church. "We are gathered here today in the sight of God to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony..."

As the familiar words of the ceremony sunk in, Iris found herself transported back to the moment she had first laid eyes on Horatio. The music that had led her to Thornbrook Manor, the haunting melody that had drawn her in, and how different he had been then.

How far they had come since that day, through trials and misunderstandings, to arrive at this perfect moment of union.

"I, Horatio Ainsworth, Earl of Thornbrook, take thee, Iris, to be my wedded wife," Horatio's voice rang out, clear and strong. "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 we do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."

As Iris repeated the vows, every fiber of her was jubilated. The exchange of rings followed simple gold bands that gleamed in the candlelight. As Horatio slipped the ring onto her finger, Iris felt as though her heart might burst with joy.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," the vicar declared, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You may kiss the bride."

Horatio cupped Iris's face gently in his hands, his stormy grey eyes searching hers for a moment before he leaned in to claim her lips in a kiss that was at once tender and passionate. The church erupted in applause, but to Iris, it seemed the world had narrowed to just the two of them, lost in this perfect moment of love and commitment.

As they turned to face their guests, now husband and wife, Iris caught sight of her parents in the front pew. Lady Rosier was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief while Lord Rosier beamed with unmistakable pride. Beside them sat Maude and her husband Ralph, their faces alight with happiness for the newlyweds.

The reception that followed was a joyous affair held in Rosewood Manor's expansive gardens. Tables laden with hors d'oeuvres dotted the lawn, and an orchestra played a selection of lively tunes that soon had guests taking to the makeshift dance floor.

As Iris and Horatio made their way through the crowd, accepting congratulations and well-wishes, she was struck by the change in attitude of many who had once whispered against them. Even Lady Catherine Blackwood, who had been so cutting in her remarks at the Duchess of Pembroke's ball, offered a grudging word of congratulation.

As Lady Catherine moved away, Horatio leaned in close, his breath warm against Iris's ear. "Well, you've managed to silence even the sharpest tongue in London."

Iris laughed softly, leaning into her husband's embrace. "Perhaps. Though I suspect Lady Catherine will always find something to gossip about."

"Hm, but enough about her," Horatio took Iris's hand. "Shall we give them a real performance, my love?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

Iris nodded, excitement bubbling up inside her as they made their way to the pianoforte. They settled onto the bench, their shoulders touching. Horatio began to play, his fingers dancing across the keys. Iris joined in, their melody intertwining like their lives.

As they played, the world faded away. It was just them, their music, and the story it told. Iris could feel Horatio's warmth beside her, their hands sometimes brushing as they reached for the same octave.

When the final notes faded, Iris looked up to see the guests outside the music room, standing in stunned silence. Then applause erupted, startling her from her reverie.

"That was... incredible," Iris heard someone whisper.

She turned to see her mother approaching, her eyes glistening. Iris smiled as Lady Camilla clasped her hands in hers.

"Iris, darling," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I know I haven't always... understood your choices, but seeing you both now, so radiant and full of joy, I cannot help but feel that perhaps... perhaps you were right to follow your heart..."

Overwhelmed, Iris could only embrace her mother, feeling like another piece of her world had finally fallen into place .

As they pulled apart, Horatio drew Iris away from the crowd. "Come with me, my love," he said, a hint of mystery in his voice. "I have something to show you."

Intrigued, Iris allowed him to lead her to a secluded corner of the garden, where a small table had been set up beneath a bower of roses. A beautifully carved wooden box sat upon it, its surface inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

"What's this?" Iris asked, her curiosity piqued.

Horatio smiled, his eyes dancing with excitement. "A wedding gift, my darling. One I hope will bring you as much joy as you have brought to my life."

With gentle hands, he lifted the lid of the box. A familiar melody began to play, the notes soft and sweet in the evening air. Iris gasped, recognizing the piece Horatio had composed for her, the one that had made her realize she loved him.

"Oh, Horatio," she breathed, tears welling in her eyes. "It's beautiful."

"Not half so beautiful as you, my love," he replied, drawing her into his arms. "Shall we dance?"

As they swayed together beneath the rose-covered bower, the music box playing their song, Iris smiled in contentment. Here, in Horatio's arms, she was home.

"I love you, Horatio Ainsworth," she whispered, gazing up into his beloved face.

His arms tightened around her, his voice husky with emotion as he replied, "And I love you, Iris Ainsworth. Now and always."

As the last notes of the music box faded away, Iris and Horatio shared a kiss that held all the promise of their future together. Hand in hand, they made their way back to the reception, where their guests had gathered to bid them farewell.

A shower of rose petals rained down upon them as they climbed into the waiting carriage, laughter and good wishes following them as the horses set off to Thornbrook Manor.