Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

F our weeks later, Vicky took the Barlow traveling coach down the lane toward the island and the church where so many waited for her wedding to Ford. Beside her rode her aunt Celeste, happy for her and her soon-to-be husband.

"He loves you. You deserve this joy, ma petite. Yvette is happy for you, too. You do her the kind service to bring up her son, Vicky."

She accepted the felicitations of her aunt, believing every word she said. "It took me much to get here, but I could not have chosen better."

A new gown of Prussian blue silk pelisse flowed over her figure well. With long billowing sleeves caught in spangled cuffs, the dress was easy to wear. Vicky appreciated that because she'd missed her monthly two weeks ago and had developed a new anxiety about wearing tightly fitting clothes. She'd told Ford, and he had whirled her about, then said whatever happened, he adored her.

This morning, Vicar Owen would preside over their wedding. He'd been a busy man this past month and had a few more marriages to perform in the coming weeks.

This morning, ten minutes late as she was for the ceremony, all the guests awaited her inside. Clutching her bouquet of late autumn wild flowers Ford had picked himself this morning, she took the footman's hand to step down and lead her into the church.

Aunt Celeste turned at the doors and grinned at her. "You once told me you thought people did not change, Victorine. Some don't. Most do. You have, my sweet niece. You were always an obedient girl. A young lady who did her duty. A wife who endured. But with this marriage, you have shown that a woman who is responsible, can also be brave. Life demands it. Love enriches it. I leave you to your future, my dear. Your years will be glorious."

Vicky watched her walk away and prepared herself for her most happy wedding. She stepped to the threshold and the congregation rose for the bride. At the front of the church stood the vicar and Ford. Her groom, who grinned at her, had imbued her with hope that urged her forward toward all their bright tomorrows.

How she loved the sight of them all who'd come to see her wed her darling Ford. Standing before him with a smile she would not tame, she winked at him and turned to gaze upon the congregation.

In the first pew sat Vicky's Aunt Celeste. Beside her sat the lady who was now her mother-in-law, Countess Barlow.

Yesterday, that lady had retired to the Dower House two miles away from the Hall. The conflict between her and Vicky was more than resolved. It was forgotten. Ford had made it plain to his mother that no other woman would ever become his wife.

"I take the title of earl because it simply comes to me," he had told his mother in Vicky's presence the day after the harvest festival. "I work the land because I learned early how to make it prosper. I marry Vicky because she is the only woman I have ever loved. I ask nothing more in life than to do the work I am good at for the happiness and prosperity of the woman I love and a future we create together."

That her son was happy was the most important thing in this world to the lady. She showed it as she smiled and nodded at Vicky.

Next to the older ladies sat Jack and Gwen Hughes. Gwen held Sam in her lap. The little boy had come to live with Vicky and Ford in Barlow Hall a few weeks ago. She, Gwen and Charite had worked steadily at the transition. Each day all of them had visited with Sam. Each day Vicky and Gwen had taken him up to the Hall and shown him the house, the garden and his nursery bedroom. He had wooden toys that many in the town had carved for him. A small riding horse that Thom Owen had crafted. A new small bed with rails made by Jack Wrath and Ford together. When Sam came to live at the Hall, he was ready to go. He'd hugged Charite when she bade him goodbye. Lately, encouraged by Ford's mother, Sam called Vicky ‘Mama.'

Vicky loved watching Gwen and Jack who minded Sam but paid attention mostly to each other. Hand in hand, they had little regard for the buzz of conversation around them. They were, as usual when together and at leisure, absorbed in one another. Even the most traditional of the belledames who criticized the couple for ignoring the God-ordained order in their household—for Jack not only looked after the house and Griffith, but had taken the name Hughes—could not resist a sign of envy at the couple's manifest love for one another.

A row behind them, she saw Thom Owen and his bride Charite smiling at her and Ford. Charite visited Sam often but just as often came to see Vicky, consulting her on how to deal with some of the more prickly members of the Mill-School committee. Yesterday, Charite had confided that she might be enceinte . She wanted and deserved a child of her own. Vicky could not be happier for her friend. Behind them sat Meg Barlow and her betrothed the physician, Adam Wagner, the Beeson brothers, and many in the two families who had for so many decades argued with each other, but no longer did.

Vicky smiled at them all. So many of them had changed.

Even me.

"Victorine Anne, will you repeat after me?"

She considered the handsome face of her husband. The man who had argued with her and who had promised to love and honor her. The man she would honor and adore for all the days of her life.

"Victorine Anne? Will you repeat after me?"

She nodded to the vicar. "I will. I most certainly will."

THE END