Epilogue

“Rosalyn! Here it is!” Georgina’s voice called through the bedroom door.

“We made a special trip through the garden just for you,” Isabel added brightly.

Rosalyn turned away from the looking-glass where Betty arranged her hair. Her heart thundering with excitement, she half-stood, going to the door. She had no idea what her sisters meant, but their voices were welcome, adding to her joy. Betty stepped back from where she was arranging a few pearl-ended pins in Rosalyn’s pale hair to open the door.

Rosalyn stood up slowly, trying not to disturb the elaborate hairstyle. As she did, she turned to the door, where shrieks of delight erupted from her sisters’ throats.

“Rosalyn! You look beautiful,” Georgina exclaimed.

“How lovely you look,” Isabel murmured.

Rosalyn’s throat tightened. Her sisters looked beautiful. They were dressed in winter finery—Georgina in a dark red gown, Isabel in sapphire. Georgina’s lovely chestnut hair was fluffed around her face in a cloud of curls, and Isabel’s long, sleek black hair hung in ringlets beside her slim face. They both gaped at Rosalyn in her long white gown.

Rosalyn frowned as she saw what they were holding. Then her eyes widened, filling with tears as she recognised what it was. A bouquet of winter greenery and a small wreath.

“We went picking leaves for you, since there are no flowers,” Georgina said with a grin.

“This is for your hair,” Isabel explained.

“Sisters...it’s beautiful.” Rosalyn swallowed hard, unable to find words. “It’s just beautiful.”

“We’re so glad you like it!” Georgina said with a big grin. “I shall put it here. Be careful...it’s got some little prickles.” She put the bunch of trailing ivy, conifer and holly sprigs on the table. It was tied with red and white ribbons.

“Will this do, for the veil?” Isabel asked carefully, holding the wreath. Rosalyn nodded, swallowing hard.

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “It’s so beautiful. Betty will arrange the veil with it.” She turned to smile at Betty, who nodded.

“I shall take care of it, miss. It shall be a challenge.” She grinned and giggled.

Rosalyn smiled as she watched Betty carefully lift the delicate gauzy white veil. With meticulous hands, Betty took the simple silk loop meant to secure it and tied it into the elaborate wreath of greenery her sisters had lovingly crafted for her. All the grateful, happy emotions in her throat made it impossible to speak as Betty lowered the wreath onto her hair and she carefully picked up the bouquet. She smiled down at it. Since it was the middle of winter, she had not thought that she would have a bouquet or a wreath. But her sisters had somehow contrived both—and they were just right. They reminded her of so many beautiful moments.

“Oh! Sister! Look at you. You look lovely,” Georgina breathed.

“Yes. Come and see in the looking glass,” Isabel insisted.

Rosalyn went over to have a look at her reflection. She drew a deep breath, touched and amazed and excited all at once.

The gown that she wore was of a simple style, made of thick white silk. The long skirt fell from a high waist that was decorated with a thick white ribbon. The sleeves were long, extending down to her hands, the upper section of the sleeves full and slightly puffed. The dress swept to the floor in front, with a train trailing perhaps half a yard behind her. The delicate, gauzy veil cascaded down her back, merging with the train that followed in its wake. Rosalyn gazed at her reflection. Her hazel eyes seemed enormous, framed by soft, pale curls that framed her slender face. The back of her hair was arranged in a neat chignon, hidden beneath an inch-thick wreath of ivy and holly that encircled her head. The fine veil draped over it, falling gently to frame her face.

Her throat tightened with excitement and wonder and she gazed down at her hands, which clasped the pretty bouquet. The arrangement exactly matched the wreath in her hair. She gazed at her sisters, her eyes filled with love. They beamed back.

“Are you ready?” Georgina asked solemnly.

“We’ll go out first. You should descend the stairs alone as is proper.” Isabel inclined her head, adding emphasis to her words.

Rosalyn swallowed hard. Her eyes filled with tears, joy mingling with the knowledge that she would be going away from her home. She thought of Callum, his strong face filling her mind, her heart overflowing with the love that she felt for him. And besides , she thought with a wry smile , it will not be long before I see Georgina again, at least —if things unfold as I imagine.

“I am ready,” she said softly.

Georgina and Isabel looked at one another and then solemnly walked forward. They wrapped their arms around Rosalyn, holding her tight. She struggled to hold back her tears. She wrapped her arms tight around them and hugged them with all the force of her care.

“That bouquet is prickly,” Georgina objected. Rosalyn laughed and released her hold on Georgina, the bouquet still firmly clutched in her hand.

“Thank you, sisters,” she said softly. “I love you both so much.”

“We love you too,” Georgina echoed. Her big dark eyes were full of tears.

“We’ll see you often,” Isabel promised, her voice firm though tears collected in her lovely black eyes as well.

“I will see you, too,” Rosalyn assured them. She waited until they had gone out of the room and then she embraced Betty and walked silently to the door. Her silk slippers were soundless on the wooden floor, and then she was walking down the stairs and towards the front door, ready to begin her new life.

Papa and Sebastian were at the foot of the steps. Rosalyn took her father’s arm, her heart thudding in her chest. The household staff were gathered at the foot of the steps, watching her proceed towards the front door. The housekeeper and the cook were crying. Rosalyn squeezed their hands, her heart filled with love and thanks.

“Bless you, Miss Rosalyn,” the housekeeper stammered.

“We will all miss you so much,” the cook said softly.

Rosalyn thanked them, her heart full. Then she was walking with Papa down the path towards the chapel in the grounds.

Despite the original plan to have the wedding at the duke’s home in the Midlands, they had decided instead to travel to her family estate in Sussex for the wedding. Rosalyn’s heart lifted as they walked slowly towards the chapel where her family had taken mass all her life. Isabel, Georgina and Sebastian went in ahead of them, and she and Papa walked slowly down the empty path together.

At the door, she gazed into her father’s eyes. He blinked, his own tears threatening to fall.

“Bless you, my daughter,” he said softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, Papa,” Rosalyn whispered. She squeezed his hand. She knew that she would see him often, but not every day—the Midlands were too far for that. She swallowed hard and focused on the door. She had a new life ahead. A wonderful, exciting life with Callum.

Papa helped her to cover her face with the veil. Then he opened the door and they walked into the chapel.

It was dark at first, and Rosalyn struggled to see. The light from the snow outside had been much brighter than the interior, especially through the veil, and it was difficult to orient herself at first. They walked slowly down the aisle. A tall, dark-clad figure stood at the altar. It was Callum. He was standing slightly turned away, his pale face in profile, his thick black hair blending with the shadow, along with his dark grey velvet jacket. He turned and her heart soared.

Two steady, unwavering grey eyes held her own and she could look nowhere else.

She smiled through the veil, smiling so wide that her cheeks hurt. Her heart was soaring, her soul rejoicing with love. Callum must have seen her smile despite the gauzy lace because he grinned back and his smile seemed to light the chapel. She could look nowhere else.

The vicar stood beside the altar, and he, too, smiled when he saw them approach. He cleared his throat and began the ceremony. Rosalyn gazed at Callum. He gazed back.

The words of the ceremony rose and fell in a steady chant, and though Rosalyn tried to focus, the thudding of her own heart drowned out much of it. Her mind and heart were consumed with thoughts of Callum, and the overwhelming joy that surged through her, leaving little room for anything else.

“...and do you, Rosalyn Grace Rothwell take thee Callum Alexander Stanhope to be your lawful wedded husband?” the priest asked. Rosalyn swallowed hard.

“I do,” she said, softly but firmly. She had never meant anything more sincerely in her life.

The vicar turned to Callum. “And do you, Callum Alexander Stanhope, take thee Rosalyn Grace Rothwell to be your lawful wedded wife?”

“I do.” Callum’s voice, firm and deep, rocked through her soul.

The ceremony continued and Rosalyn’s heart thudded as they reached the concluding words. She gazed up at Callum as he turned to face her. Very slowly, very tenderly, he drew back the veil that covered her face. He smiled as he smoothed it carefully over her hair. Rosalyn’s heart raced as he leaned toward her and, so slowly, so gently, pressed his warm, firm lips to her own. She shut her eyes, joy flooding her heart as, so sweetly, so tenderly, they kissed, their lips meeting in a union that made her soul soar.

He straightened up and, slowly and shyly, they turned to face the congregation. Rosalyn blinked, tears filling her eyes as she gazed at all the joyful faces.

They walked down the aisle. As they reached the door, the small crowd in the church erupted in cheers.

“Congratulations!” Georgina yelled, her high, clear voice carrying above all the others. Rosalyn’s heart filled with love.

“Blessings on you both,” Isabel called, more softly.

“Congratulations,” Sebastian said loudly. Beside him, Harriet beamed, calling out her own congratulations to them both.

Rosalyn’s ears were filled with the sound of so many murmurous voices, shouting congratulations and well-wishes as they walked out into the daylight. Her heart was filled with love and thankfulness. Callum grinned at her, taking her arm.

“You are not cold, are you, dear?” he asked softly as they walked across the lawn. They would sit down for luncheon with her family and then proceed to the coach for the first part of their journey northwards to his home. She smiled and shook her head.

“Not too cold,” she said, though her teeth were chattering in the dress, her feet in their silk slippers icy on the cold stones of the path.

“I would offer to carry you,” Callum said with a grin as they walked briskly towards the house, where the staff waited to offer them congratulations. “But I think your dignity would not allow it.”

Rosalyn tilted her head, grinning at him. “Perhaps one day I might let you,” she teased.

“Mayhap,” Callum said, laughing, and he took her hand and they half-ran up the path, laughing in delight, to reach the warmth and shelter of the house.

In the doorway, the kissing bough still hung. It was a week before Epiphany, and nobody would touch the Christmas decorations before then. Rosalyn gazed up, seeing it as Callum did. Without warning, Callum wrapped his arms around Rosalyn, making her gasp as he lifted her off her feet. Then he pressed his lips to hers and held her close in a big, firm, lovely kiss.

Rosalyn kissed him back, then let out a delighted laugh as he twirled her around and set her on her feet again. He took her hand and they walked into the hallway, ready to start their new lives together, full of love and joy.

The End

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