Chapter Twenty-Nine

I stare at myself in the mirror, watching my hair being pulled and tugged and braided into the most intangible chignon I have ever seen. Mary stands above me, muttering, hands working deftly as she styles my hair. My eyes are bright and clear, shimmering with all the expectations from the day to come. My cheeks have a natural flush to them and my mouth is moist from having rolled my tongue over it so many times.

My body is swathed in a pure white, chiffon dress with a heavily ruffled skirt. There is intricate beading along the neckline and hemline, and instead of sleeves, lace curls itself around both of my arms, just hinting at the slightly tanned skin beneath. There is no collar on the dress, instead there is just a strip of lace attached to the chiffon of the dress. A red crystal teardrop pendant graces my neck, drawing attention to the lace and the embellishment on the neckline of my dress.

Mary adjusts a final few locks of my hair and then sighs, looking at me warmly in the mirror. "There you are, Eloise. You look wonderful."

"Thank you, Mary." I beam, standing up and turning to face her. "Do you know if Mother has arrived as of yet?"

Mary's expression turns apologetic and she shakes her head. "Not that I know of, dear. Damon sent a messenger yesterday evening and he returned with the message that if it is safe, she will attend. She said she will try her best. That is the most we can expect, right?"

I nod silently, walking sombrely over to my bed and picking up the bouquet of red roses.

"Eloise darling." Mary sighs. "Do not be so morose today. It's your wedding day. This is the day you have been waiting for, this is the day you've been fighting for, this is the day you've been wishing for. Do not fill it with negativity, for Damon's sake, if not for your own."

I nod, attempting to cheer myself up. Mary's right. Today has been waited upon with such vigour and intensity - I can't ruin it now with my sordid negativity.

I think of Damon and ask Mary, "What do you think Damon is wearing?"

"Exactly what he is expected to wear." Mary says vaguely, chuckling when I huff. "Contain your impatience, my dear, you will see him soon."

"Hardly soon enough, Mary." I whine. "We still have to wait a while before the priest arrives."

"Actuallly, the priest is already here." Mary smirks. "He arrived a while ago. Everything is now ready and Peter is waiting outside the room to escort you downstairs."

Peter arrived last night on horseback. He will be in the position of my father, he will walk me up the aisle and give me away to my rightful husband. He is incredibly excited about it; I am just happy to see him be treated as equal to me, something he has always been denied since his birth as an illegitimate child.

"What?!" I shriek, panicking. "Why did you not inform me before?"

Mary just sighs. "Because you were not ready, Eloise. Now, come on. Time to get married."

I can't help but to grin, all previous grievances forgotten, and follow Mary into the hallway. Peter is waiting there, just as Mary told me, dressed in the most breathtaking way.

He is wearing a specially tailored black suit with an Italian-style ruffle-necked white dress shirt and polished leather shoes. His dark hair has been slicked back, allowing his shining eyes to take the full limelight.

"Peter...." I gasp. "Oh, I can barely recognise you! You look wonderful, Peter!"

Peter beams. "Do you think so? The ruffles... Are they not too feminine?"

Mary chuckles and I shake my head determinedly. "Peter, you look like a true gentleman of society."

Peter stands a little straighter. "Well, if I look like a gentleman of society, I must act like one. My lady, will you give me the pleasure of escorting you to your wedding dais?"

Peter holds his arm out for me to take.

"I certainly will." I beam at him, wrapping my hand around his arm and letting him lead me down the staircase that has now become familiar to me. Instead of going towards the front door, we turn into the kitchen and stride through the back door.

This is because my wedding will be conducted in the garden. Damon insisted on doing so; he said that going to the church risked somebody seeing us and reporting our sighting to the Colleton family, so we decided to say our vows in our garden, a naturally beautiful place that did not need any kind of enhancement or decoration.

There is a path of rose petals on the ground as I step out of the house and it disappears round a corner, telling us where to go. I walk calmly down this path, my hand shaking in the crease of Peter's arm, my knees nearly giving way with each step. We reach the corner and turn it.

The path goes on for a few yards and then, under two trees with branches that reach out to each other, as though forming an arch, stand the priest and Damon.

Damon is dressed in a similar suit to Peter's, except he does not have ruffles on his shirt and he has a red handkerchief in the breast pocket of his suit. His dark hair is tousled as usual and his bright, electric blue eyes are enhanced by the afternoon sun, sending their glimmer all the way to me. When he sees me, he stands straighter, his hands clasped and he smiles with pride.

A smile breaks out on my own face and I ache to walk faster, but I let Peter control our speed, walking at a miniscule pace over to Damon and the priest. When we finally approach them, Peter turns to me and kisses both of my cheeks and my hands. I hug him tightly, kissing his cheek. Tears well in his eyes and Mary puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. Peter takes my right hand and presses it into Damon's outstretched hand, then he steps back, smiling tearfully.

I step closer to Damon, drinking his presence, his appearance, his scent in to my satisfaction. Then we turn to the priest who asks, "Have both parties signed the consenting marriage contract?"

"We have." Damon says confidently and Mary nods in agreement.

"Then we shall proceed with the marriage." The priest says and then goes on to read passages from the Bible.

I do not understand much, as I was not raised to be a religious girl. My mother did not care much for religion, but whenever possible, Mary would always take me to the Sunday sermon and I would sit for hours, engrossed in lectures. I had loved it, but as I had gotten older, my mother had taken control of my life completely and soon, my occasional visits to the church were also stopped. According to Mother at that time, balls and cotillions were more important. Thankfully, she has now realised her mistakes.

The priest clears his throat and closes the Bible.

I inhale sharply, glancing at Damon, who is licking his lower lip in anticipation.

This is it. My wedding.

The priest takes each of our right hands and says, "Now, repeat after me. I, Damon Wilcox, take you, Eloise Jane Kempston, to be my wife and spouse and I pledge to you the faith of my body, that I will be faithful to you and loyal with my body and my goods and that I will keep you in sickness and in health and in whatever condition it will please the Lord to place you, and that I shall not exchange you for better or worse until the end."

Damon smoothly rolls the words off his tongue, never hesitating once, his eyes boring deep into my soul, my chest burning and swelling with affection at the conviction with which he speaks.

The priest then turns to me and says, "Repeat after me. I, Eloise Jane Kempston, take you, Damon Wilcox, to be my husband and spouse and I pledge to you the faith of my body, that I will be faithful to you and loyal with my body and my goods and that I will keep you in sickness and in health and in whatever condition it will please the Lord to place you, and that I shall not exchange you for better or worse until the end."

I launch into the speech, stumbling and forgetting words, needing the priest to remind me of phrases, my cheeks heating as Damon chuckles at my incapability to say a few words the way he could. I let out a breath of relief once I have finished and Mary lets out a little giggle from behind me. I bow my head in embarrassment, my cheeks burning.

"Could I please have the rings and thirteen pieces of silver?" The priest asks patiently and Mary steps up to the dais, producing two ring boxes and giving them to the priest. The priest puts them on an ornamental table behind him that I never noticed before. Mary then counts out thirteen pieces of silver and hands them to the priest, also.

"Seven of these will go to charity, to feed the homeless." The priest puts these in a pouch on the table. "The rest will go into the bride's purse."

Mary turns to Peter. "Do you have the purse, Peter?"

"I do." Peter says, taking a beaded white pouch from his pocket and passing it on to Mary. Mary opens the drawstrings and the priest drops the six remaining pieces of silver in the purse. Mary pulls the drawstrings closed and then steps back once more.

The priest then takes the red ring box and removes an impressive silver ring. It has a neatly cut, shimmering rectangular diamond in the center and there are little clusters of red rubies merging into the band at either side.

Damon takes the ring in his hand and holds my left hand in the other, looking at me intently. He slips the ring on to my bare finger and holds it there.

"Repeat after me." The priest says. "With this ring, I, Damon Wilcox, wed you, Eloise Jane Kempston, with my body I honour you, and I endow you with the dowry agreed upon by my friends and yours."

Damon smiles a little breathlessly but repeats flawlessly. "With this ring, I, Damon Wilcox, wed you, Eloise Jane Kempston, with my body I honour you, with my soul, I love you, and I endow you with the dowry agreed upon by my friends and yours."

The priest hands me a silver ring; a plain band with a roping pattern at both ends of the ring to symbolise eternity. On the inside, an engraving reads 'Yours Forever' in an italic script.

I push the ring on to Damon's finger, hold it there and repeat after the priest, "With this ring, I, Eloise Jane Kempston, wed you, Damon Wilcox, with my body, I honour you, and with my soul, I love you."

"By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife." The priest declares.

I grin and sink into Damon's arms, allowing myself a brief touching of our lips before pulling away. I turn to Mary and Peter, to see -

- "Mother?" I gasp. "You came?"

Mother is dressed in a flowing silk cream gown, her hair slicked back elegantly, a proud smile gracing her face, her eyes lined with tears. "I wouldn't miss your wedding for the world, Eloise."

Damon and I walk to her and I embrace her warmly, holding on for as long as I can, hearing Peter escorting the priest from the premises.

"When did you arrive?" Damon asks respectfully.

"Just in time." Mother says. "You both look wonderful. And Peter! He looks dashing! Dressed like that, he would have no trouble finding a suitable bride!"

"I married my horses a long while back." Peter calls as he approaches us once more.

I giggle and Damon winds an arm around my waist, pulling me close to him.

After the wedding feast in the dining room and the dances in the parlour, Mother and Peter have to start the journey home in order to avoid suspicion from Emmanuel and his family. Mary also returns to her cottage, insisting she is tired and needs her rest.

Still in my - rather comfortable - wedding dress, Damon and I are sitting in the main room, squashed on one armchair, yet none of us wants to move.

"Today was wonderful." I sigh, resting my head against his chest.

Damon contentedly hums in agreement, his slender fingers tracing circles on my spine. "It was perfect, wasn't it?"

"Flawless.... and tiring." I say, looking up at Damon.

Damon smiles and says, "That it was. Can you believe we're man and wife now?"

"After so long." I close my eyes peacefully, listening to Damon's steady heartbeat pounding on my ear. "Damon, nothing can go wrong now. Nothing. We're married now, no one can do anything about it. Not even Emmanuel."

Damon chuckles. "So, does that mean we can stay together forever?"

I glance up at him. "Didn't you hear the priest? I shall not exchange you for better or worse until the end. If I am correct, that means forever."

Damon nods. "It does, it does."

I smile and then a yawn overtakes my body, forcing my mouth to gape open in the most unflattering way. Damon just chuckles, watching me yawn with an amused look painting his beautiful smile.

When I finally close my mouth and rub my eyes sleepily, he reaches forward and begins to unpick my hair, letting it fall down past my shoulders in waves, masssaging my stiff, sore scalp. Kissing my forehead, Damon wraps his arms around my upper body and under my knees, rising to a standing position, holding me all the while.

"Come on, Mrs Damon Wilcox. Let's put you to sleep."

I smile up at him, revelling at the name my husband has bestowed upon me...

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