Chapter 3
Chapter
Morning came early at Farrow Cottage. Especially now, deep into June. Julianna adjusted her bonnet and let the warmth heat the top of her head and her shoulders. She tipped her face to the sun and inhaled.
In front of her the garden beds flourished from seedlings new and old.
The ones Fred had bought in London were of exceptional quality and had sprouted right away, a cornucopia of new fruits and vegetables waiting to be enjoyed.
It was deeply, purely quiet here, unlike Sedgewick Manor.
There were no footfalls of Gilbert or his retinue of footmen that seemed to grow larger every day.
No cooks or ladies maids or horses whinnying in the stables.
Just her and the occasional chitter chatter of her hens.
Fred was away at one of the other estates but she’d had no interest in going with him.
She had her hands full here and at Sedgewick Manor.
She picked up her basket of gardening supplies and slipped her gloves on her hands.
She should hurry there now in fact—she’d pruned the Galician roses back hard before they had left for London and they had already budded out.
She felt certain they were going to bloom today and she wanted to be there to see it.
She gave one lingering glance behind her to the tall summer squashes that had grown like weeds as soon as the weather had warmed. And at the leafy greens that would soon turn bitter in the heat. The gooseberries and strawberries that were already showing their ripe red faces.
She began to walk. The sun blazed down on her as she went, hot for the first time in as long as she could remember.
Sweat beaded on her brow as she approached the Manor and she smiled in satisfaction.
She’d been correct—the first of the striped Galician roses had come into bloom.
She crouched by them and dug her pruning shears out of her basket.
She could cut a few and set them around both the cottage and the Manor.
She was so lost in thought she startled when a shadow fell over her, blocking out the sun. “You have dirt on your face, dearheart,” Fred said, towering over her. She looked up into his too-handsome-by-half face, and couldn’t help but grin.
“I like it there,” she said.
“Mmm…as do I. But a bride must look presentable.”
“Lucky for me, I suppose, that today is not my wedding day.”
“No. But I do have a bridal surprise for you, if you’ll come with me.”
“Do you now?” She let him lift her up and she wrapped her arms around him. “What kind of surprise?”
He bent his head to kiss her, slipping his tongue into her mouth and groaning a little as he did. “Mmmm..nevermind about that. Let’s go inside instead and I’ll give it to you later.”
Julianna pulled away, her smile wide and happy. “Oh, I think not. I’ll have my surprise now, thank you.” She paused. “And then you can take me inside.”
Fred felt his insides clench at his wife’s smile, as they always seemed to do. He wondered if he’d ever get tired of it and decided that no, he wouldn’t. He would still feel the visceral pull of her every day for the rest of his life, if he was so lucky as to have her by his side that long.
And he would be, if he kept his wits about him and the armor of Chester at a distance. He knew that now. Just as he knew he would have to forgive himself for not knowing it earlier. He needed the experience of love to teach him how love ought to work.
He took Julianna’s hand and led her toward the stables, keeping hold of it while the other pushed open the door. The familiar scent of hay and leather greeted them, warm and clean in the morning light. Hunter whinnied at him and pawed at the ground.
He led Julianna further inside and whispered, “Close your eyes, Jules.”
She studied his face for a long moment and then obliged, letting her eyes fall closed.
“That’s good,” he said. “Thank you.” And then when Hunter whinnied again he added, “You’re a good girl too,” which made them both laugh.
He led her past the tackroom and up the main aisle, his hand still tightly grasping hers as they walked. Eventually, he reached out to stop her.
“You may look.”
She opened her eyes. Standing in the nearest stall was a mare the color of warm honey, her coat gleaming gold in the filtered sunlight. Her mane was a shade darker, soft and thick and falling gently along her neck.
The mare turned her head at Julianna’s movement, ears pricked forward, dark eyes calm and curious.
“Tattersalls finally had what I wanted,” he said. “A beautiful mare for my beautiful wife.” He pressed a chopped carrot into her hand. “Go ahead and get to know her. Keep your fingers flat so she doesn’t bite them.”
“She’s truly for me?”
“She is. How else will I convince you to go riding with me?”
“Thank you, Fred. Really. What’s her name?”
“You’ll have to tell me after you’ve taken her out. Although I believe Moonbeam remains an option.”
Julianna let the horse nibble the carrot pieces from her palm before she reached up and stroked the mare’s neck. The horse leaned into her touch and Fred smiled in satisfaction.
“She likes you,” he said.
“Well, I suppose that’s a good thing because I do believe I’ve fallen quite hard for her.”
Fred felt a swoop of relief in his stomach. He’d been nervous about giving Jules a mare—he knew full well it was a present as much for himself as it was for his wife.
“If you’re up to it, we can take her out for a ride.”
“Now?”
“Unless you’ve something better to do. I do have something else for you, Jules, best seen by horseback.”
She grinned up at him. “Are you spoiling me?”
He pulled her into his chest. “I certainly am. As much as you’ll let me.”
She rose onto her toes to press a kiss to his mouth. “I see no reason to stop you, given how well you’re doing. I do love her.”
“I’m glad. I rather hoped you might.”
“And I love you.”
He closed his eyes for a moment at that, letting the joy those words produced flow through him. “Go change into a riding habit. There’s more I want to show you.”
She pressed her lips to his again, quickly and nodded. “Alright, I’ll be just a moment.”
True to her word, Jules was back in just a short while, the riding habit that Madame Tremaux had made for her swinging jauntily as she moved. He couldn’t help but grin even though he was suddenly, unaccountably, nervous.
She already said yes, he reminded himself and discreetly wiped his sweaty palms down the mare’s neck. But still he felt his heart beating hard in his chest as he helped Jules mount. He handed the reins to a groomsman while he went round to get Hunter.
“Are you ready?”
At Jules’s nod he led them out of the stables and down the familiar path that led away from the Manor. The air was warm, the sky an uninterrupted blue, and the hedgerows were thick now with summer growth. Bees droned lazily among the blossoms, and somewhere in the distance a bird trilled its song.
“Do you think our thrush is out there somewhere?” she asked.
“Oh, certainly. I can hear him now, singing his heart out.”
“You cannot,” she said, guiding her horse to follow his.
“But of course I can.” He tilted his head as another bird sang. “There he is now. Do you mean to tell me that you, my darling wife, do not even know the sound of our little bird? And to think you fashioned yourself its hero.”
“As I recall it, husband, that was you.”
She was laughing when she said it though, and it made his heart trill just as happily as that bird was doing.
“It certainly was not. I would never bestow such an overblown title on us. Recall I am the man who named my Irish Hunter Hunter.”
She laughed again as he turned them down another little path.
“Where are we going Fred?” she finally asked and he glanced at her over his shoulder.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
The church came into view as they rounded the next bend, its stone walls softened by climbing greenery, the small lawn around it dotted with wildflowers. It, like everything else, looked so different to him now at the height of summer than it had on the bracingly cold day when they’d married here.
“Oh, Fred!”
He heard her gasp as her eyes took in the lanterns that had been strung along the low stone wall, their glass catching the sunlight.
And the garlands of greenery and early roses that had been woven around the door.
Beyond, through the open threshold, she could see the pews had been decorated with neat, white ribbons.
And at the front, a gentleman stood ready to tune the organ.
“What is all this?” she murmured as Fred pulled Hunter up to her mare.
“Come and see,” he said, dismounting.
He tied Hunter to the nearest tree branch and then circled back around to help Julianna down. Then he led her up the short path and through the open door of St. Oswald’s.
Inside, the church was filled with light.
The windows had been thrown open, and the summer air moved gently through the space, stirring the ribbons and the flowers arranged along the pews.
At the front, near the altar where they had stood months ago, there was now a simple arch woven with white blooms.
And hanging just beyond it—
Julianna drew in a sharp breath.
Fred had hung her wedding gown there. He’d taken it to Madame Tremaux’s with a set of instructions so exacting the Frenchwoman had practically laughed in his face.
But the results were spectacular—it was still her mother’s gown, but now it was Julianna’s too.
As elegant and lovely as she was and precisely tailored to her frame.
“I hope you don’t mind but I thought—Jules—I wanted you to have this. Madame Tremaux assures me it can be changed back if you’d rather—”
“No!” She cut off his words. “No, Fred. It’s gorgeous. I hardly know what to say.”
“Say you’ll marry me tomorrow. Here, in a gown that’s all yours. In a church filled with flowers as it ought to be. With musicians playing one of your father’s songs. Say you’ll marry me properly.”
Julianna turned her head to look at him and he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. He was certain he had them too but he ignored them.
“I choose you, Jules. Again and again and again. You, exactly as you are. And I hope that tomorrow you will stand here and choose me. Exactly as I am.”
He gestured toward the space before them. “And if there’s anything you want done differently….anything you’d like to change…I’ll see it done.”
She looked around the space quietly for a moment. “It’s perfect,” she finally said. “But I can’t get married without Thomas here.”
“Of course you can’t. He should be arriving at the Manor any moment.”
She looked from him to the gown, to the sunlight spilling across the stone floor, to the place by the altar where they’d said their vows the first time.
“I was so angry that day,” she said. “Furious at what fate had had in store for me. Little did I know that fate was hiding the very best thing in my life behind the facade of the very worst.”
She laughed and stepped closer to him, grasping both of his hands in hers.
“Yes, I will marry you tomorrow. In that beautiful dress and with all these gorgeous flowers and my brother sitting in the audience. I will marry you every day if that’s what it takes for you to know that you are mine. And you are loved.”
His breath whooshed out of him. “Are you certain?”
She smiled through her tears. “More certain than I have ever been in my entire life. About anything.”
He made a little sound at the echo of his own words, and then he drew her into him, holding her tightly, as if he meant never to let her go again.
“Then tomorrow,” he said into her hair.
“Tomorrow,” she agreed.
Outside, in the summer light, their little thrush sang.