Epilogue #2
Joan stood frozen, overwhelmed by the beauty of it, by the love and care that had gone into this moment. Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them back furiously.
Victoria appeared at her side, pressing a handkerchief into her hand. “Don’t cry yet,” she whispered. “Save it for the ceremony.”
Octavia took Joan’s other arm, and together they began walking toward the cathedral. With each step, more petals fell, until Joan was walking through what felt like a living garden.
She saw Timothy openly weeping, his weathered face wet with tears. His wife patted his arm consolingly, but she was crying too. Other villagers called out blessings:
“God bless you, Your Grace!”
“May you have many happy years!”
“The Duke is a lucky man!”
Joan smiled and nodded to them all, her heart so full she could barely breathe.
At the cathedral entrance, Damian waited. He stood tall and proud, his arm extended for her to take. When their eyes met, Joan saw her own emotions reflected back at her.
“Ready?” he asked softly.
“Ready,” Joan confirmed.
She released Octavia and Victoria, who hurried ahead to take their places. Victoria would stand as Joan’s attendant during the ceremony, with Octavia beside her.
Joan slipped her hand through Damian’s arm, and together they stepped into the cathedral.
The organ swelled into life, playing a triumphant processional that echoed off the ancient stones. Every head turned to watch as Joan began her walk down the aisle.
She barely saw them. Her eyes were fixed on the altar, where Laurence waited.
He stood beside Hugo, who would serve as his groomsman. But Joan saw only Laurence.
He wore a formal evening suit in black and silver, tailored to perfection. The clothes made him look every inch the powerful duke he was, commanding, aristocratic, intimidating.
But his face, his scarred, severe face that had frightened so many people, was transformed by the smile that spread across it as he watched her approach.
It was the most beautiful smile Joan had ever seen. Open and unguarded and full of such radiant joy that it made her own smile widen in response.
His eyes never left her face. Not once. He watched her with an intensity that made her feel like the only person in the world, like everything and everyone else had faded away until only the two of them remained.
He’s beautiful, Joan thought.
Damian walked slowly, giving Joan time to take in the moment. As they passed each row of pews, Joan caught glimpses of smiling faces. Friends and neighbors and students, all of them beaming with genuine happiness.
Finally, they reached the altar. Damian stopped and turned to face Joan. For a moment, brother and sister simply looked at each other, a lifetime of shared experiences passing between them in a glance.
Then Damian carefully lifted Joan’s hand and placed it in Laurence’s outstretched palm.
“Take care of her,” Damian said, his voice carrying clearly through the hushed cathedral. “She’s the most precious thing in the world to me.”
“I will,” Laurence promised, his voice equally clear and steady. “I swear it on my life and honor.”
Damian nodded, satisfied. He pressed a kiss to Joan’s cheek, then stepped back to take his seat in the front pew beside Victoria and Octavia.
Joan turned to face Laurence fully, and the world narrowed to just the two of them. His hands were warm around hers, strong and steady. She could feel the slight roughness of old scars, the gentle pressure of his fingers.
The vicar, Imogen’s father, stepped forward with a warm smile. His voice, when he spoke, was rich with genuine approval.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and these witnesses to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony…”
Joan barely heard the opening words. She was lost in Laurence’s eyes, in the way he looked at her as though she was something infinitely precious and miraculous.
The vicar spoke of love and commitment, of partnership and devotion. He spoke of the sacred bond between husband and wife, of the joy and responsibility of marriage.
And then came the vows.
“Laurence Whitby, Duke of Ashcroft,” the vicar intoned, “do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”
Laurence’s hands tightened around Joan’s. His voice, when he spoke, was steady and sure and loud enough for everyone in the cathedral to hear.
“I do. With all my heart and soul, I do.”
The vicar turned to Joan. “Joan Sinclair, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”
Joan felt tears slip down her cheeks despite her best efforts to hold them back. But her voice was clear and strong.
“I do.”
“The rings, if you please.”
Hugo stepped forward with a velvet cushion holding two gold bands. Laurence took the smaller ring and slid it onto Joan’s finger with infinite care, his eyes never leaving her face.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” he said softly. “With my body, I thee worship. With all my worldly goods, I thee endow. This is my solemn vow.”
Joan took the larger ring with trembling hands and slipped it onto Laurence’s finger. “With this ring, I thee wed. With my body, I thee worship. With all my worldly goods, I thee endow. This is my solemn vow.”
The vicar raised his hands over them in blessing. “By the power vested in me by the Church and the Crown, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He smiled broadly. “You may kiss your bride, Your Grace.”
Laurence pulled Joan close with one arm around her waist and one hand cradling her face, and he kissed her with such tender passion that the entire congregation erupted into thunderous applause and cheers.
Joan melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, kissing him back with all the love and joy and relief flooding through her.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless and flushed and grinning like fools, the cathedral was in chaos. People were cheering and clapping and calling out congratulations. The children threw more flower petals into the air. The organ launched into a triumphant recessional.
Laurence and Joan turned to face their guests as husband and wife, and the cheering grew even louder.
Hand in hand, they walked back down the aisle together. Joan caught glimpses of tear-stained faces on both sides, Victoria openly sobbing into Octavia’s shoulder, Damian wiping his eyes and trying to look composed, Timothy beaming proudly, the children jumping up and down with excitement.
They emerged from the cathedral into brilliant sunshine. More villagers had gathered outside, and they threw rice and flower petals as the newlyweds appeared. Someone had decorated the carriage with even more flowers and white ribbons that streamed behind it like banners.
The celebration at the Duke’s mansion was spectacular. The ballroom had been transformed into a wonderland of flowers and candles. Tables groaned under the weight of elaborate dishes. Music filled the air.
Joan was surrounded by well-wishers when three small figures pushed through the crowd.
“Miss Sinclair!” Imogen gasped, then corrected herself. “I mean, Duchess! You look so beautiful!”
Percival and Edmund nodded vigorously, each pressing small wrapped packages into Joan’s hands, gifts they’d clearly made themselves with painstaking care.
“Thank you, darlings,” Joan said, fighting back tears yet again. “These are wonderful.”
Timothy approached next, his own gift in hand, a beautifully carved wooden box. “I’m so proud of you, Miss, that is, Your Grace. Watching you find happiness… well, it does an old heart good.”
“Thank you, Timothy. For everything. You’ve been such a support.”
A woman approached timidly, wringing her hands. Joan didn’t recognize her at first.
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” Timothy said quietly. “This is Mrs. Alderton. She wanted to speak with you.”
Recognition dawned. This was the woman who had falsely accused Percival of theft, the incident that had first inspired Joan to start the school.
Mrs. Alderton dropped into a low curtsy. “Your Grace, I came to apologize. For what I did to young Percival, for the wicked lies I told. I was desperate and cruel, and I’ve regretted it every day since.”
She held out a simple wrapped package. “My son attends your school now. He’s learning to read, something I never dreamed possible for him. You’ve changed our lives. I’ve changed, Your Grace. I swear it. I’ll never victimize another child as long as I draw breath.”
Joan studied the woman’s face and saw genuine remorse there. She accepted the gift with a nod.
“As long as you keep that vow, all is forgiven. Every child deserves education and kindness.”
Mrs. Alderton’s eyes filled with grateful tears. She curtsied again and hurried away.
Timothy smiled at Joan. “You don’t understand how many lives you’ve changed. Not just the children, but entire families.”
Before Joan could respond, she felt warm hands settle around her waist. She leaned back instinctively into Laurence’s solid chest. Timothy smiled and he left quietly.
Hugo appeared with Damian, both men grinning. Behind them came Octavia and Victoria, chatting and giggling together like old friends.
Hugo chuckled as he observed Laurence’s possessive hold on Joan. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ashcroft this demonstratively affectionate in public. It’s rather alarming.”
“Indeed,” Damian agreed with mock concern. “I’ve never witnessed the Duke smile this much. It’s quite unsettling.”
Laurence was murmuring something in Joan’s ear that made her laugh. Octavia leaned toward Victoria and whispered, “It’s truly uncanny to see him like this.”
Victoria nodded, her own smile wide. “I’ve never seen my sister so happy either.”
Laurence looked over at them, his arms still around Joan’s waist. “What are you all gossiping about?”
“Nothing!” they chorused quickly.
Octavia, desperate to change the subject, blurted out, “I was thinking, I’d like to teach at the school. I learned mathematics from my tutors, and I believe I could be useful with the children.”
Joan’s face lit up. “Octavia, that would be wonderful! I plan to resume teaching soon, and having your help would be-”
“You will not be resuming teaching soon,” Laurence interrupted firmly. “We have a honeymoon to attend to first.”
Joan blushed scarlet. “Laurence! Not in front of…”
Hugo burst out laughing. The others quickly made their excuses and drifted away, leaving the newlyweds alone, or as alone as one could be in a ballroom full of guests.
Laurence leaned close to Joan’s ear. “I haven’t had a moment alone with you since this morning. Come with me.”
“Now? But the guests…”
“Can celebrate without us for a little while.” He took her hand and led her purposefully toward the doors.
They slipped out into the corridor and made their way to the waiting carriage. The moment they were both inside with the door closed, Laurence pulled Joan onto his lap and kissed her with the hunger he’d been restraining all day.
Joan melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he pressed her back against the plush seat. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck just below her ear.
“You smell divine,” he murmured against her skin. “Like flowers and happiness.”
He pulled back just enough to kiss the tip of her nose, his expression tender now. “I’m blessed to have married you. Blessed beyond measure.”
Joan cupped his face in her hands and she stroked his scars. “I’ve never been this happy. Sometimes I think this must be a dream, that I’ll wake up and find none of it was real.”
Laurence leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers. “It’s not a dream, Joan. This is real. We are real. And I intend to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”
He captured her lips again, and Joan lost herself in the kiss, in the warmth of his embrace, in the beat of his heart against hers, in the certainty that she had finally, finally found where she belonged.
She had learned not to hope, not to dream, not to want anything for herself. But now, in Laurence’s arms, Joan allowed herself to want everything. And for the first time in her life, she believed she might actually have it.
The End