Chapter Fifteen #4
"Excellent." Helena clinked her glass against Vanessa's. "You deserve it. Both of you."
"Thank you, Helena. For everything."
"That is what friends are for." Helena's eyes sparkled. "Now, tell me…when the wedding is because I wish to discuss the bridemaid dress…”
Vanessa laughed. "All in good time my dear."
A flutter of movement near the doorway caught her attention.
Aunt Bertha hovered at the threshold of the drawing room, clutching her reticule with white-knuckled hands.
Her round face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed, and she kept glancing between Vanessa and the nearest exit as though calculating the odds of escape.
"Oh dear," Helena murmured. "Your aunt looks rather like she is facing the gallows."
She did. Vanessa's heart clenched with sudden sympathy. Poor Aunt Bertha had been carrying the weight of her "terrible mistake" for weeks now, weeping into her knitting, apologising every time they crossed paths, convinced she had ruined her niece's life by accidentally sending those letters.
She had no idea she had actually saved it.
"Excuse me a moment," Vanessa said, handing Helena her champagne glass.
She crossed the room, weaving through clusters of well-wishers until she reached her aunt's side. Aunt Bertha saw her coming and immediately began to tremble.
"Vanessa, dear, I…I know I should not have come, but your mother insisted, and I thought perhaps…
that is, I hoped…" Her voice cracked. "I am so dreadfully sorry.
I know I have said it before, but I cannot stop thinking about what I did.
Those letters were private, and I sent them without your permission, and now the Duke has read all your most intimate thoughts, and it is entirely my fault, and I would not blame you if you never spoke to me again… "
"Aunt Bertha." Vanessa took her aunt's trembling hands. "Please...."
"…because I know how mortifying it must be, knowing he has seen everything you wrote, all those feelings you never meant to share, and I have been so worried that he might use them against you somehow, or that he might think less of you, or…"
"Aunt Bertha." Vanessa squeezed her hands firmly. "Look at me."
Her aunt's watery eyes finally met hers.
"Do you see this?" Vanessa raised her left hand, where the emerald ring glinted in the candlelight. "I am betrothed to the Duke of Montehood. The man I have cherished and been devoted to for six years."
"Yes, I…I heard. Your mother told me." Aunt Bertha's lower lip wobbled. "But that does not change the fact that I…"
"You sent those letters. And because you sent them, Martin finally knew how I felt. And because he knew how I felt, he stopped keeping his distance. And because he stopped keeping his distance, we are now engaged to be married."
Aunt Bertha blinked. "I... what?"
"You did not ruin anything." Vanessa smiled, her eyes suddenly bright with tears of her own. "You fixed it. All those years of us both being too stubborn and too afraid to speak, you cut through all of it with one accidental postal delivery."
"But…but the letters…all those embarrassing things you wrote…"
"He read every word. And he still holds me in the highest of esteem anyway." Vanessa laughed, a little wetly. "His affections actually grew. He said the letters showed him who I really was, beneath all the polite smiles and careful conversations. He said they gave him hope."
Aunt Bertha's mouth opened and closed several times, like a fish suddenly discovering it could breathe air.
"So you are not... angry with me?"
"I was. For about five minutes." Vanessa pulled her aunt into a hug. "And then I realised that your mistake was the best thing that ever happened to me."
Aunt Bertha made a small, strangled sound against her shoulder, something between a sob and a laugh.
"Oh, my dear girl. My dear, dear girl." She pulled back, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. "I have been so wretched. You cannot imagine. I have barely been able to sleep, thinking about what I had done."
"Well, you can sleep now. Everything worked out exactly as it should."
"Because of me," Aunt Bertha said slowly, as though testing the words. "It worked out... because of me."
"Yes."
"Because I sent the letters."
"Yes."
"So in a way..." Aunt Bertha's expression underwent a remarkable transformation. The guilt melted away, replaced by something that looked suspiciously like dawning pride. "In a way, I am responsible for this union."
Vanessa suppressed a smile. "One could argue that, yes."
"I brought you together." Aunt Bertha straightened her spine, her chin lifting. "I saw an opportunity, and I... I took action."
That was not precisely how Vanessa remembered it, her aunt had been horrified when she'd realised what she'd done, but she decided not to quibble.
"You certainly did."
"Well." Aunt Bertha tucked her handkerchief away, her entire demeanor shifting. "Well. I suppose I have always had a gift for seeing what people truly need. Your mother says I am too meddlesome, but I prefer to think of it as... intuitive. Perceptive."
"Very perceptive," Vanessa agreed, biting the inside of her cheek.
"I knew, you see. I knew those letters would reach the right person. I felt it in my bones." Aunt Bertha nodded sagely, conveniently forgetting the weeks of tearful self-recrimination. "A woman's intuition is never wrong."
"Lady Wayworth! A word, if I may?"
They both turned. Martin was approaching, having apparently extracted himself from Lord Haberton's clutches. His expression was warm, his gaze moving between Vanessa and her aunt with obvious affection.
Aunt Bertha immediately went pink. "Your Grace! I…that is…congratulations on your betrothal. My niece is a wonderful girl. The very best girl. I have always said so."
"She is." Martin stopped before them, his eyes meeting Vanessa's for a brief, tender moment before returning to her aunt. "And I understand I have you to thank for it."
Aunt Bertha's blush deepened. "Oh, well, I…it was nothing, really…"
"It was not nothing." Martin's voice was sincere, all traces of his usual sardonic edge absent.
"Those letters…they changed everything. I had spent six years convinced I could never have what I wanted.
That I had no right to even hope. And then your package arrived, and suddenly.
.. suddenly I could see a future I had never dared to imagine. "
"Your Grace." Aunt Bertha pressed a hand to her chest, her eyes welling up again, but this time with happy tears. "That is... that is the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me."
"It is only the truth. So thank you." Martin took her hand and bowed over it with all the grace and formality of a duke addressing a queen. "Thank you for being brave enough to send what my future wife was too cautious to send herself."
"Brave," Aunt Bertha breathed. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I was rather brave, wasn't I?"
Vanessa caught Martin's eye. He winked at her a small, private acknowledgment that they both knew perfectly well Aunt Bertha's "bravery" had been entirely accidental. But what did that matter? The result was the same.
"You were indeed." Martin released her hand. "I hope you will allow me to thank you properly once we are wedded. Perhaps a place of honor at the wedding breakfast?"
"Oh!" Aunt Bertha clutched her reticule to her chest. "Your Grace, I could not possibly, that is to say, of course I would be honoured, though I am sure there are others far more deserving…"
"Nonsense. Without you, there would be no wedding." He smiled. "I insist."
Aunt Bertha looked as though she might swoon on the spot. "Then I... I accept. Graciously. As one does."
"Excellent." Martin offered Vanessa his arm. "Now, if you will excuse us, I believe I owe my fiancée a dance. If she will have me."
"Always," Vanessa said, taking his arm.
As they moved away, she glanced back at her aunt. Aunt Bertha had already cornered Lady Haberton and was speaking animatedly, her hands moving in expansive gestures. Vanessa caught fragments of the conversation…
"…knew from the very beginning, of course. A woman's intuition…"
"…I simply saw an opportunity and seized it…"
"…one might say I am entirely responsible for this match…"
Vanessa laughed softly. "She is going to treasure this story for years."
"Let her." Martin's thumb traced circles on her wrist. "She deserves to. Accidental or not, she did give me the greatest gift of my life."
"Flatterer."
"Truth-teller." He pulled her into the space cleared for dancing, where a few other couples were already waltzing to the string quartet's gentle music. "I meant what I said, you know. Those letters changed everything."
"I know." She stepped into his arms, her hand finding its familiar place on his shoulder. "I am glad she sent them. Even if I wanted to end her life when I first learned of her doings."
"And now?"
"Now I want to give her a place of honor at our wedding and possibly name our first daughter after her."
Martin's eyebrows rose. "Bertha Hale? That is quite a name for a duke's daughter."
"Perhaps as a middle name, then."
"I can accept those terms." He swept her into the dance, his lead sure and steady. "Though I should warn you, if we are discussing children, I have certain opinions about names."
"Oh? Such as?"
"Nothing from the letters. You had some rather creative suggestions for what we might name our hypothetical offspring, and I feel compelled to veto 'Astrophel' before you can propose it again."
Vanessa groaned. "I was eighteen. And I had just finished reading Sidney."
"You wanted to name our son after an Elizabethan poetry character."
"It means 'star-lover.' It's romantic!"
"It is absurd. The child would never survive Eton."
"Fine. No Astrophel." She narrowed her eyes. "But I am not naming any child 'Harold' after my father. Or 'Reginald' after yours."
"Agreed. We shall find something neither star-inspired nor ancestrally obligated." He dipped her, his smile softening. "We have time to decide. We have all the time in the world."
All the time in the world. The words settled over her like a blessing.
Across the room, Martin caught her eye. He smiled that private smile, the one that was only for her and mouthed something she could not quite make out.
I cherish you, she mouthed back.
His smile widened. He turned back to Lord Haberton, but she could see the warmth in his posture, the lightness in his movements. He was happy too. As happy as she was. As ready for this future they were building together.
Six years of waiting. Six years of silence.
And now, finally, the beginning of forever.