Chapter 3
Chapter
NOTICE OF CLOSURE
Parish of St. Oswald’s, Dorset
The Right Honourable Frederick Sedgewick, Earl of Chester
and
Mrs. Julianna Sedgewick, Countess of Chester (née Farrow)
The said service to be conducted before witnesses, and to include the renewal of vows formerly made, together with a Blessing of the Union, according to the rites of the Church of England.
Parishioners are further advised that the Church has been newly restored and made fit for Divine Service, and that the usual offices during the above hours will therefore be suspended.
By order of the Bishop and with episcopal consent,
Dr. Ellicott, Diocesan
Julianna watched her husband standing at the altar as she made her way up the aisle.
Her Adonis, her darling, her Fred. He was beautiful, there was no denying it, but Julianna hardly saw the chiseled lines of his jaw or the tousled blond curls now.
What she saw when she looked at him were blue eyes alight with love.
A heart that courage had blown wide open.
A man who could have retreated behind the armor of his title and his money but hadn’t.
He’d come forward instead and laid himself bare to her.
There was no one she admired more. And no one else she wanted to share her life with.
Her eyes glanced over at her brother while she walked.
He’d arrived the day before from Torquay, looking as healthy as was possible.
Though his shoulders were thin in his overcoat and the hollows of his face pronounced, he too looked content.
Happy to have her settled with Fred, happy to have mended the rips of their relationship with his sister and closest friend.
There was a murmur of the gathered guests as she passed.
They hadn’t invited many people, but the ones who had attended were those they had each wanted to be there.
Faces that made her happy. She stopped at the altar and stood by Fred’s side.
His suit was exquisitely cut of course, the fabric fitting the breadth of his shoulders to perfection, the fine summer weight wool of his trousers draped beautifully over his powerful thighs.
But it was nothing compared to the dress he’d made for her. She’d shed tears of pure joy when she’d tried it on last night. Between the modiste’s talent and her husband’s precision they had turned her mother’s wedding dress into the ivory muslin and lace concoction of her dreams.
A soft rustle went through the pews as Julianna reached her hands out and Fred took them in his own.
And then another as the officiant lifted a hand and nodded to the organist who began to play her father’s favorite melody.
The one that always made her mother say she’d fallen in love through her ears.
So have I, Mother, Julianna thought. I’ve fallen in love through my eyes and my ears and my heart. Through every part of me.
She felt the tear as it purled down her cheek. Fred lifted his handkerchief and tenderly brushed it away.
“I love you, Jules,” he whispered, so low that only she could hear him.
“I love you too,” she whispered back.
When the music ended, the Bishop raised his hand. “Who presents this woman,” he asked, his voice reverberating through the church, “to stand once more before God and this congregation, and to renew the vows of marriage freely and of her own will?”
Thomas stood from his place in the pew. He moved slowly, carefully supported by Mrs. Sykes.
It took him longer than it once would have and Julianna felt the difference keenly—how he had to pause to draw in his breath.
How it took his nurse and his cane both to hold him upright.
But she saw too that when he finally straightened his eyes were bright with love.
And his mouth curved in that familiar, irreverent smile she’d known every day of her life.
And that he was healthier than she’d seen him in a long, long time.
“I do,” he said clearly. “Wholeheartedly.”
A ripple moved through her chest, and she felt close to tears again.
Especially when he held her gaze and whispered, “I love you, Julie-bug.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered back to him and then turned back to her husband. Fred squeezed her fingers lightly in his own.
“Ready?” he murmured.
“I am,” she said.
How different this felt from their first ceremony. How perfectly a mirror of that other one. All the same ingredients but a vastly different experience.
“You may read your vows,” the Bishop said, inviting them to speak.
Fred went first, his blue eyes never leaving hers as he spoke the words he’d written himself.
“Julianna,” he said, and she loved the sound of her name on his lips. “I stand before you today and I recite these vows of my heart.”
His thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles as he spoke.
“I vow to speak the truth to you, plainly, even when it costs me comfort. I vow to trust you with my fears, and to honor yours. I vow to walk beside you in lockstep, through whatever light or darkness may come. And I vow to make a memory worth being carried forward in your heart, every day for the rest of my life.”
She clung to his hands while he spoke. Emotion tried hard to sweep her away on its wave but she didn’t want to be overcome—not yet. She wanted to be here, grounded in this moment with her husband, for a little while longer.
“You may speak now, Lady Chester,” the Bishop said and Julianna took a deep breath before she began.
“Frederick,” she said, keenly aware of so many things at once: the warmth of the church, the weight of her mother’s gown, the tender press of Fred’s hands anchoring her own.
“I vow to meet you as you are, no matter which version of you has chosen to make himself known. I vow to offer you the most generous assessment of every action either of us makes, and I vow to offer and receive forgiveness with the most expansive heart I can. And I vow to build this life together with you, piece by piece. Truth by truth. Memory by memory until we have both grown old. I vow to love you—you, Fred—because you are extraordinary and fallible and wonderful and mine. Today, and every day that fortune and fate allow us to be together.”
Fred gripped her hands and she saw that it was his turn, now, to shed tears. She gently took his handkerchief and wiped them away from his eyes while the Bishop spoke the blessing.
When he finished, Fred reached into his pocket and produced a key on a chain. Instead of a ring, he slipped it over her neck.
“What is this?” she whispered to him quietly.
“A wedding gift.”
And then he lifted his hands to her face and cupped them there, staring into her eyes for a long moment before his lips met hers.
When they turned at last to face the small congregation, Julianna felt happiness bubbling out of her, like laughter rising up through her stomach and chest and throat. The crowd cheered for them and Fred held his hand out to her.
“Are you ready, dearheart?” he asked. “There’s a luncheon waiting for us at Farrow Cottage. That is, if its new proprietress allows us to eat there.”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked as they made their way back down the aisle, hand in hand.
“The key, Jules. To Farrow Cottage. It’s not entailed, you know, only willed to the male relatives of your line. Or it was. Before I bought it for you.”
“You did what?”
“I paid your cousin off. For the cottage. The key is currently hanging around your neck.”
“Without asking me?”
He turned to her and tried to arch an eyebrow snidely but she knew he couldn’t help the grin he flashed her. “I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want it.”
“Of course I want it,” she said. She’d never wanted anything more than this day with this man and this key hanging around her neck.
That glorious feeling of champagne bubbles and songbirds and joy traveled with her, back out of St. Oswald’s and through the carriage-ride to Farrow Cottage.
The Cottage had put its best foot forward for their wedding day, just as the church had done.
The garden outside was teeming with life, the hens were gossiping, and the windows had been thrown open to let in all that warm air.
The oak table just across the threshold was laden with their wedding luncheon, prepared by the new chef at Sedgewick Manor and Fred himself.
They’d outdone themselves with the feast: platters of cold meats and roasted vegetables, hot hand pies and fresh bread still warm at the center, strawberries glistening in cream, and a wedding cake that was as generous as it was unfussy.
For Thomas, an oxtail soup, a barley lentil soup, and a chicken broth seasoned to perfection.
Her brother sat near her, flushed and pleased, eating with more appetite than she had seen in a year or more. Mrs. Sykes sat on his other side, beaming her approval. Gilbert hovered at a respectful distance until Fred forced him down into a chair.
Julianna lifted her glass and looked down the table at her husband.
Her husband, her Fred.
He was laughing at something Thomas had said, unguarded and free, and the sight of it filled her with another kind of joy. This one was quiet and steadfast.
“To my husband,” she said, lifting her glass.
Fred lifted his glass in return. “To my wife. I love you, Jules. Forever.”