Because she did. After all the heartbreak and loneliness, she and William both did. They had earned this joy.
Her father stepped back, and Lily squeaked with excitement, running to Violet’s side so she could hold her hand and lead her forward as though she’d been entrusted with a very important task.
“Are you ready, Mama?” she whispered up at her, eyes shining.
Violet nodded, and Lily’s smile bloomed.
William took a single step forward once they stood in front of him. Instead of reaching for Violet immediately, he bent first to speak to their daughter.
“Are you certain,” he asked solemnly, “that you’re willing to share your mama with me today?”
Lily giggled, the sound soft and delighted.
“I said yes yesterday,” she reminded him. “And this morning at breakfast. And while we walked here.”
William laughed quietly, leaning in to kiss Lily’s curls.
Then he rose and looked at Violet.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
He stopped, breath catching, a soft shake of his head saying the rest for him.
Tears gathered before she could blink them back.
She drew a steadying breath and looked toward the small circle of guests awaiting them.
There were only a handful.
Mr. and Mrs. Pembroke stood together, Gregory holding tightly to his grandmother’s hand, curious and wriggling withrestless energy, while little Alice beside him fussed with the ribbon on her dress.
Clara and Samuel stood just behind them, sharing a fond look as they watched their little ones.
The Harrows were close by as well, Mrs. Harrow fussing over an imaginary wrinkle while her husband endured the attention with quiet amusement.
Emily and Mary stood just beyond the rest, hands clasped, bright-eyed and beaming.
And just behind them stood Nathaniel, a quiet smile softening his features as he rested a gentle hand on each of his daughters’ shoulders.
Lady Ashford was not in attendance—by her own choosing.
Two weeks earlier, she had left for the quiet seaside estate the Ashfords had held for generations, a place she had always wished to see, though her husband never allowed it. She meant to spend her remaining time there, in peace. William lifted the old restriction that once bound her to Ashford Manor, and in doing so he set her free and laid the last shadow of the past to rest.
Violet felt no resentment.
Only release.
Their vows drifted softly beneath the great oak, simple, honest words carried upward into the swaying branches. A warm breeze swept through, bringing with it her mother’s quiet sniffle, Lily’s delighted little gasps as the wind lifted her petals, and the soft rustle of summer leaves shifting overhead.
The ring wobbled slightly as William tried to guide it onto her finger, the brief slip betraying his nerves. He steadied it quickly and murmured a soft “sorry” under his breath.
Then it was her turn.
Her fingers trembled as she slipped the ring onto his, and the sight of it settling there at last made her inhale sharply, a smile trembling into place as her eyes stung with overwhelming joy.
When the minister pronounced them husband and wife, William touched her cheeks with both hands, as though relearning the shape of something precious.
“I love you,” he murmured. “More now than even then.”
