For a long moment, no one moved.
Then Thomas let out a breath that sounded like it had been held for decades.
"Well," he said. "I had not anticipated this."
The tension broke. People started talking again, processing what they had witnessed. The whispers now were different, not scandalised or pitying, but amazed. Impressed. Even admiring.
"Did that really just happen?" Lydia asked.
"I think so." Frederick looked shell-shocked. "I think my aunt just gave us her blessing."
"After spending a week trying to destroy us."
"Yes."
"That is very confusing."
"Welcome to my family." Frederick pulled her into his arms, holding her like he was afraid she might disappear. "I should probably mention that we have several more relatives just as complicated. You're going to meet all of them eventually."
"I can't wait."
"That is sarcasm, is it not?"
"Absolutely."
He laughed, a real laugh, surprised and joyful, and kissed her again, right there in front of everyone.
This time, no one seemed scandalised at all.
***
The celebrations flowed from the church and into the village square.
It started small; a few people lingering outside, congratulating the happy couple, offering handshakes and embraces. But within minutes, word had spread through the village, and people began to appear from everywhere: from the public house, from the bakery, from the cottages that lined the main street. They brought wine and ale and food, whatever they had on hand for a Sunday dinner, now repurposed for an impromptu celebration.
Someone produced a fiddle. Someone else brought out a drum. Within the hour, the village square had transformed into a festival ground, complete with music and dancing and more well-wishes than Lydia could keep track of.
"I didn't know villages could mobilise this quickly," Frederick said, watching as Mrs Thompson directed the placement of tables like a general commanding troops.
"You've clearly never been to a village wedding. Or a village funeral. Or really any village event that involves an excuse to drink." Lydia squeezed his hand. "We take our celebrations seriously."
"I'm learning."
Robert the carpenter approached, a cup of ale in each hand. He offered one to Frederick with a gruff nod.
"You did well today," he said. "In the church."
"Thank you."
"I wasn't sure about you, at first. I thought you might be like your grandfather, who was all ice and no heart. Or like yourfather; all duty and no soul." Robert's weathered face cracked into something approaching a smile. "It turns out you're your own kind of Hawthorne. The kind that fights for what he loves."
"I'm trying to be."
"That's all any of us can do." Robert raised his cup. "To trying. And to the woman who taught you how."
They drank.
The miller's wife appeared next, dragging her husband behind her. She wanted to know about the wedding; when it would be, where it would be held, would there be a feast for the village? Her husband wanted to know about the roads; would the new lord actually fix the drainage problem he'd promised to look into?
