“I needed to be away. I was grieving Papa hard, and I needed some adventure like Mama’s poems or your Odyssey.”
“Go settle into a room upstairs. Don’t come down until my wedding tomorrow. This is Ruth. She’s my wife, and I’m marrying her again.”
His sister pointed at me. “Wait. You look like.”
“I am.” I was proud to be the woman Wycliff had first loved and would love forever.
She hugged me. “Ruth, Adam, there have been miracles while I’ve been gone. It’s good to know love doesn’t die.”
Cicely tossed her head and danced up the grand stairs. “Well, now you know, Brother, what it feels like keeping secrets. Being dead for four years should equal my two months away.”
She hummed all the way to the top landing.
Lawden came from the long hall, shaking his redheaded bob. He gathered up her trunks and followed behind Cicely. “You will be hiring more staff, Lord Wycliff, posthaste.”
Wycliff put his hands to his head. “Headache. I have a headache. She needs to be chastised, Ruth, for making this trouble.”
I put my arms about him to comfort him. I had more expertise in dealing with little sisters. “No. You need to be grateful that she has returned unharmed.”
He led me up the stairs. “Come, my dear. Help me find something.”
“What are you missing now?”
“Another moment alone with you. I’m spent.”
I leaped into his embrace, and he carried me up the stairs to heaven.
Epilogue
My morning wedding was beautiful, bright and early with all the windows of Blaren House open for the sun to come inside.
Ester, Mama, Clancy, and Mrs. Fitterwall made everything perfect.
White tablecloths on tables of treats.
Beeswax candles edging the grand staircase.
Mama’s three-tiered fruited cake with white bliss icing on the pedestal in the center of the hall.
Lady Hartwell and Mrs. Fitzwilliam-Cecil and their husbands brought silver and white bows to hang everywhere.
Cicely stood near Mama, and even with my poor vision, I saw how their faces radiated joy.
My sister was lovely in pink, and she was smiling at me and Wycliff. Then she turned to her tall husband, Bexeley.
Papa sat with baby Josiah. Chris was at his feet, playing with his toy frogs. Sweet Jonesy stood like Lawden, hovering in the rear, ready to help my father.
Wycliff, my Wycliff, trimmed his beard to just a shadow. He looked young, so handsome in formal dress—black pantaloons, a high ivory collar and swirly ebony-and-purple waistcoat.
I wore the brightest, boldest color gown that my closet held, deep violet with short sleeves and a lilac ribbon about the bosom. There were daisies in the lace collar about my neck. I felt like a queen, Wycliff’s queen.
He took my hand and kissed me when he I descended the stairs.
We said our vows again.
But this time it truly was forever.
When the ceremony ended, everyone went into the smallish back garden of Blaren House, but I watched them enjoy Mama’s hearty fare of beefsteaks and fowl from the threshold.
