“I couldn’t let you do this alone.”
Tears welled up in Rose’s eyes.
“No tears,” Mary ordered. "It will ruin your complexion.” Then, as Rose struggled to hold them down and step out of the carriage, Mary let out a long whistle.
“Oh my lord Rose, what are you wearing?”
“Ernest chose it. Ambrose said he always had an eye for fashion.”
“I’ll say. It’s exquisite.”
Mary assisted her in neatly arranging the veil behind her. Rose knew where she was despite the lack of markers—itwas their spot. She couldn't believe he'd done this to her. Only she and he knew how special this part of the river was. Not even Mary knew the extent of his betrayal.
Rose allowed her sister to lead her the last twenty meters to the tree line. She stopped her just before they got there. “I don’t think I can do this,” she said, gulping down the panic. Her heart had begun to race in her chest, and she felt so hot.
“You know you can. All you have to do is hold on to my hand and follow me.”
“But I don’t love Ernest,” she whispered to Mary. “You were right. I shouldn’t be marrying anyone I don’t love.”
“You can’t let him down now.”
“No, I can’t. But how can I give up on Will?”
“He had his chance,” Mary said gently. “You said yourself this was the most sensible decision all around.”
She knew Mary was correct, but when had she sided with Rose, a side she wasn't sure she wanted to be on anymore? She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. It would all be over in about twenty minutes, and she now knew she could build a stable life with Ernest.
She let Mary pull her veil forward, hiding her face behind it, and then returned her hand to her sister's firm grip.
“Alright, I am ready.”
Mary must have signaled to someone because she heard the music start. It sounded like a string quartet playing in their clearing. The music had a calming effect on Rose as she rounded a tree, and a magical scene was laid out in front of her.
There was a huge arch of flowers at the end of an aisle strewn with pink rose petals. Chairs covered in white slips were ranged on either side of the aisle and hanging in the branches of the trees were Lily of the Valley blooms. She could see the musicians now and people seated in the chairs who rose as she and Mary came into view. The only saving grace was that it didn’t look anything like hers and Will’s grass clearing. It was unrecognizable.
Standing at the end of the aisle, next to the flower arch, was Ernest. He, too, wore primarily white, with white breeches, a white shirt and cravat, and a white vest, thrown only into relief by a powder blue dress coat which set off his newly slim figure perfectly. He looked very handsome. His hair was elegantly styled, and his stomach was almost as flat as hers. He was grinning at her as she stood at the other end of the aisle.This could have been so much worse, she told herself, as Mary began to lead her over the rose petals.
Theo and Tara were standing on their chairs, waving at her, being restrained by Jacob. She saw her cook, housekeeper, and servants all looking at her with kind faces. Somehow, Anna and Jennings had gotten there before her. They were both smiling. Some of the townspeople she knew well were there, and then on the left, she realized were Will’s sisters and mother.Why were they here?She wondered. Had Will just been filling chairs, or did they really want to see her marry someone other than their son?Focus, Rose, focus.Forget him.
As she got halfway to the flower arch, her hand firmly clutching Mary’s, she saw someone else step into the aisle next to Ernest. It was Will!Had he truly let Ernest choose him as his best man? Rose felt sick. Her step faltered, but Mary held on to her tightly.
“I can’t,” she whispered to her sister.
“Yes, you can. Keep walking.”
“What is he doing here?” she hissed.
Rose supposed she should have known that if Will was arranging the wedding he would probably attend. For some reason, it had not crossed her mind. Now she was just ten feet away and would have to do this while he stood next to Ernest. If there was any greater form of torture, she did not know what it was.
She could feel Will watching her walk towards him. She did not dare look at him. She kept all her attention on Ernest. All she needed to do was block him out. But the closer she drew to the Duke, the more she could feel her body betraying her, reaching out for Will, a tingling in her middle and limbs. She held Ernest’s gaze like a lifeline. At least his blue eyes were wide with appreciation.
“You look… simply amazing,” Ernest said as she reached him. Rose smiled at him through the veil, hoping to keep the flood of tears from welling up in her throat. She hoped she would appear to be just another emotional bride. Rose expected Mary to ignore Ernest, but she reached out to squeeze his arm as she stood next to her.
The vicar was smiling widely, framed in the flower arch, which did indeed have roses, carnations, and lilies in it— just as she and Will had planned more than a decade ago.
Don’t look at him.
“Let us begin,” the vicar exclaimed above the hubbub of the gathered guests, and Rose felt her stomach turn upside down. “Who gives this woman to wed this man?” Rose looked at Mary, but Ernest suddenly said, “I do.”