Page 78 of Passion Painted in a Lady's Heart
Rosalind smiled.
“I’ve made the right choice, mother. That’s what,” she replied, and glancing up at Sebastian, she held out her hand to him.
He took it, kneeling at the duchess’ side, the two of them looking down at her, as she sighed and shook her head.
“I just wanted you to be happy, Rosalind,” she said, and Rosalind placed her hand on her mother’s arm.
“But can’t you see I am, mother? Sebastian makes me happy. That’s all I need. And if it’s what you want, too, then give us your blessing,” she said.
The duchess sighed.
“Very well, Rosalind, you have it for what it’s worth, you have it,” she replied, and Rosalind now turned to Sebastian, who leaned forward and kissed her, the happy prospect of marriage now awaiting them, a new portrait for a new day.
Epilogue
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this Congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…” the rector began, pronouncing the words from the prayer book, as Rosalind and Sebastian stood before him.
The church was a small one, and the congregation matched its size. Rosalind and Sebastian were joined by Elizabeth and John, Rosalind’s mother and father, along with Molly, the maid. They had invited no one else to witness the ceremony, and there was to be no grand celebration to follow.
All that mattered was their vows, and exchanging them before God. Rosalind was wearing a pretty dress, white linen, with a lace trim, and Sebastian was dressed in a new blue frock coat and breeches. He looked very dashing, and as Rosalind had entered the church escorted by John, owing to her father’s gout his fact had lit up with a smile.
“I love you, Rosalind,” he whispered, as the rector pronounced the final words of the service, closing his prayerbook as the small congregation apart from Rosalind’s father stood.
Her mother had resigned herself to this moment, and during the carriage ride that morning, she had expressed a hint of gladness at the fact of Rosalind’s marriage.
“Married to an earl… there could be worse things, Rosalind,” she had said, and Rosalind had smiled, taking her mother’s words as a sign of tacit approval.
“Congratulations to you both,” Elizabeth exclaimed, as she and John hurried to greet the newly married couple.
Sebastian and Lord Cuthbert shook hands, and Elizabeth and Rosalind embraced. Rosalind could not have felt happier in that moment, and now she slipped her arm into Sebastian’s, the man she could now call her husband.
“But what will you do now?” John asked, for there was not even to be a dinner or formal reception.
Rosalind and Sebastian glanced at one another and smiled.
“We go to Norfolk tomorrow, but spend the night here in London. Rosalind’s parents have graciously allowed us to reside with them overnight, and we’ll leave first thing in the morning,” Sebastian replied.
Rosalind was glad they would be spending their first night together in the very place she had painted them as Ariadne and Dionysus. She had a surprise for him, and having thanked the rector, and paid their dues to Rosalind’s parents, the two of them set off by carriage, returning to Rosalind’s house, where Molly had prepared the room for them.
“So, this is where you paint, is it?” Sebastian said, as Rosalind closed the door behind them.
“In secret, yes. But it doesn’t need to be in secret now, does it? I can paint whenever I wish, and wherever I wish. But we haven’t even decided where we’ll live or what we’ll do,” Rosalind said, for their marriage had been a hasty one, and the practicalities of the future had not yet been decided on.
“I think you’ll like Norfolk. There’s a little village there, right on the coast, with brightly painted houses, and I have a dream of painting you there, in a room flooded with light, as you recline for me in front of a window, looking out to sea,” Sebastian replied.
Rosalind laughed. She liked the idea, and now he took her in his arms, kissing her as she slid her arms around his waist.
“Then you shall. But there’s something I want to show you a present for you,” she said, as their lips parted.
He held onto her hand, wanting to keep her in his embrace, but she pulled him towards an easel in the corner, where a canvas was covered with a drape.
“Can I pull it back?” he asked, and she nodded, holding her breath, as he reached out to pull back the drape.
The material fell in folds, revealing the canvas beneath, and Rosalind smiled as Sebastian’s eyes grew wide with delight. The painting was of them not in the character of a Greek myth, or imagined in some dreamlike setting, but together, reclining in the nude, their hands clasped together, Rosalind’s head resting on Sebastian’s shoulder. They were gazing into one another’s eyes, their lips almost meeting in a kiss, a scene of passion and love.
“Do you like it?” she asked, and he nodded.
“I think it’s beautiful, Rosalind, as beautiful as I so often imagined you, when I couldn’t hold you as I do now. But nothing compares to this,” he whispered, turning to her, and slipping his arms around her.
