Page 41 of Yours Always
Matthew laughed, a real laugh, bright and absolutely unguarded. “We’ve waited this long,” he said, pulling her close again, “we’ll do it properly. Exactly as you deserve.” She beamed at him, joy shining in every line of her face. “You’ve always been everything I deserve.” He kissed her forehead, letting the moment settle. And this time, when the words took root inside him, he didn’t pull away. He let them stay.
Sarah paused, quieting. “There is something else,” she said, her voice low. Matthew’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”
“My father has decided not to sell Somerton.” She drew in a breath. “He wants to sign the estate over to you, just as he was going to do for Benjamin. The house. The land. The accounts. Everything.” Matthew stared at her, stunned. “And he would do it even if you hadn’t proposed.” Her eyes searched his, “No conditions.”
She reached for his hand, her touch warm and certain.“But it is your choice. London, Somerton, Scotland...wherever you want to go, whether we have everything or nothing at all.” Her voice caught gently. “I will be there with you.” Matthew kissed heragain, and in that kiss he anchored every vow, every unspoken promise, every part of himself he had once believed unworthy of being loved.
In that moment there was only her. Only them.
And it was more than enough.
______________________
Sarah stood frozen in the doorway, her heart pounding hard against her ribs. Matthew’s hand was warm and steady around hers, anchoring her when her knees felt ready to give out. The scent of lavender hung softly in the sitting room, mingling with the faint crackle of the fire. It was quiet, familiar, and yet something in the air felt charged and waiting.
Grace sat near the hearth, a half-finished embroidery hoop resting forgotten in her lap. She looked up at the sound of the door, and the moment her eyes landed on Sarah and Matthew, she knew. Sarah watched it unfold in slow motion: the breath catching in Grace’s throat, the embroidery slipping from her fingers without a thought. Tears welled in Grace’s eyes so quickly it was like something inside her had broken loose. She rose, trembling.
Without a word, Sarah released Matthew’s hand and rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Grace tightly, desperately, as if neither of them could stand without the other. Grace sobbed into her shoulder with a force ripped from somewhere deep. Sarah held her tighter, her own tears falling freely now, unrestrained.
“You found your way back to each other,” Grace whispered, her voice breaking as her hands came up to cradle Sarah’s face. Sarah laughed softly through the tears, pressing her forehead to Grace’s. “You wouldn’t let us do anything else.” Grace gave an unsteady laugh, her body shaking with it, attempting a smilethrough the grief. The laughter quickly faded, leaving behind a fragile stillness. Sarah drew back slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just... I just wish Ben were here.” Grace’s face crumpled, her chin trembling as she nodded. “So do I,” she choked. “He would’ve been so proud of both of you.”
Matthew stepped forward then, his presence a steady reassurance at Sarah’s side. He knelt beside Grace’s chair, taking her hand without hesitation. They stayed like that for a long moment, three pieces of the same shattered heart, holding one another together.
“Seeing you both...”Grace said after a while, her voice thin and trembling, “it reminds me that life doesn’t end with grief. That love doesn’t truly die.” Sarah closed her eyes, feeling another wave of tears rise, but this time, they weren’t just from sorrow. She leaned her head against Grace’s shoulder. “I’ll never stop missing him,” she whispered. “But you’re right. He would want us to live, and to love.” Grace nodded slowly. “He would have demanded it. You know how bossy he could be.”
Sarah smiled through her tears, feeling the familiar ache, but also something new blooming quietly inside her. Matthew rose to his feet, his hand finding Sarah’s once more. He laced their fingers together, his thumb brushing gently along her knuckles. “We wanted you to be the first to know,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Sarah has agreed to marry me.”
Grace’s breath caught, but the sob that escaped her wasn’t grief this time. It was joy. The kind of joy that hurt because it brushed so close to sorrow. She surged forward, wrapping them both into her arms, laughing and crying at once. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispered into Sarah’s hair. “Truly, truly happy. Thank you, for allowing me to be a part of this joy after everything.”
Sarah clung to her. She felt Matthew’s hand warm at her back, steady and sure. “You’re not just a part of it, Grace,” shemurmured. “You are our family. You always will be.” Matthew’s voice was quiet above her head. “Always.”
They stood together in the flickering firelight, a fragile circle of healing and memory. Benjamin wasn’t there, not in body, but he was part of that moment. He was part of them still. And for the first time, Sarah felt certain that somehow, they would be alright. They would find a way to keep living, and they would carry Benjamin’s love with them every step of the way. Always.
Epilogue
June 1855
Somerton - Berkshire, England
Sarah sat perchedon the window seat of her new home, her fingers trailing absently over the linen curtains, her gaze fixed on the fields stretching beyond the orchards. Late afternoon light bathed everything in golden warmth. The grass swayed in the breeze, tenant cottages dotted the horizon like brushstrokes on a painting, and from somewhere down in the orchard, laughter drifted on the wind.
Somerton. Their home. Their future. Sometimes, Sarah still couldn’t believe it was real. So much had changed in just a few short months. Their world had shattered; losing Benjamin had been a wound none of them would ever fully heal from. Sometimes when she looked toward the small grove of trees where she and Benjamin had once played for hours under thesummer sun, her chest ached with a longing so fierce it stole her breath.
He should have lived here. He should have built his future here with Grace. That grief would always be with her, but alongside it now was gratitude for the life she had, for the love that had survived, and for the child she carried beneath her heart. Sarah pressed her palm to her stomach, a quiet smile tugging at her lips.
Her gaze drifted to the orchard path. Matthew stood speaking with one of the new tenant farmers, his hands tucked in his pockets, face animated and open. Even from here, she recognized the easy slope of his smile, the steady confidence in his posture. He wasn’t just a landowner, he was building something. A home. A community. A legacy.
She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, eyes closing briefly as Matthew clapped Mr. Havisham on the back and turned toward the house. Her heart swelled. She loved him, more deeply than she had ever believed possible. Somehow, by grace, grit and the stubbornness of two broken hearts, they had found their way to each other.
“You’re thinking too hard again.” She turned at the sound of his voice, smiling as she found him in the doorway. His sleeves were rolled, his hands still dusty, but his eyes were soft. “I was just thinking about Grace,” she said, brushing a hand over her skirts. “What she’ll feel when she steps inside this house. If it’ll be too hard. If she’ll—”
Matthew crossed to her in three strides, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands. “She’ll love it,” he said gently. “Because you are here.” Sarah looked down at him, her thumb brushing the back of his hand. “You always know the right thing to say.”
“That is not true,” he replied, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “I just get lucky more often than I deserve.” Thesound of wheels crunching over gravel reached them, faint but unmistakable. Sarah stood, her fingers tightening around Matthew’s. “That’s her.” He gave her hand a final squeeze before stepping out to greet their guest.
Grace stepped down from the carriage, her bonnet slightly askew, her expression unreadable. She wore a simple traveling dress, elegant despite its modesty, and her eyes were heavy with memory. Matthew extended his hand. Grace took it, her gaze drifting up toward the house. Her breath caught. “This life suits you, Mr. Fenwick,” she whispered.
“It suits us all better with you here,” Matthew replied gently. “We’ve missed you.” Grace’s voice thickened. “I’ve missed you,” she murmured. “I didn’t realize how much until now.” Just then, Sarah appeared on the front steps. Grace turned and their eyes met. She didn’t say a word. She rushed forward, closing the distance in an instant, and threw her arms around Sarah with the force of a crashing wave.
