Page 76 of The Ones Left Behind
“If he and Hornsby do not kill one another on the journey,” Kitty murmured.
“It will not be easy for Henry. He was not brought up to do anything other than be a gentleman and indulge himself. Even though it is warm there, the climate can take some getting used to. And he will need to humble himself to learn the ways of the people in order to win their respect. I think Hornsby will be a great asset in helping him adjust.”
“Then it is a blessing Hornsby thought to accompany him.”
“Now he is gone I may admit the fact that, unfortunately, Hornsby will be difficult to replace. However, there are many veterans who will need work. Come inside now, my love. I believe we both need a few hours’ rest before we send for Mr. Henderson.”
* * *
In the end,it was the next day before they were able to arrange the wedding. Once everyone had returned from seeing Henry depart, they had fallen into their beds for a well-deserved rest. Sighing as her head touched the pillow, wistfully recalling her love’s kisses, Kitty had fallen asleep reflecting that even though she had no wish for a fancy wedding, she still wanted it to be perfect.
Matthias had sent a note to Mr. Henderson, who, when he called the morning following Henry’s leave-taking, was easily convinced that the banns had been sufficiently called and was pleased to be called upon to marry them.
The previous afternoon, Kitty, with the help of the Duchess and Lady Amelia, had been able to decorate the drawing room, opening it up into the adjoining conservatory for the occasion.
“I am pleased we were able to be here for the wedding,” the Duchess said as they arranged flowers in vases, “although I am sorry events happened as they did with respect to Henry.”
Lady Frances squealed with glee. Seated on the floor, she was merrily pulling more petals from a bunch of rose heads than, Kitty suspected, they had in the vases.
“At least he is safe. ’Twould been a different day all together if Worth had caught him,” Amelia added. “I did rather expect a wild chase.”
“You need not sound so disappointed.” Meg shook her head.
“I think he will enjoy having an estate to manage. The Henry I know will find a way to manage,” Kitty remarked.
“And now we have something to celebrate,” the Duchess said as, tired of her game, little Frances tugged on her mother’s gown to be picked up.
Carpets had been rolled up and furniture moved away to be replaced with tables for dining. Vases of roses, in an array of colours from white to yellow to pink, and the scent of the garden filled the room. Kitty could not have been more pleased.
The next morning, Millie helped Kitty dress in one of the beautiful gowns Matthias had ordered from London. It was a simple cream and silver confection which seemed as though it had been made for this occasion. Kitty smiled. “Perhaps it was,” she said softly. It was just the type of thing Matthias would have planned for, and it suited her style perfectly.
Millie arranged Kitty’s hair in a pile of curls atop her head, weaving a string of pearls through her honeyed caramel locks. Kitty had never felt more like a countess than she did at that moment. Years ago, she had dared to dream of such a thing but that dream had turned to ashes beneath a large, searing flame in the form of the old Earl’s tongue. She had learned cruelly the cost of wishing above her station.
Now it felt as though both of them had paid harsh debts of war and widowhood, and she hoped they would find happiness at last.
A knock on the door announced the arrival of the Duke and Duchess, come to escort her to the chapel.
“You look beautiful, Kitty,” Meg said.
The Duke held out a small box to her. “Matthias asked me to give these to you.”
Kitty accepted the small, ornately paper mâchéd box painted with intricate little flowers and birds and opened it.
“These belonged to his mother,” she said as she took the string of pearls and matching earrings.
“He said she would have wanted you to have them.”
Kitty nodded tearfully, knowing how pleased the Countess would have been to see this day happen. The Earl, on the other hand, was no doubt rolling over in his grave. He had not been a horrible man, just a prideful aristocrat. It was not as if Kitty had been born a guttersnipe. She had been related to the Countess which he had seemed to forget. That was all past now and Kitty for one knew she would appreciate her position more for what she’d been through. Certainly, she would never take Matthias or her home for granted.
“I found this in my things. I had meant to give it to you before, but this seems like a perfect occasion,” the Duke said and he held out Peter’s old satchel, which she thought had been lost.
In it were his favourite things—his hunting crop, a silver flask which matched one Matthias had, his worn leather journal, and inside a smaller pouch were his old pocket watch and small, golden band she’d given him in that other wedding day so long ago. Today was utterly different.
“Thank you.” There was little else to say, but perhaps having his things would help bring closure.
The chapel was a short walk from the house. It was a small structure of golden stone, matching the house, with Gothic arches and vibrant stained glass windows. The towered steeple attached to the church was almost as large as the chapel itself.
When they entered the nave and Kitty saw Matthias standing before the altar, waiting for her, she felt humbled and grateful, as though her life had merely been a journey to this moment. He had donned his regimentals for the occasion, still presenting an impressive figure despite his infirmity. The way he looked at her near stole her breath away. She felt like a sweetmeat ready to be devoured.
