Page 3 of Charlotte's Story
Considering our arrangement, I hadn’t expected him to say anything like that. But maybe the word “treasure” meant something different to him. There was no point reading into it.
I stared at the box a second longer, and something squeezed in my chest. Not from nerves—at least, not entirely. But maybe… relief. Firth might not offer romance, but he gave me something just as rare: honesty. That was more than many people got.
I put the necklace on, sucked in a deep breath, and tightened my grip on my bouquet before heading into the chapel. The uncomfortable wooden benches were packed to capacity except for the front row. There were few things Austen Heights loved more than a chance to celebrate, gossip, and eat good food.
The suspended snowflakes shimmered with a faint enchantment, frozen midair like tiny stars, and the red ribbons and wreaths lining the aisle danced with a draft that hadn’t touched my skin. Over a hundred floating candles hung above us—Lizzy’s charm, my handiwork. Excellent promotion for my future shop. Their small flames flickered off the polished wooden pews, and the smells of peppermint, chestnut, and clove calmed my nerves.
Firth waited for me at the end of the aisle in a puddle of colorful light filtering through the stained-glass window. Brexton, the junior pastor, stood ready to officiate the ceremony next to a raised pulpit.
I made it to the end of the aisle, and, after a moment, Firth jerked and reached for my hand as if he’d forgotten about that part. Or maybe he was debating if this was considered an unnecessary display of affection.
Brexton cleared his throat and was about to start the service, but Firth shook his head.
“We can’t start yet,” he whispered to Brexton.
“Why not?” the junior priest whispered back.
“Because Lady Catherine isn’t here yet.” Firth tilted his head toward the empty first row, his fingers tracing the edge of his cuff.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. This was my life now, and I’d better get used to it if I wanted this arrangement to work.
Brexton looked around. “Oh, um, well what would you like us to do? You’re both here now and the town has gathered, and—”
“If we were to exchange our vows before her arrival it would be a huge slight.” Firth shook his head sharply, eyes flicking to the door and back. A stray lock of brown hair slipped free from his carefully styled hair; he paused, then brushed it behind his pointed ear with deliberate care, as if resetting a pattern. The longer we waited, the more fidgety Firth became as we got farther from the scheduled time.
Firth’s half-dragon shifter nephew let out a shout, and Firth flinched at the sudden noise, his shoulders hunching in response. His sister hushed the child, but the murmurs in the chapel grew louder. I glanced atOkaa-san, who was still smiling slightly—nothing could dim her relief at finally seeing her oldest daughter married—and whispering something to her sister, ChiyoObasan.
The doors swung open behind us, and everyone turned to face the newcomers.
Lady Catherine De Bourgh swept into the room in a stunning red dress at the front of a small entourage. Each of her steps were measured and purposeful, as if she bore the weight of every pair of eyes. And she did, at least in the chapel. Even as a human, I could almost sense the air shimmering around her, like her fae power was too majestic to be ignored. She was one of the most distinguished highborn fae in the country, and it was an honor tohave her at our wedding. It was so unusual to see them in town that a few of the townspeople couldn’t seem to decide where to look, at me or the newcomers.
A woman who must’ve been her daughter walked behind Lady Catherine, her black hair swept into an elegant side bun. Her head was down, but it was hard to tell if it was because she didn’t want to be there or if she was embarrassed at her mother’s entrance. Behind them walked a man and woman in sharply tailored dark clothes who were about three feet tall. Their pointed ears, slitted pupils, and furry bodies marked them as brownies. Their kind didn’t often settle in town, but Firth had mentioned that these two had worked at Rosings Park for decades. They weren’t servants exactly, more like caretakers—steadfast, meticulous, fiercely proud of their work, and extremely loyal to whatever house they lived in.
Lady Catherine walked to the front row and claimed it, fanning out her skirt so it took up half the space. “Lady Catherine, what a pleasure it is to have you visit this humble chapel,” Firth said. “It’s never looked better than when you’re in it.”
I shot Lizzy a look where she stood a few yards away with my other bridesmaids, and as expected, she could barely contain her amusement. It danced in her blue eyes and betrayed itself by the appearance of her single dimple.
Brexton cleared his throat again and met Firth’s gaze. “Can we begin now?”
Firth glanced once more toward Lady Catherine, who inclined her head as if she were the queen herself instead of just her sister.
“Of course.” Firth straightened and turned back to the front.
The ceremony was dry, though probably not as dry as if Firth had conducted it. Before I knew it, I was Mrs. Collins.
At the end, Firth turned back to me, his fingers tracing the edge of his cuff again even though his gaze was unblinking. “Can I kiss you now?”
A few people in the audience laughed, but I smoothed a hand down the side of my kimono under his relentless attention and whispered, “Yes.”
Firth hesitated another moment before pressing his lips softly to mine, sealing our agreement with a kiss instead of our signatures.
There were no butterflies, just the smell of cinnamon and the steady weight of his touch—a dependability that promised stability in place of romance.
After a moment, Lady Catherine cleared her throat and Firth pulled back. We moved outside for the reception, where tables and chairs were set up for people to eat and mingle. A flurry of well wishes followed as what seemed like the entire town came to talk to us. After a few hours, Firth and I got caught up in different conversations, but at least it meant we could cover more ground that way.
Tessa, a friend from high school, grinned as she ducked under an enchanted mistletoe that floated above, nudging couples to kiss. “Congratulations, Charlotte. I hope you’ll be happy.”
“Thanks, Tessa. Glad you came. I wasn’t sure if you’d be on duty today or not.”
