The sisters, who had gathered at the chapel doors, broke into spontaneous applause. Some were clapping timidly, while others were cheering outright. Even the abbess’s lips twitched into a restrained, knowing smile.
Matilda pressed her face into Jasper’s shoulder, laughing through her tears. “You’ve caused an absolute scandal,” she murmured.
He held her tighter, spilling his voice warm and low against her ear. “Then I suppose we shall have to live with it.”
She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Under God’s sky, then.”
“Under God’s sky,” he repeated, smiling against her forehead.
And as the sunlight bathed them both, Matilda realized that perhaps vows made here in the open air, in the presence of faith and forgiveness, were not so very different from those spoken at an altar.
But as the noise quieted, Matilda turned, her eyes finding the abbess standing in the open doorway of the chapel. Her veil stirred gently in the breeze, and the light behind her made her seem almost carved from gold and shadow.
Matilda stepped forward, untangling herself gently from Jasper’s arms. Her heart still raced, but her voice was sincere.
“Mother,” she said, dipping her head. “I owe you an apology. I did not mean to bring such disorder into your house of peace. I only—” She faltered, glancing back at Jasper, then finding the abbess’s calm gaze again. “I only meant to find quiet. And now I fear I have shattered it.”
The abbess smiled faintly, the kind of smile that held more wisdom than reproach. “You have not shattered it, child,” she said gently. “You have merely reminded us that peace and stillness are not always the same.”
Matilda blinked, startled by the kindness in her tone. “You are not angry?”
“Angry?” The abbess’s smile deepened. “No. I have lived too long to mistake love for chaos. When you first came to our gates, I looked into your eyes and saw no calling to our silence, only grief. It was clear that you sought refuge, not faith.”
Matilda’s lips trembled. “I thought if I stayed long enough, I might learn to forget.”
“And now?” the abbess asked quietly.
Matilda turned her head toward Jasper. He was watching her with that same unguarded tenderness, as if she were something sacred he dared not touch too roughly. Her heart gave a small, aching flutter.
“Now I think forgetting was never the answer,” she said softly. “Only forgiving. And perhaps, beginning again.”
The abbess nodded once, as though she had been waiting for that answer all along. “Then it is well. You were never meant for these walls, Lady Matilda. Your spirit was too bright, too restless. I am glad this young man came when he did. God often works through the foolish courage of those who love.”
A gentle and knowing ripple of laughter passed through the nearby sisters. It almost made Matilda wonder if this hadn’t happened before.
Jasper, half-smiling, bowed slightly to the abbess. “Then I must count myself doubly blessed, madam, both foolish and courageous.”
The abbess’s eyes sparkled. “Indeed, young man. But I suspect you shall make up for your intrusion by cherishing her well.”
“I intend to,” he said, and the quiet certainty in his voice made Matilda’s heart twist.
The abbess stepped forward, resting a hand lightly on Matilda’s cheek. “Go, child. Leave this place with peace in your heart. You have found your path, and it is not here among us.”
Matilda’s eyes stung. She took the abbess’s hand in hers and pressed it to her lips. “Thank you for your kindness, and for seeing me more clearly than I saw myself.”
The abbess inclined her head. “It is not I who saw you, my dear. It was God, and He sent someone equally stubborn to bring you home.”
Jasper gave a soft, almost reverent laugh. “I shall take that as divine approval.”
The abbess chuckled lightly. “Do. But remember, love, like faith, must be tended daily, or both will fade.”
Matilda turned to Jasper, her heart swelling with gratitude, wonder, and something fierce and fragile all at once. He extended his hand to her.
And as she placed her hand in his, the abbess stepped back toward the chapel and said quietly. “Go with my blessing, my children. And may peace follow you both, though I suspect your lives will be far livelier than ours.”
The sisters laughed again, their soft applause following them as Jasper and Matilda turned toward the sunlight.
Matilda looked back one last time and met the abbess’ gaze. The old woman smiled, and in that moment, Matilda understood: peace had never been a place.
