“Is that cabinet made of iron?”
“Yes. It may look like a cabinet to you, but it’s a safe.”
“It must weigh a ton.”
“At least. Interesting, isn’t it? I’m told it’s been sitting right in this spot for more than a hundred years.” As she talked, she slipped her fingers along some decorative pieces, apparently finding a few release mechanisms, because all of a sudden three keyholes appeared. “The keys have to be used in a certain order,” she explained, using the ones she’d brought with her to complete the sequence. “And then...” He heard a loud click before she pulled a hidden lever and the door swung open. “There we go.”
The safe was neatly filled with boxes and trays made of wood, leather, and velvet. “There we go, indeed,” he repeated, fascinated.
She grinned and reached inside, removing a long, thin black leather box.
“These are my colored stones,” she said, in answer to his unasked question. She flipped a flap cover to reveal a single neat row of small paper packets. Pulling one out, she opened the precisely folded paper and placed the contents in his hand.
“It’s beautiful.” He marveled at the large red heart-shaped gem. “Ruby?” he guessed.
“Correct! It’s flawless, so it deserves to be made into something very special. I’ve been working on a pendant design.” She plucked it from his palm, her fingers flying as she refolded the paper around it in a complicated pattern. Even having seen her do it, Jonathan doubted he could make such a parcel from a plain rectangle of paper.
She replaced the packet and flipped through a dozen or more. On the fronts, Jonathan glimpsed nonsensical numbers in tiny, precise handwriting. With a smile and a nod, she finally pulled one out and unfolded it, revealing a much (much!) smaller opaque green stone.
“It’s jade,” she said “A perfect oval cabochon—and just the right size to be the last stone in my ring.”
“Jade…” He thought for a moment before the answer came to him. “Does C stand for Claire? If so, then could your wedding ring spell out Claire l-o-v-e-s…Jonathan?”
She nodded vigorously. “You solved it!”
“Claire loves Jonathan.” His heart swelled. “Does she?”
“She does.” Wearing a mischievous grin, she dropped a deep curtsy. “I love you, your grace.”
This time, he couldn’t chide her for the your grace. He was too busy laughing. “I love you, too.” He caught her up and twirled her around (slightly jostling the stool beneath Kippers, who leapt to the floor with a plaintive mew). “And the ring is perfect—or it will be, once it’s finished. I can’t wait to put it on your finger tomorrow.”
She smiled into his eyes. “You’d better clear off, then, and let me get to work.”
After stealing a kiss, Jonathan went in search of his coachman. A series of inquiries sent him zigzagging about the castle grounds, strolling down to the village, and ducking into the Black Horse, where at last he met his quarry. Unfortunately, the fellow had fallen deep into his cups (for which Jonathan could scarcely blame him, given he’d been off duty and it was Christmas Eve).
There was nothing for it—Jonathan had to go fetch the license himself.
Luckily, the clear weather held, and the waxing moon gave a tolerable amount of light. By way of an absurdly enormous tip, Jonathan enlisted a hardy-looking groom to ride alongside him. They took turns bearing a lantern to further aid the horses’ footing. After hours in the saddle followed by an apprehensive foray into his dark and silent house, he felt sure of disappointment—but at once discovered the license awaiting him on his desk.
They made splendid time on the return journey, and Jonathan even scraped an hour or two of sleep before the clanging of church bells roused the castle to joyous worship. After the two nights he’d spent at Greystone—one on a horse, one on a torture device masquerading as a sofa—small wonder if he did nod off in the family pew, what with its benches and walls all upholstered in velvet. But at the conclusion of the Christmas service, he came instantly awake, all fatigue drummed out of him by the jitters of anticipation.
The Greystone party filed out with the rest to mill about the churchyard. St. Michael’s was a typical country church drenched in charm, and today the picturesque scene was enhanced by the snow blanketing its sloped roof, the bells ringing out cheerily, and all the pink-cheeked parishioners turned out in their Christmas best.
But Jonathan saw none of it, for he was keeping his eyes on the vestibule.
When at last it yielded the stout form of the Reverend Mr. Hanley, Jonathan made to alert Rachael—quite unnecessarily, he saw at once. For Rachael had already pounced, and within ten minutes had Claire and Jonathan installed before the altar and the vicar opening his Book of Common Prayer.
The ceremony was short, simple, and perfect. If Jonathan felt perhaps the tiniest of pangs at his mother’s absence, he reminded himself she had buttered her own bread, and everyone else he’d grown to love was here. Noah stood up as his best man, while Claire had her two sisters for bridesmaids and Griffin to give her away. Wearing a cream-colored velvet dress and a lace veil, she carried a bouquet of Elizabeth’s dried flowers. Jonathan carried the ring.
It was over in a trice. Vows and ring were exchanged, the parish register signed, and they were married. It had happened so fast that Jonathan felt it would be many hours before the reality truly sunk in—and many weeks before he could at all acclimate himself to so much happiness.
For her part, Claire was likewise in disbelief. She and Jonathan, married? Impossible! After such a run of bad luck as they had faced!
Yet somehow, it was true. Four wedding days, twelve miserable months, and one accidental poisoning later, at long last Fate had seen fit to bring them together—though just yesterday Claire would have sworn that fickle entity was determined to keep them apart.
But today, from Claire’s vantage ground, all was sunshine and serendipity. Since childhood she’d watched countless weddings at St. Michael’s, all with the same traditional words echoing round the old, familiar edifice, which having stood for six centuries already, seemed bound to endure at least that many more. Now it was Claire’s turn, and as she underwent the ritual, she felt the presence of all those couples who’d come before and all who would come after.
Most especially she felt the presence of her parents, married on this very spot some twenty-odd years ago. She felt their love for her and their blessings upon her marriage—upon the new family she was creating with Jonathan. Though her parents were no longer able to guide her, she knew she would always be guided by their example. For it was they who’d shown her what a loving marriage looked like.
