“I will,” he croaked.
Uncle Atti nodded. “I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
He dabbed at his eyes. Rawlinson coughed.
“Finally.” Nana leaned back in her pillows, a contented expression on her face.
Uncle Atti produced the register. “Sign here.”
Viola picked up the pen and signed, then handed it on to Sebastian, who signed—before a shrill exclamation caused him to jerk up his head.
“She has passed away!” the maid wailed.
Viola burst into tears.
So did Uncle Atti.
Sebastian dropped the pen and fell on his knees next to her bed, heartbroken.
Nana. His sweet, loving Nana was gone.
Thus she passed on, Lady Regina Doveley, content knowing that two of her most beloved people had been married in her presence.
Chapter Five
These weredifficult and confusing times. The entire household was grieving.
Lady Regina had been beloved not only by her domestics but also by friends and neighbours alike.
After the wake and the funeral, a sombre stillness settled over Westwood Hall, a forlorn sense that a bright and kindred spirit had left forever.
Bastian buried himself in the study, lost in a sudden deluge of administrative and legal matters. Solicitors, lawyers, wills, accounts—the entire business had to be settled.
Uncle Atti had left immediately after the funeral. He embraced Sebastian and patted him on the back. “Everything will be just fine,” he murmured.
Somehow, the words were no comfort at all.
Then there was Viola. A helpless feeling overtook him every time she crossed his mind, and that was more often than not. The girl crept along the corridors like a ghost, with a pinched face and reddened eyes. She too had lost someone precious. Nana had been her godmother, friend, and confidante. Nana had been truly fond of the girl, and Viola seemed to have reciprocated those feelings.
He wished he could find the right words to comfort her, but he also knew that there were moments in life when words were entirely insufficient.
There was a tap on the door, and Rawlinson entered with another pile of documents that required his attention.
“Put them here.” Sebastian indicated the desk and returned to his letter.
When he looked up again, Rawlinson was still there, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. He cleared his throat.
“What is the matter?”
“I believe you had better have a look at this copy from the parish register, sir.”
He frowned. “Why is it here? Should it not be forwarded to my brother?”
Rawlinson cleared his throat once more and made a helpless gesture toward the paper. “Please look at it, sir.”
Sebastian picked up the document and skimmed it. “It appears perfectly correct to me.”
Rawlinson coughed. “Yes. That seems to be the difficulty, sir.”
