The wedding day finally arrived.
The manor was bustling with activity. The bride's bouquet and floral crown were delivered early in the morning, and the maids sprinkled water on them to keep them fresh. The wedding tradition of something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue was observed meticulously. Despite the tight schedule, the Hilds purchased a new dress for Jennifer and sewed lace from Susan's wedding dress onto it, finishing the hem with a blue trim. As for something borrowed, Susan was at a loss until Mike offered his mother's jewelry.
"Jennifer is like my niece too. I'd like to contribute to her wedding," Mike said.
"Thank you for your generosity."
Jennifer emerged, ready for her big day. She wore an exquisite gown, a white floral crown, and the blue gemstone necklace that Mike had lent.
She looked elegant and dignified.
"You look beautiful," Mike said sincerely. "I suppose I should start calling you Mrs. MacLeod."
"I will miss you," Jennifer replied, her eyes red. The baroness's health didn't allow her to attend the ceremony at the church, so Jennifer had to bid farewell at her mother's bedside.
Mike sighed, thinking such sadness was ill-suited for a wedding day. "Don't worry, we will take good care of Mrs. Hild," he reassured her. "Be happy; this is your wedding day."
Jennifer managed a tearful smile, turning away to dab at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Baron Hild, well-regarded in the town, had many guests attending the ceremony. In the church, parents held their children's hands tightly, maintaining decorum and solemnity. The wedding was officiated by the local bishop, a well-respected man in his sixties who was in excellent health. The choir's hymns were pure, lending a sacred air to the proceedings.
Mike found his thoughts wandering.
He had long lost any hope of a conventional marriage. Realizing he was attracted to men had made it clear he could never enter into a respectable relationship. But the solemnity of the ceremony, the bishop's deep, aged voice, and the inherent sanctity of the vows stirred something within him.
For a moment, he felt as if he heard the gospel from heaven.
But it was only an illusion.
When he snapped back to reality, the church was empty except for him. Mike rubbed his eyes, feeling a sudden wave of fatigue and melancholy.
Someone approached, placing a hand on his shoulder. Assuming it was a priest, Mike didn't shy away. The warm palm on his nape was reassuring.
Mike slowly relaxed.
"Thank you..." he began, looking up to express his gratitude, only to find himself gazing into a pair of blue eyes.
It was Vincent.
Mike tensed up instinctively, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, every nerve on edge. He tried to pull away, but Vincent held his nape firmly, leaning down to look at him silently.
Mike pursed his lips, stubbornly meeting his gaze.
Then Vincent leaned in and kissed him gently.
It was a kiss devoid of desire, an exchange of breath and warmth in the solemn, empty church.
God watched them silently.
The kiss didn't last long. Mike pushed Vincent away when he moved in for another, standing up to leave.
But the soft sensation lingered on his lips. It would fade in time, but not now, not here.
The Hild Manor was bustling with activity as servants made final preparations. In her room, Jennifer changed into her dress while a maid carefully arranged her hair.
Vivian entered. "The ball is about to start."
Jennifer nodded.
She stood, her expression calm and composed, showing neither the joy of a bride nor the sorrow of leaving home.
Vivian took her hand.
"When do you leave?" she asked.
"Tomorrow morning."
They exchanged a glance.
"Don't say anything. I don't want to cry."
"Alright."
The two ladies completed their final farewell in the hallway leading to the ballroom.
The ball was a grand event for Hope Town, with nearly every notable person invited. People danced and chatted, the music mingling with laughter. Gentlemen twirled young ladies around the floor, and even Mike was not an exception, inviting ladies for four dances before finding a chance to slip away for a breath of fresh air.
The night air was getting chilly, and a breeze rustled through the trees, making Mike shiver. The lively atmosphere inside was almost overwhelming, so he headed to a side door where a staircase led upstairs. Remembering that Susan couldn't attend Jennifer's wedding due to her health, and having been busy all day, Mike decided to visit her and have a chat.
The servants were all downstairs, and the hallway was empty. Mike reached Susan's room and was about to knock when he noticed the door slightly ajar, voices coming from inside.
"Madam..."
It was Luther's voice.
Mike stood at the door.
For some reason, he chose not to knock and enter. Perhaps the recent events had made him feel that everything around him was not as peaceful and perfect as before. Or maybe it had never been, just a facade.
Beneath the heavy ice lay turbulent currents.
Susan's voice was not loud but very stern. "You must take good care of Jennifer. Promise me, now."
"You have my word," Luther replied politely.
It sounded like a mother instructing her daughter's husband, which made Mike inexplicably relieved.
But Susan's tone didn't soften after Luther's promise.
"Take her away tomorrow morning! As soon as the sun rises!" she said urgently. "Jennifer has a dowry of five thousand pounds, enough for you to live comfortably."
"Yes, madam."
Luther's voice remained humble and soft. But Susan's words shocked Mike, making him lean closer to the door, peeking through the crack.
Luther stood slightly hunched by Mary's bedside. Susan's hair was disheveled, her appearance haggard, but her demeanor was serious and dignified.
Satisfied with Luther's attitude, Susan's tone softened a bit as she continued.
"I've spoken with the lord. Once Jennifer has an heir, the lord will send you an additional hundred pounds each year."
"Remember our agreement."
Susan's voice turned stern again.
"Of course, madam."
"I will remember it well."