"Shall we, Mrs. Brandon?" Christopher mused with a smile, offering me his arm.
"What a splendid idea, dear husband," I agreed warmly, sliding into his hold, and gathered up the skirts of my dress in my other hand. And then together, we left the chapel as husband and wife.
We were greeted by many familiar and smiling faces as we emerged from the church; Christopher smiled demurely, I however, had the brightest of smiles unabashedly adorning my face. Christopher lifted me into the carriage with sure hands about my waist, and then climbed inside himself. "Throw the coins! Throw the coins!" the children about us chanted. Christopher withdrew a black coin purse, reached inside, and then threw a handful of coins into the air. Another round of cheers erupted and that caused Christopher and me to smile at one another. Once all the coins were thrown and pocketed, Christopher motioned for the carriage to take us to the wedding feast awaiting us at Delaford.
Later in the evening, the food had been cleared away and replaced with a band of musicians, whom promptly began to play a light, romantic melody. Christopher rose from his chair beside me and asked, "May I have the honour of dancing with my wife?"
"You need never ask," I answered, and took his proffered hand.
He led me smoothly onto the vacant dance floor, and twirled me about before drawing me close once more. "Trust me," he whispered when he saw the latent apprehension in my eyes. He led me around gracefully, and I had eyes only for him. "I seem to be under some enchantment, or my eyes deceive me, for I must have in my arms one of the ethereal naiads of legends. You look beyond the meager parameters of beauty, my love," he murmured poetically.
I blushed and hid my face in his chest; I turned so that my head rested against his chest. "You look quite handsome in uniform, why is it I have never seen you in it before?" I asked faintly.
"Have I ever had the necessity?" he mused wryly.
"Must you be so- so...blast," I sighed.
"A statement, my wife, and a hesitation- two points for me," he chuckled softly. I heard and felt the rumble in his chest, and my reaction was goose bumps that erupted down my arms and the length of my spine. The song ended, and Christopher led me back to our table; as the song ended, I saw a man whom I did not know escorting an extremely pale Elinor out. "Excuse me, Christopher, I must see to something," I explained briskly. I gathered my dress in both hands, and stormed off towards the departing couple. When I managed to find them, I heard a most disturbing sound- Elinor sobbing uncontrollably. "Who are you, and what have you done to Elinor?!" I demanded hotly, putting myself between my distraught best friend and the shocked man.
"F-Forgive me, I had no i-intention of disrupting your celebration, but I had to see Miss D-Dashwood," the stranger replied timidly.
"That does not address my inquiry of who you are, nor does it enlighten me as to why Elinor is in such a state!" I growled.
"Kiley, what is the matter- ah, good evening Mr. Ferrars," Christopher appeared and said, "Darling, this is my friend Edward Ferrars."
"I do not care who he is, in all honesty, I want to know what he has said or done to Elinor!" I hissed, my figurative hackles rising to a dangerous height.
"Kiley, please do not be angry with Edward, he merely caught me unaware, but let me be abrupt with you- please do not scare away my fiancé away," Elinor cut into the conversation, and took Edward by the hand.
"F-Fiancé?" I stammered incredulously, and looked at the couple before me with wide eyes.
"Why don't you two go inside and enjoy the celebration...and Elinor, I give you the warmest of congratulations on your upcoming nuptials," Christopher said to Elinor and Edward, and then turned his attention to me. "Are you well, Kiley?" he inquired softly.
"Yes," I mumbled, wrapped my arms around him, and then sighed, "Marriage," I mused aloud with an amused exhalation of air, "Already an adventure."
Christopher chuckled and kissed the crown of my head gently. His scent enveloped me, and that made my mind develop a slight layer of fog to dim all logical thought. "Come along, Mrs. Brandon, we must return to our reception," he urged, and guided us back into the ballroom of our home.
Hours went by, and still Christopher and I only had eyes for each other. We danced a handful more times, but mostly spent our time tucked away at our table conversing and exchanging brief kisses. Then the dancing ceased altogether and the guests departed. All who remained were my family and the Dashwoods with the exception of Marianne.
"Good night, little sister, and once again congratulations," Marci whispered as she embraced me in farewell, "I will take Mother and Father home with me."
Immediately upon being released from my sister, I was swept into a bone-shattering embrace from my softly sobbing mother. "I wish the two of you infinite happiness, my little Kiley Sue," my mother murmured tremulously into the crook of my neck, "I will not detain you further- enjoy life with your husband to the fullest."
It seemed like I had blinked and my family, including the Dashwoods, vanished. Suddenly, the front door burst open, and Margaret came sprinting towards me. She latched herself onto me and said softly, "I'll miss you...and archery lessons..."
"Who says that has to change? You are just as welcome to visit here as often as you wish, I promise," I assured her gently, absentmindedly rocking her in a soothing motion.
"All right," Margaret grumbled. She drew away and saw Christopher standing a respective distance back; she narrowed her eyes on him critically."You swear to take care of her?" she asked expectantly, hands on her hips- a silent tell for Christopher not to offend her by laughing.
Christopher clicked his heels together, saluted her, and then replied, "You have my word and honour that I will, General."
Margaret nodded her head curtly, bid us farewell, and then departed.
"Make sure not to cross her, Christopher, I would loathe to see you cut to pieces," I teased, attempting to use humour to loosen my tense nerves, but it had little effect.
"Would it be pitiful that I find young Margaret more terrifying than your father? And I would loathe to put you in such a state of fear for my well being," he replied. He reached out and took me by the hand; for quite some time he stood there and stared at our intertwined hands, eyes fixed on the not so conspicuous scar that ran over my knuckles from that fateful Yule party in London.