Chapter 31- Bright Spring Day
This chapter contains some adult material.
A few days later, on a bright, warm Monday, her dress is finished. Excited, she sends for Rebecca and Nathaniel, handing them each a note they read together.
"Send for the priest- we've got a wedding to have- let us ride today!"
Nathaniel laughs and grabs her around the waist, lifting her and spinning her around, "Lizzie, my dear, it sounds like a fine day for a wedding! Is Thomas ready?"
He walks in from the yard, "Am I ready for what? I've been working on the steam engines all morning."
"Your lovely bride-to-be says we're riding for Carlisle today."
Thomas drops the towel on which he was drying his hands and runs to Lizzie, grinning. He scoops her up and swings her in a circle as she giggles, lowering her into a kiss.
"I take it that's a yes. We'd better send for Brother Mort, Rebecca."
"I know where he is. We'll get him on the way."
They ride for Carlisle starting mid-day. They ride all day, the open carriage full of laughter and jokes, a picnic supper eaten on the road. Once they arrive in Carlisle very late at night, Mr Hayes greets them and leads them to a hotel he knows is both very nice and has open rooms. Early the next morning, Thomas goes with Nathaniel to fit his suit and returns to the hotel with it in a large box. Then he takes Lizzie out for her ring. He has her close her eyes while the jeweller fits it. She giggles, giddy, biting her lip in anticipation of the surprise. It fits beautifully and they leave the shop with a box.
That afternoon at 3pm, Nathaniel and Thomas dress and leave their hotel early to meet Brother Morton at the church. Rebecca dresses Lizzie, pinning up her hair with marcasite and pearls, a few curls left to frame her face, the comb of her veil slipped into her braided crown. The dress fits her perfectly, the velvet front panel extending from the floor to the centre pane of the bodice, splitting to frame the wide neckline. that stretches just over the outermost edge of her shoulders. She has beaded the front with stars, metal beads and marcasite, silver thread creating delicate bursts from each little pinpoint of light. The delicate white lace made by her aunt drapes off her arms, around her waist, and at her hem. Blue silk trails behind her. Rebecca lays the necklace against her chest and clasps it in the back while Lizzie slips in the earrings and fastens the bracelet. She tugs on short lace fingerless gloves. Rebecca, in her long black dress, flowers in her hair, hands her the bouquet and her blue notebook. Lizzie slips on her silk shoes, drapes her mother's shawl on her shoulders, and picks up the train of her dress. She stands in front of the long mirror and stares at herself.
Rebecca stands beside her, her smile as broad as it can be, "My darling Lizzie...you are a beautiful woman. I'm so incredibly proud to have watched you grow up."
"I wish Father was here."
"He's watching you from the great afar, girl, you can bet your last ha'penny. Now. Your soon to be husband's waiting at the church. Shall we join him?"
Lizzie nods, takes a deep breath, and steps out the door. It isn't a long walk, but it she is nervous and her grand gown attracts attention as Rebecca keeps her moving down the street.
Nathaniel greets them at the church door, "My god, Liz. You're stunning." He kisses her cheek. "Come on. Thomas' waiting behind the door on the left. You're going to come in on the right. Just like we talked about. Meet at the centre aisle after Rebecca and I call for you. We'll take our places, give you two time to stare at each other. Then come on down to the Brother and we'll get you married." She nods, nervous, and he walks her to her door while Rebecca goes to talk to Thomas. Nathaniel rests his hands on her shoulders, "I'm incredibly proud of you, Liz. For giving him a chance from the start. For believing his story when others weren't so gracious. And for standing by him through everything. You're the strongest woman I know. I'm so blessed to be your brother." He kisses her forehead and steps through the door.
What she doesn't know is that ten minutes before, he'd told Thomas how proud he was to call him brother, for his patience with Lizzie, for his acceptance of her as a whole and beautiful person, even without her voice, and for his steadfast care since his return to the village. And lastly, he had told Thomas how proud he was to stand by a man who had seen all he had seen, done all he had done, and was still willing to be married one last time because Lizzie had her heart set on it, despite his own fears.
She hears Rebecca call, "All hail, sun, moon, skies above, earth below, the wind at our backs and the waters around our world of water. Hail the fire that births us and consumes us, the fire that drives, the fire that ends."
Nathaniel's voice comes next, "Brother Morton, we herald Lizzie York and Thomas Sharpe, brother, sister, family, friends., in their wish to be wed." Lizzie opens the door. Across from her, Thomas does the same. She smiles and steps into the sanctuary.
Thomas' jaw drops when he sees his soon-to-be-wife. He steps forward to meet her, the velvet of his jacket crisp against blue silk vest that perfectly matches her gown. She reaches the aisle a moment ahead of him and he stops at the edge of the pews to stare. She'd kept her beadwork and embroidery hidden from him. He has seen spectacular gowns, but nothing like what she has made. That she has made it has him in nearly as much awe as how immensely he loves her and how much a queen she looks standing before him, marcasite and silver thread glittering from head to toe. He takes a deep breath and walks the last few steps.
He takes her in his arms, careful not to tug on her veil, "Have I found a goddess incarnate? My love, you are divine."
She blushes and laughs silently, kissing his cheek, "As are you."
He clears his throat, "Oh. Um. Thank you." She brushes his cheek with the back of her hand. She loves the little smile creases at the corners of his mouth and eyes, the sure signs that life with her has brought him joy enough to reverse the years without it that had started to crease his face when they met.
"We should probably start walking."
She nods, kisses the corner of his lips, and turns to take his arm. They start down the aisle, their footsteps the only sound in the empty church. But it is not a lonely empty. There is a warmth to the setting and an intimacy to being here in this holy place with so few other people.
They reach the front and Brother Morton greets them, "My friends, welcome. This is a joyous day indeed. We begin by asking your witnesses if there is any legal reason why you two should not be wed, and-" he pauses half a second, looking between Nathaniel and Rebecca as they shake their heads, "-hearing absolutely nothing, I ask the same of you. If there is any reason you should not be wed under the laws of this nation, confess it now."
Lizzie shakes her head, smiling, and Thomas answers, "No, Brother. We know of no reason."
"Good! Then we shall keep this simple. Rebecca would like to ask a blessing upon you both."
She steps forward and takes their hands, "My dear friends. It lifts my heart to see you two taking this step. It brings great joy, knowing that you have found one another. It brings great pride to know how far you have both come and what you have both endured growing your love for one another. And it brings great hope to see what you have in your future, knowing what you have built together already. May you never want for anything necessary. May you always have people who love you to walk this path alongside you. May your love grow stronger with every passing day, and may this marriage last into the next world. You are both so blessed. May all that is bright in this world continue to illuminate the truth and beauty of your lives." She drops their hands and opens her arms, "Come, darlings." She hugs them both, "I am so proud of you both." She steps back to her spot beside Brother Morton.
"Thank you, Rebecca. Now, according to the laws of this land, I must ask if you are here of your own free will, without coercion. Lizzie?"
She whispers, "Yes."
"Thomas?"
"Yes, sir."
"Lovely. Do you have the rings?" Nathaniel hands Thomas the box and he takes them from it, passing the box back to Nathaniel and handing the rings to the monk, "Beautiful. You both have likely heard the poetics that the ring is a circle, made of something precious, a path that never ends. And likely, you've heard marriage compared to that. But that is not the only thing a ring means. In the old days, women only wore them, a sign that she was claimed, owned, bought and paid for in gold. But the Great War changed that. Men wore rings into the trenches as a reminder that though they were in hell, someone waited at home. There was still love in this world, even in bleak times. And that is the message I want to send to you both. Thomas, you have seen dark days. Difficult days none of us can truly fathom. And yet you have still blossomed under the care of love. May this ring always remind you that there is always hope, no matter what haunts, no matter how hard your past is to bear. Lizzie has been beside you and beside you she will faithfully stay. And Lizzie, you have endured hardships most girls at your tender age did not think could happen to them. As a result, you have seen the base character of so many men. Yet here you are, binding yourself to one of that sex. Your heart may have been guarded, but it was still open to the goodness in others. And your kindness and keen eye for who to trust has brought you to marrying your best friend. And so that is what I want to remind you- that hearts that seek love will find it." Rebecca brings a tiny vial of water from her pocket, "Water from Kildare. The holy well of Saint Bridget, but older yet, of Bride, the goddess of hearth and home and marriage itself. It may seem odd to have a monk speak of this, but there is power in old sacred places. Please outstretch your hands, palms up." They do, and he places Lizzie's ring in Thomas' hand, Thomas' in Lizzie's.
Rebecca sprinkles a few drops of Kildare water over each ring, "May she hold your love and your home close to her heart." She pockets the little bottle and takes Lizzie's bouquet.
Brother Morton continues, "Now, we will exchange rings. But not with the same words in the Book of Common Prayer. Thomas, please repeat after me. I, Thomas Sharpe-"
"I, Thomas Sharpe-"
"joyfully pledge my heart, loyalty, and hand-"
"joyfully pledge my heart, loyalty, and hand-"
"-to you, Lizzie, so help me god."
"-to you, Lizzie, so help me god." Brother Morton nods and Thomas slips the ring on her finger. Lapis lazuli, a smooth stone in the centre, framed by two clusters of marcasite.
He turns to Lizzie, "And you, after me. Take your time."
He repeats the same pledge and Lizzie repeats, slowly, carefully, in a voice hardly over a whisper. She slips the gold band, inset with the same lapis lazuli, on Thomas' hand.
"Are you both ready to say your vows?"
Thomas nods and takes both of Lizzie's hands, "May I be the first?"
She nods, tears already in her eyes.
"My beloved Miss Elizabeth York. I have never found someone so forgiving and kind. I should have horrified you from the start, but you looked past everything I had been and only to what I could become. So this is my vow to you. I will always remember what a great gift you have given me and seek to return such kindness and love from the moment we wake each day to when we fall asleep tangled in one another late at night. I can never repay something so vast, but I will ever dream with you and I will do whatever I can to make those dreams come true. I will stay by you, through sickness and health, caring for you as best I know how and seeking help when I cannot do it alone. And most of all, my lady, I pledge you this heart, body, mind, and soul, that you have brought back from the dead and damnation. Every day is owed to you, and so I joyfully gift you everything I am."
There are tears streaming down Lizzie's cheeks; Rebecca hands her a handkerchief and she wipes them, collecting herself as she opens the book and turns it so he can read as she speaks, her broken voice as clear as she can make it in her strong whisper, "Dearest Thomas. I cannot say much. But I love you. And with you, I am whole.. Even this." She pats her throat, "I vow to be yours in good times and in bad. In darkness and light. And no matter what ghosts haunt your memories. I will ease your heart, hold your hand when you are lost in memory, carry your burdens when they are too much." She coughs and he raises a hand to her cheek, "I vow to be your wife, your witch, your lover, fire and ice, whatever this love asks. For you, I speak." He glances at the page. She has said everything written.
"You've never said so much to me before."
"I've been practising. Late. Pushing." She clears her throat, holding back the next cough.
"Rest, love."
She presses her cheek into his palm, eyes closed.
Brother Morton gives them a moment before continuing, "These vows exchanged, these rings blessed, you have sealed your covenant to one another. By the powers granted to me by the church and crown, I declare you Mrs and Mr York. Please, share your first kiss as husband and wife."
Thomas brings her face to his and whispers, "My god, I love you, Lizzie York," before his lips meet hers.
She smiles, "We did it." and giggles, her heart light.
"We did."
His arm around her waist, her hand on his shoulder, she turns to gesture for Nathaniel, Rebecca, and even Brother Morton, to come into their embrace. They hug the monk, the witch, and their brother.
Thomas says, "Thank you. You three...we wouldn't be where we are without you each."
Rebecca nods, "Aye, perhaps. I'm just so deeply honoured you asked us all here for such an incredible moment. Congratulations, loves. You're a mister and missus now."
Thomas can't help himself- he laughs, joy overflowing. Nathaniel links arms with him, Rebecca with Lizzie, dragging Brother Morton along with her, and they walk down the aisle laughing, crying, smiling. And then they are on the bright street, the spring day a celebration itself. They eat at the hotel in the grand dining room that night and return to their rooms full and happy.
Thomas and Lizzie, though, do not sleep quickly. He slowly strips her of her gown, her veil, her undergarments, as she does the same, removing his suit piece by piece, mouths and fingers finding exposed skin a little at a time, teasing moans and sighs from parted, busy lips. When he lays her down, tongue trailing up the inside of her leg, she still wears her jewellery, a goddess adorned by her acolyte, worshipped with mouth and fingers until she begs for him to come inside her and stay. He bends over her, kissing mouth, breasts, the soft skin under her chin, the sweet sensitive spot just below her ear, until he can no longer focus, bringing himself to climax as she gasps for him, clenching her legs around him, his hands holding hers above her head. She presses against him, holding onto the sensation and the little overwhelming pulse between her legs. He rolls her onto him and she settles against his chest, still enjoying the feeling of him resting within her. She falls asleep with her jewels still on. He carefully unclasps the necklace and removes her earrings and bracelet, placing them beneath her pillow so they can find them in the morning. But it is far too nice to have her this way their first night as Mr and Mrs York and moving to put them on the dressing table seems an entirely unnecessary interruption.