Page 68 of Dare it all for Love

Florence gave a tragic sigh but nodded. “Two days,” she agreed.

Henry smiled, gave her a chaste kiss, and promised himself a very large brandy when he got home. If he must be a blasted saint, there ought to be some reward on earth, because heaven seemed a jolly long way off.

29th August 1839, Saxenhurst Hall, Sussex.

Florence looked about the assembled company and felt quite thoroughly, blissfully happy. It had been the perfect day. Her family and some of their closest friends had gathered for the wedding, and the weather had been quite glorious. They had laid the wedding breakfast out beneath the shade of a large rose arbour and the heady scent was quite as intoxicating as the endless bottles of champagne with which Henry had supplied everyone. The company were relaxed and jovial and even her father looked pleased. They had been married in the church next to the Hall, though Florence was very relieved that Henry had overseen the sealing up of the tunnel that led to the house. Secret tunnels were all well and good in mystery stories; in real life they were a lot less welcome.

They realised now that the tunnel had been in his great-great-grandfather’s room, but Henry’s mother had preferred the view over the front of the house and had claimed it for herself when she’d married his father. Henry said it was likely the last time his mother had got her way about anything, but it explained why it was in the lady of the house’s bedroom. It also explained why Henry had never found it, apart from the fact the secret opening was so well hidden in the panelling it was invisible unless you knew it was there. He’d not been so thorough in searching his mother’s room as he’d not considered the fact his great-great-grandmother might be involved.

“Of course, if I’d thought for a moment she was as resourceful and determined as Florence, it would have been the first place I’d looked,” he’d quipped, which Florence thought was quite the nicest thing he could have said to her.

They were going to spend their wedding night at Saxenhurst and decide later where they would like to go for their honeymoon. Henry had told her about so many fascinating places it would be difficult for her to choose, but there was no rush. Just being here, with him, was adventure enough for the moment though she’d prefer it if no one tried to kill or abduct either of them. Florence stared up at the handsome building that was to become her home. She was looking forward to changing just about everything at Saxenhurst.

“Making plans?” Henry teased her, sliding an arm about her waist.

Florence turned to study his face. “I am. Do you mind?”

“Not in the least. I’ve no fond memories of this building, I’m afraid. I should welcome a fresh start, with you.”

She kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry it wasn’t a happy place, but it will be, Henry. I promise. And it’s such a lovely building.”

“Is it?” Henry asked, frowning. “I suppose it is. On the outside, anyway. I haven’t really looked at it objectively before. It’s just always been here.”

Florence huffed at him. “Then look harder. Saxenhurst has beautiful bones. The outside is perfection and the inside… the inside is like a lovely girl feeling uncomfortable because she’s wearing a stupendously ugly dress. It will be unrecognisable by the time I’m done with it. I promise. I’ll make it a home for us.”

He laughed at her description. “I believe you.”

She smiled and reached up to touch his cheek. “I’m so glad you married me, Henry, and you don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind what?”

“That I rather pestered you into it.”

He shook his head, his hazel eyes warm and full of adoration. “If that is what pestering looks like, I can only hope you keep doing it. I’m very happy, Florence. Happier than I ever dreamed possible, and that’s all because of you.”

Florence sighed and looked about at her friends and family. “It’s been a lovely day, hasn’t it? Utterly perfect, only….”

“Only?” Henry repeated, arching an eyebrow at her.

Florence leaned in and whispered in his ear. “When are they going home?”

“Ah.” He grinned at her and winked before turning towards the Earl of St Clair.

“Er… Jasper,” he said, before clearing his throat. “That thing we discussed….”

“Oh, absolutely!” Jasper sprang to his feet and clapped his hands together. “Ladies and gentlemen if I might have your attention, please. After this wonderful day, I think it only right that we raise one last toast to the bride and groom before we go on our way, and I do hope that you will all return to Holbrook with us where we have a celebration of our own devising so that we may leave the newlyweds in peace. Oh, and we have fireworks!”

There was a cheer and much laughter as everyone raised their glasses once again.

“Henry and Florence!” everyone said, and glasses chinked and there was yet another round of congratulations, but finally, the earl ushered everyone out to their carriages.

Florence bade her parents goodbye, managing not to sob at the bear hug her father gave her, nor blush too fiercely at her mother’s whispered last-minute advice.

Finally only the earl remained as he handed his wife up into their carriage.

“Thank you, Jasper. You’re a good friend,” Henry said, shaking the earl’s hand.

Jasper laughed and shook his head. “What are friends for, if not for clearing off unwanted guests on your wedding night? Congratulations, you lucky fellow. I’m looking forward to having you as a neighbour again. Don’t let him go off gallivanting for too long, please, Florence. And you are always welcome at Holbrook.”