Page 57 of A Murder, a Marquess, and Miss Mifford

"I'd sooner throw myself into a slop bucket," Mary replied, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the very idea.

From downstairs, there came the sound of guests arriving, which threw everyone into a panic.

Emily stayed still, as all three of her sisters and her mama surrounded her. They tucked in a stray strand of hair, smoothed out a crease in her skirt, and repeatedly told her how beautiful she was.

For a moment, tears threatened, as she realised that she would be leaving her family to start another, but they subsided rapidly when Mrs Mifford wondered aloud if she might join the newlyweds for the second portion of their wedding tour.

"You will not," Mary said, firmly. Then to soften the blow, she added, "What if the baby arrives early, it will miss its grandmother."

"Grandmother makes me sound so old," Mrs Mifford huffed, "We shall have to think of a more forgiving moniker than that--glam-ma, perhaps. No, that won't do, let me think on it a while."

Emily offered Mary a grateful smile, there was nothing their mother found more distracting than thinking about herself. A knock came upon the bedroom door and Northcott called from beyond that it was time.

There was a final flurry of activity, as the sisters offered hugs and words of assurance to Emily, before departing for the morning room, where the small ceremony was to take place.

“I have removed all the potted plants from the room,” Mary called, as she shut the door, “In case you were tempted to hide behind one for the ceremony.”

“I don’t think Lord Chambers would accept being wed to a Ficus,” Emily answered, with a smile, “No matter how lush the foilage.”

Finally, Emily was alone. She took one last glance in the mirror, casting an eye over her simple, pale blue gown, and decided she was ready.

Taking a deep breath, she ventured out into the hallway, where Northcott was waiting to escort her downstairs.

"Lord Chambers is a lucky man," Northcott smiled as he saw her, before tucking her arm under his and leading her towards her destiny.

In the morning room, several rows of chairs had been set out, and were filled with familiar faces. Lady Albermay sat in the back row, Lord Delaney in front of her, and Lady Chambers--who had travelled up to see her son wed--sat at the front. On the opposite side, the seats were filled by the Mifford clan, who beamed at Emily as she passed. Nora was there too, summoned from Plumpton and sitting as far away from Mrs Mifford as was politely possible.

But there was only one person Emily wanted to see, and he was there, standing at the top of the room beside her father, wearing a smile as bright as her own.

"I am going to have to become accustomed to being outshone, it seems," Freddie commented, as Emily came to stand beside him, "You are simply ravishing; so beautiful it makes me want to break out into a sonnet."

"Well, try hold off until after we're wed," Emily whispered back, as her father searched for the correct page in his battered Bible, ever disorganised. "I'm not certain I can wait another second to marry you."

"I don't blame you," Freddie grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief, "Iamconsidered a prime specimen of masculinity, according toLa Belle Assemblée."

"Did they also mention how insufferable you are?" Emily whispered back, as she tried to hide her smile.

"You wound me," Freddie clutched a hand to his chest, in mock pain, "Though, while I do wish you would hold me in as high regard as I hold myself, there is probablysomebenefit to marrying a woman who will dull the worst of my vanity.

"Not just for you, but for the world at large," Emily quipped, as, at last, Mr Mifford found the correct page.

"Dearly beloved," he began, addressing the room in his low melodious voice, "We are gathered here to join two souls as one..."

At his words, Freddie took Emily's hand in his, and she felt her heart would burst with happiness; for she knew that she had never wanted anything more than to be joined to him forever.