Page 38 of Love, Lies, and the Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)
O n a fine day in June, in St Albans, the small iron church bell in the little twelfth-century Norman church rang, pealing out a happy sound. The doors opened and out walked Mr. Theodore Hardwicke and his new wife, formerly Miss Anastasia Banks.
Flower petals streamed through the air as the laughing couple walked out to a crowd of onlookers, mostly friends of the family and neighbors, who clapped and threw petals, cheering.
They were followed out by the other newly engaged couple, the soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Percy Jemisin, the latter of whom had begun working at the cobbler’s business run by Mr. Banks Sr., Miss Betsey Banks’s father.
Young Percy was keen to learn a proper trade, as his wastrel brother had gambled away not only their family inheritance, but also their estate.
Not long after the engagement announcement of Mr. Hardwicke to her older sister, Percy had come to Miss Betsey Banks, hat in hand, with nothing to offer her but himself and his name, which currently was lower than mud, in society’s eyes.
Some might turn away such a suitor, but Miss Betsey had not.
One matron said she’d heard that Miss Betsey had even jumped into the young man’s arms. Can you imagine?
His brother, Mr. Jeremiah Jemisin, of His Majesty’s regiment, had run off with the charming Mrs. Sherwood, only to succumb to a venereal disease overseas and die in the camp hospital.
A woman who had shunned her family’s good name and followed him and the army with women of ill repute, Mrs. Eliza Sherwood suddenly found herself alone in a military camp with no one to rely on.
For as they never married, she had not even the means or right to call herself Mr. Jemisin’s widow.
Shunned by all good society, she did eventually return to England, but that is another story.
Following the wedding ceremony, the newly married Hardwickes’ wedding breakfast was held at the finest pub in the city, Ye Olde Fighting Cocks, which claimed to have been around before the time of William the Conqueror.
It boasted a fine meal for the family and friends, including a popular matchmaker who came from London, with many toasts, speeches, and cheers.
Sitting at the center of a table beside Theodore, Anastasia took her new husband’s hand and sniffed.
“What is it, my love?” Theodore asked.
She wiped away a tear. “I always cry at weddings. I never thought I’d be crying at my own. I’m just so happy. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Making me the happiest woman in the world. I never thought I could know love. Not really.” Not after my horrible past.
But she had been wrong, and in that moment, had never been happier to be proven incorrect.
Sensing her thoughts, Theodore leaned in and whispered, “I shall look forward to reminding you that you are loved, body and soul, every day for the rest of your life.” He winked at her. “ Particularly for your body.”
She giggled and leaned in as he tenderly kissed her cheek.
The End