The Duke and the Lass by Jessie Clever
Chapter 19
It was snowing.
While such a thing was not uncommon in Cumbria, she was rather surprised to see the white flakes falling in London as Andrew pulled her out into the gardens of Ravenwood House. She was glad he had given her time to retrieve her cloak. He had been in such a hurry to see her out the door since he’d arrived home minutes before.
She couldn’t be sure what he was about but thought the glee so evident on his face suggested he’d been to see Grimsby in Shoreditch again, but when she’d questioned him about it, he’d brushed it off.
He insisted he had something to show her in the gardens.
It was December, and she hadn’t taken to venturing into the gardens as they had been put to bed for the winter, but she couldn’t help but get caught up in Andrew’s playfulness.
She had been right to retrieve her cloak however.
She flexed her cold fingers in Andrew’s grasp, wishing she had grabbed gloves as well, but he’d been too insistent on getting her outside she hadn’t wanted to take the time.
They wove their way through the gardens, dipping in and out of walled sections, hedgerows, and beds black with turned earth.
Finally they spilled out into an area that was more open, and she paused as Andrew stopped suddenly beside her.
They were in a folly.
The perimeter was dotted with stone columns, their tops empty and reaching for the sky. A stone walkway circled them that led onto a stone dais set in the center of the folly. Della’s eyes traveled the pathway of the stones, her gaze reaching up until—
The air caught in her throat, and she was unable to stop the gasp that came to her lips.
It was Hera.
The statue stood on the dais in the center of the folly, the snow falling softly around her. She was rendered in a delicate stone, light in color with veins of a darker material passing through it. She was carved with staff and crown, and she was positioned with one foot in front of the other as if she were stepping into battle. The affect was stunning, and the statue came to life with sudden movement.
“It’s beautiful,” Della whispered, not realizing she meant to say anything at all. She was just so captured by the beauty of the thing before her.
“My father had it commissioned as a wedding present for our mother,” Andrew said from beside her, and Della recalled what Johanna had said so long ago.
Della’s fingers flexed in Andrew’s palm. “I couldn’t think of something more fitting.”
“I can,” Andrew said, and she turned, surprised.
She looked down as he pulled something from his pocket, and her heart gave a thud in her chest.
It was a small jeweler’s box.
He didn’t open it. Instead, he picked up her left hand and slipped the signet ring from her third finger, the ring he had placed there in the middle of the night in Brydekirk. She felt a pang for its loss, her fingers curling as if to keep it there, but then he spoke.
“A signet ring is not worthy of the bride of Ravenwood,” he said as he slipped the signet ring back on his own finger.
Only then did he open the jeweler’s box.
The band was of a soft gold, warm in the dim light, and in the center were set three identical sapphires.
“Oh Andrew,” she breathed.
He took the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger, but he didn’t let go of her hand.
“I give you this ring, Catriona Cordelia Darby.” He pointed to the first sapphire. “A woman with a name.” The next sapphire. “A country.” And the next. “And roots.”
She had no words that could convey what she felt inside of her, except for the most important words of all.
“I love you, Andrew Darby.”
And when she kissed him, she couldn’t help but know she was exactly where she was meant to be.