Daisy and the Duke by Elizabeth Cole
Epilogue
Dear Rosalind and Poppy,
My darlings, you’ll be getting a formal invitation very soon, but I cannot wait to share my news. I shall be married in the new year, and I beg you—out of love and our childhood bonds—to attend, despite the likely January weather. As an incentive, I will tell you that Camellia has already agreed, Heather lives only in the next county, and even Mrs. Bloomfield is coming, as the school will be closed for several weeks while the roof is being repaired. Remember that mighty oak in the front lawn? She wrote recently and told me it finally fell during a windstorm just before Christmas. Thank goodness all the girls had left to be with their families by then!
You will stay at Lyondale, the home of the Duke of Lyon, who is my fiancé…
Daisy loved writing that part, and she finished the letter swiftly to get it to the post.
As planned, the wedding took place shortly after the beginning of the new year. The very proper Lady Margaret refused to be married in a steeple-less church, so Lord Lyon directed a storm of both money and effort to see the building repaired as quickly as possible.
Naturally, the new vicar conducted the ceremony. Mr. Langdon was a grey-haired, severe-looking but gentle man who’d served as chaplain in Tristan’s army company, and he’d accepted the duke’s invitation to serve as the Lyonton vicar. He was already proving to be a good choice.
The ceremony was attended by, well, everyone who could manage to cram into the space. The bride wore a lovely dress in a pale blue, carrying a bouquet of white flowers that had been grown under glass, for it was now the dead of winter. She also wore a necklace of diamonds—real diamonds—from the mine Tristan invested in, the mine now producing an astonishing number of quality stones every week, the result of workers who were well-compensated for their effort. The proceeds were astronomical, and a few new accountants had been hired at Tristan’s London bank to handle the flood of incoming business. Tristan had given her the necklace that morning, and Daisy had merely stared at it for a while, watching the stones sparkle and flash in the sunlight. The center stone was larger than the rest, and tinted an unusual pale yellow, setting off the whole necklace. Tristan told her that the jeweler who made it had already named it: the Duchess diamond.
“It will be in our family for generations, if I have my way,” Tristan said.
At the wedding, Daisy was flanked by her maids of honor, her four school friends from Wildwood, who also carried flowers and wore smiles as big as the sun. Miss Bella Merriot watched from the family pew, sitting next to Mrs. Bloomfield.
Daisy and Tristan exchanged their vows, and then he kissed her as if he’d never got the chance before. Beneath the sensations of love and joy, Daisy reflected that there was something to be said for kissing where others could see—now she was irrevocably tied to Tristan. Her wildest dream had come true.
After the ceremony, everyone in the village was invited to celebrate at Lyondale, which had thrown open its doors once more to provide food and music and amusement to anyone who entered.
Daisy took a few moments to escape the well wishes of her neighbors to gather in a small room with her school friends.
There they were, loyal and steadfast and delighted at Daisy’s good fortune. Dark-haired Rose and blonde-locked Poppy sat together on a long couch, while the more bookish Camellia stood in front of the bookcase, scanning the many titles, and Heather peered out the windows at the snowy fields beyond.
Heather turned at Daisy’s entrance, and rushed up to her. “My word, Daisy, I mean your grace, you’re like a fairy-tale princess in that gown, and with that necklace. You surely don’t need that old pasteboard crown now!”
“I wish I could see your jewels, Daisy,” Rose added wistfully. “I remember Mama wearing her diamond ring, and it sparkled so in the sunlight.”
“Well, multiply that memory a thousand times, and you’ll get a sense of Daisy’s necklace,” Poppy told her, giggling. “But of course it’s not nearly so sparkly as Daisy’s smile. I do believe she is in love with her duke!”
“Very much so,” Daisy admitted, without a trace of embarrassment.
Camellia shut the book she was holding. “I think that it’s not quite fashionable to be in love with one’s husband, at least among society.”
Poppy rolled her eyes. “What nonsense. That’s just because so few members of society marry for love.”
“Well, I’m going to marry for love,” Heather declared.
“I’m not going to marry at all,” Poppy countered. “That is, until Rose gets married.”
The girl on the couch sighed, saying, “That will never happen. Who marries a blind girl?”
“A man with good sense,” Camellia said quickly. “For she wouldn’t ever think him ugly!”
The girls all laughed, but as the chatter continued onto other topics, Daisy felt a little sad. She wanted all her friends to be as blissfully content as she was. She hoped that they would find their matches soon, because they were all deserving of love. In fact, everyone was deserving of love, even her horrid stepmother, who was evidently in love with the ex-vicar Hornthwaite. She hoped that even they were happy together…somewhere very far away.
There was another couple that looked to be quite content. Bella stood next to Jack Kemble the whole day, doting on his every word as the villagers came up to him and congratulated him on his efforts to clear Daisy’s name. Only when the old baroness was mentioned did Bella look away, and Jack hurriedly changed the subject to something more pleasant. He still sat in a chair most of the day, but he looked far better than he had when he arrived at Lyondale, and Dr. Stelton declared he would be fit and healthy by April…which was not coincidentally when he and Bella planned to get married and move to London, where Jack was going to set up a law practice.
Lord Lyon rarely left his wife’s side the whole day, though he did sneak her away from the crowd of well-wishers for a moment.
He led her upstairs and out to the balcony.
“It’s too cold to stay out here, Tristan,” Daisy said.
He put his arms around her. “You can’t possibly think I’d let you get chilly, your grace.”
She laughed. “I won’t get used to that.”
“That’s what I thought, when they started calling me your grace.” He bent to kiss her lightly, then said, “It’s amazing though, what one can get used to.”
“I will get used to you kissing me,” Daisy whispered. “Though you really ought to learn to do so when we’re alone.”
“We are alone,” he said. “As you say, no one’s outside in the cold. So can I kiss you again?”
Daisy didn’t take much convincing. Tristan kissed her again. A distant round of shouts and teasing applause suggested that they weren’t alone after all, but Daisy kissed him back all the same. The lesson about waiting until they were alone could be discussed later.
Much later.
* * * *
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