Chapter Thirty-two
Maura straightenedthe ribbon in Eliza’s hair. She stepped back and gave her a quick inspection. “Beautiful. Though the baby is an odd accessory for a wedding day.”
“You have an angel in this one, Maura.” Eliza cherished every ounce of happiness she saw in her friend; it had been in such short supply during their time together in the Widows’ Tower. She carefully set the tiny, sleeping bundle back in Maura’s arms.
“An angel and a miracle.” Maura brushed her cheek along her infant daughter’s. The miracle had arrived only a week earlier. The strain on Maura’s factory-damaged lungs had been significant, but she’d emerged whole and healthy and more joyous than Eliza had ever known her to be. The baby had been named Grace, a fitting choice.
“Could you have believed during those difficult, lean years of suffering in New York that this was the life that awaited us just down the road?”
“Never.” She slowly rocked her daughter in her arms. “I can’t imagine being more grateful to have been wrong.”
“I like your Ryan,” Eliza said.
“And I like your Patrick, the Patrick he has grown to be since knowing you. He’s a good man getting closer to deserving you.”
Eliza smoothed the front of her dress. She only ever wore it on Sundays, and it was decidedly the nicest thing she owned. “I wish I had something new and truly beautiful.”
Maura tucked her baby girl into the crook of one arm, freeing the other, which she wrapped around Eliza’s shoulders. “You are beautiful, and I promise you Patrick will think so as well. He is well aware how fortunate he is to be marrying you today. You’d be a vision to him even if you showed up in beggar’s threads.”
A memory of Ivy declaring him a beggar man flashed through Eliza’s mind, and her heart warmed. How far he’d come, and how very much better she knew him now.
“Shall I go marry my beggar man, then?”
“I think you had best.”
Maura walked with her from the Archers’ home, down the road to the church. Wagons and buggies surrounded the building. They were not having a large wedding—only Patrick’s family, the Archers, and the preacher, and his wife—but the church wouldn’t be anywhere near empty.
Though far from conventional, Maura would be walking with Eliza to the front of the church. Her father was in England, and she hadn’t anyone else in her life as much like family to her as the woman who’d been like a sister to her these past years.
Patrick stood at the front of the chapel, Ian beside him, and the preacher waiting with his Bible in hand. Mrs. O’Connor sat on the frontmost pew with Lydia on her lap. Patrick’s family had fully adopted Eliza and her daughter, treating Lydia no differently from their own grandchildren. They were part of a family now.
Any nervousness she’d felt melted away at the sight of Patrick smiling at her, his eyes never leaving her face. She kept her gaze on him as she and Maura closed the distance. Ryan slipped Grace from her mum’s arms as they passed, freeing Maura to give Eliza a loving, sisterly hug before stepping aside.
Patrick held his hand out to her. Eliza set hers in his, and together they stood in front of the preacher.
“Dearly beloved . . .”
Eliza held fast to Patrick’s hand as the ceremony proceeded. Such strength existed in this man, but such tenderness as well. Emotion broke a little in his voice as he spoke his vows, and her heart was evermore his. Without any hesitancy or uncertainty, she spoke hers.
The preacher declared them married. Their gathered family and friends cheered as Patrick pulled her into a fierce and earnest embrace.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you,” she answered.
He kissed her as tradition dictated, but there was nothing solemn about it. There was warmth and love and affection. Lydia tugged at her dress and his trousers, interrupting the moment in a most welcome and perfect way. Patrick scooped her up, and the three of them, now a truly official family, turned to receive the well wishes of their guests.
After a great many hugs and handshakes, they managed to maneuver their way out of the church.
“Joseph has lent us his buggy,” Patrick said. “We won’t have to walk all the way to Finbarr’s house.”
He handed her up, then set Lydia in her arms. After another quick kiss, he hitched the buggy up, climbed inside, and set the horse to a gentle trot. Eliza laid her head on his shoulder.
