The small chapel was filled with the soft glow of candlelight and the sweet scent of freshly cut flowers. Caroline stood at the entrance, her arm linked with her father's, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Ahead of her, Sebastian waited at the altar. Once more, Caroline was struck by how utterly handsome he was with his broad shoulders and twinkling green eyes.
As the first notes of the music sounded, Caroline took a deep breath and stepped forward. She felt as if she were floating, her feet barely touching the ground as she made her way down the aisle. The faces of the guests blurred together, all except for one—Beatrice, sitting stiffly in the front pew, her expression unreadable. Caroline's heart clenched at the sight of her sister. She was used to Beatrice being warm and kind—she hardly knew her sister when she was so cold and distant. She longed to go to her, to beg for her forgiveness and understanding, to explain once again that she made the decision to marry Sebastian for Beatrice’s sake too… but she knew it would be futile. Beatrice had shown no signs of softening over the last few weeks. Caroline had hoped that as her wedding neared, Beatrice’s rage would calm but instead it had only grown.
Then she was there, standing beside Sebastian, their hands clasped together as they faced the priest. The old man smiled at them benevolently, his voice ringing out clear and strong in the hushed chapel.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of God and these witnesses, to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Marriage is a sacred bond, not to be entered into lightly, but reverently, passionately, lovingly and solemnly. Into this these two persons present now come to be joined.”
He turned to Sebastian formally. “My Lord, Sebastian Fairchild, Viscount Casterbridge, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love, comfort, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon her your heart's deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keeping yourself only unto her as long as you both shall live?”
Sebastian's voice was deep and clear, and Caroline’s cheeks flushed when the sound reverberated through the chapel. “I do.”
The priest nodded before he turned to Caroline. “And do you, Lady Caroline Wentworth, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love, comfort, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon him your heart's deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keeping yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?”
Caroline swallowed hard, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. “I do.”
“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Their lips hardly brushed against each other—something Caroline was relieved about. This, after all, was not a normal wedding.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the priest announced formally, “I present to you Lord and Lady Casterbridge!”
The guests erupted into applause, but Caroline barely heard it over the pounding of her own heart. She was married. She was a wife, a viscountess.
As they made their way back down the aisle, Caroline caught Beatrice's eye. Her sister's face was still stony, but Caroline thought she detected a glimmer of something in her gaze—regret, she hoped, or even longing. Perhaps, a flicker of hope within her encouraged, they would be able to resolve things. But she’d barely had time to truly make sense of the softness in Beatrice’s eyes when it hardened again and she stared at her stiffly.
Then Sebastian was helping her into the carriage, his hand warm and strong in hers, and the moment was lost. The horses began to move, following the small gathering to the Wentworth home for a subdued celebration. The dining room had been decorated with vases of fresh flowers, their delicate petals perfuming the air. The table was laden with all of Caroline's favorite dishes, but despite the enticing aromas, she found her appetite entirely diminished by the knots in her stomach.
She wasn’t ready, she thought as she glanced at her now-husband. She wasn’t ready to be married to him, to be bedded by him….
She was keenly aware of Sebastian's presence beside her, his leg brushing against hers under the table, his hand occasionally grazing her own as he reached for his glass. Each touch sent a shiver down her spine, a strange mix of excitement and trepidation. She found herself studying him surreptitiously from beneath her lashes, admiring the strong line of his jaw, the way his chestnut hair fell across his forehead.
Of course, as Caroline had feared, the afternoon seemed to draw to a close far too quickly—and if she had hoped that her anxiety about married life would calm some, she was proven woefully wrong. Instead, she grew more nervous as the time passed, and her entire body trembled with anxiety when the time finally came to say goodbye to her family.
To her surprise, it was her mother rather than her husband or father who made an attempt to bid the newlyweds farewell first. Caroline could see her mother’s glances toward Beatrice all through the day, and she knew that as much as her mother cared for her, she now wanted nothing more than to look after her eldest daughter.
“Well. I suppose it is time. Goodbye, Caroline,” she said, her voice still holding an edge of stiffness—resentment even. “May you be a good wife to him.”
Caroline nodded, not trusting herself to speak around the lump in her throat. Her father was next, his usually stern face softened with something akin to affection as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Do us proud as a wife,” he said gruffly. “No matter how this union started, it must now bring pride to your family.”
Even Beatrice came forward, though her hug was stiff and perfunctory. “Goodbye, Caroline,” she said, her tone cold and distant. “I wish you well.”
Caroline felt tears prick at the backs of her eyes as she climbed into the carriage beside Sebastian. She kept her gaze fixed out the window as they pulled away, watching the figures of her family grow smaller and smaller until they disappeared from view.
The carriage ride was strained at first, an awkward silence settling between the newlyweds. Caroline sat stiffly, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery. Sebastian cleared his throat several times, as if to speak, but no words came.
They were quite a while away when at last Sebastian spoke, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “When I was quite young we used to visit the estate that will now be our home quite often. I even tried to build a treehouse in the gardens.”
Caroline laughed softly despite her nerves. “You… you tried to build a treehouse? By yourself?”
Sebastian nodded, his eyes twinkling with delight. “It was quite the adventure,” he continued. My best friend, Nathaniel, had gotten it into his head that we were becoming men and we simply must have a treehouse. Nathaniel is an earl now and rather than marry, he has dedicated his life to exploring the world.”
Caroline could not deny being slightly interested in his story. “So what happened?”
He paused, shaking his head at the memory. “Of course, being the young, impossible boys we were, we decided to build it ourselves. We snuck away from the governess’s watchful eyes, armed with a hammer, some nails, and a few old boards we'dmanaged to… well, let’s say borrow… from the groundskeeper's shed.”
Caroline lifted a brow, a smile forming around her lips. “And did you manage it? To build the treehouse, I mean?”
