Chapter 20: The vow

The day dawned with an air of anticipation. The morning sun rose slowly over Mayfair, casting its golden rays on a city already bustling with excitement. Hastings Manor was alive with activity. Servants hurried up and down the corridors, carrying bouquets, ribbons, and last-minute instructions. Eleanor paced the drawing room, her hands clasped tightly as she issued orders with precision.

But there was one glaring issue. Emma was nowhere to be found.

"Where is she?" Eleanor asked for the third time, her voice tinged with panic. "She was in her room an hour ago!"

Thomas, lounging by the fireplace with a biscuit in hand, grinned. "Relax, Mother. She probably ran away because she couldn't stand the thought of marrying Harrison."

Eleanor shot him a glare. "Thomas, this is no time for your antics."

Violet, seated nearby with her teacup, chuckled softly. "He's only teasing, Eleanor. Emma wouldn't miss this day for the world."

Still, Eleanor's nerves refused to settle. She had spent years dreaming of this day—her daughter, resplendent in white, walking down the aisle to marry a man who adored her. The thought of anything disrupting it was unbearable.

Meanwhile, in a quiet corner of Hyde Park, Harrison stood beneath the sprawling branches of an old oak tree. The morning air was crisp, and the scent of blooming flowers hung in the air. He adjusted his cravat for the fifth time, his nerves getting the better of him.

Then he saw her. Emma emerged from the path, her figure framed by the soft light of the sun. She wore a pale blue gown that fluttered gently in the breeze, her hair cascading down her shoulders in soft curls. In her hands, she held a small bouquet of wildflowers.

For a moment, Harrison forgot to breathe.

"You're here," he said softly, stepping toward her.

Emma smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Of course I am. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

They stood in silence for a moment, simply taking in each other's presence. Then Harrison reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of parchment.

"I thought we could say our vows here," he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "Just you and me, before everyone else. Before the world intrudes."

Emma nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

Harrison unfolded the parchment and took a deep breath. "Emma, from the moment I first saw you, I knew my life would never be the same. You are my light, my anchor, my greatest joy. Today, I vow to love you with every part of my being. To protect you, to cherish you, and to honor the incredible woman you are. You've shown me what it means to truly live, and I promise to spend the rest of my life proving myself worthy of your love."

Emma's tears spilled over as she reached for his hand. "Harrison," she began, her voice trembling. "You are my greatest blessing. In a world that often felt so uncertain, you were my constant. My safe place. Today, I vow to stand by your side through every storm, to celebrate every triumph, and to love you with a heart that is wholly yours. You are my home, and I can't wait to begin our forever."

They gazed at each other, their emotions raw and unfiltered. Harrison leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I love you," he whispered.

"And I love you," Emma replied, her voice soft but resolute.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The park, the world, everything beyond their little bubble faded into insignificance.

Back at Hastings Manor, Thomas had taken it upon himself to add to the day's chaos.

"I don't see what the fuss is about," he declared as he popped another biscuit into his mouth. "If she's late, we can just tell Harrison she got cold feet. He'll understand."

Eleanor turned to him, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Thomas, if you don't stop that nonsense, I will personally ensure you have no biscuits for a month."

Thomas feigned horror. "A month? Mother, you wouldn't dare!"

Before Eleanor could reply, the door opened, and Emma stepped inside.

"I'm here!" she called out, her cheeks flushed from the cool morning air.

Eleanor let out a breath of relief, rushing over to her. "Where have you been? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

Emma smiled apologetically. "I needed a moment. But I'm ready now."

Thomas sauntered over, a wicked grin on his face. "A moment with Harrison, perhaps?"

Emma blushed furiously, but before she could retort, Eleanor shooed Thomas away. "Go find your father and leave your sister alone."

Thomas winked at Emma before heading out, his mischief clearly unrepentant.

As Emma was whisked away to prepare for the church, she found herself thinking of the park and the vows she and Harrison had shared. They had been alone, without the grandeur of the ceremony or the weight of expectations. It was a moment that was entirely theirs, one she would carry in her heart forever.

The room Emma was ushered into was nothing short of a masterpiece. Soft sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, casting intricate patterns on the plush carpet. The vanity table was adorned with delicate vials of perfume, sparkling jewelry, and an ornate silver mirror. Her gown hung on a wooden frame near the bed, gleaming like a pearl in the morning light.

It was a creation of dreams. The dress was an elegant masterpiece of ivory silk and lace, its bodice embroidered with tiny pearls that shimmered like dew drops. The sleeves were long and sheer, with lace detailing that cascaded like vines over her arms. The skirt flowed outward, its layers of tulle and silk trailing gracefully to the floor, creating the perfect silhouette of timeless beauty.

Emma stood in her chemise as the maids bustled around her, each attending to their assigned task. One carefully brushed her hair until it gleamed, another helped lace up her corset, and yet another fussed over the arrangement of the veil that would later frame her face.

Eleanor entered the room, a proud yet emotional smile on her face. She held a sapphire necklace in her hands—a family heirloom passed down through the generations.

"This," Eleanor said, her voice thick with emotion, "belonged to my grandmother. I always dreamed of giving it to my daughter on her wedding day. And now, here we are."

Emma's throat tightened as Eleanor gently clasped the necklace around her neck. The sapphire rested just above her collarbone, a perfect match to the serene blue of her eyes.

"Thank you," Emma whispered, her voice trembling. "For everything."

Eleanor kissed her daughter's forehead, her composure breaking just slightly. "You've brought more joy to this family than I could have ever imagined. Today, you'll make us all proud."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Before anyone could respond, Beatrice burst in, her face alight with excitement.

"Emma!" she exclaimed, her eyes immediately landing on the gown. "Oh, it's absolutely stunning! You're going to look like a fairy-tale princess."

Emma laughed, her nerves easing slightly at Beatrice's enthusiasm. "Thank you, Bea. But I don't think I need to look like a princess today—I just want to look like me."

"Well, you're going to outshine every princess, queen, and duchess who's ever lived," Beatrice declared, walking over to inspect the gown more closely. "And if Harrison doesn't cry when he sees you, I'll make sure he regrets it."

"Beatrice!" Eleanor admonished, though there was a hint of amusement in her tone.

Beatrice winked at Emma before stepping back to take in the scene. "You look perfect already, but just wait until that gown is on you. May I stay and help?"

Emma nodded, grateful for her friend's presence. Beatrice had always been like a sister to her, and having her here now made the moment even more special.

As the maids worked to carefully slip the gown over Emma's head and secure its intricate buttons, Beatrice kept up a steady stream of chatter.

"Do you know how many ladies I overheard swooning over Harrison last night? At least half the guest list, I'm sure," she said with a dramatic sigh. "I told them all they didn't stand a chance—you've already claimed the most eligible man in England."

Emma shook her head, trying to suppress a smile. "Harrison is more than just 'eligible,' Bea."

"Oh, I know," Beatrice replied, her expression softening. "He's also madly in love with you. You should have seen him this morning—he could hardly sit still. I think he's more nervous than you are."

Eleanor's voice interrupted the conversation. "Beatrice, if you keep distracting Emma, we'll never make it to the church on time."

Beatrice held up her hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right. I'll behave."

When the gown was finally in place, the room fell silent. Emma turned to face the full-length mirror, and the sight took her breath away.

She hardly recognized herself. The woman staring back at her was radiant, regal, and every bit the bride she had dreamed of being. The sapphire necklace sparkled against her skin, and the veil, now pinned in place, added an ethereal touch to the ensemble.

"Oh, Emma," Beatrice whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You're… perfect."

Emma turned to face her friend, her eyes glistening. "Thank you, Bea. For being here. For everything."

Beatrice grinned, though her own eyes were damp. "Always."

Downstairs, Thomas was growing impatient.

"Why do weddings take so long to start?" he complained, pacing the drawing room. "Emma isn't inventing a new gown, is she?"

Alfred, who was seated by the fireplace, looked up from his newspaper with a faint smile. "Patience, Thomas. It's her wedding day—she's allowed to take her time."

Thomas huffed but stopped pacing. "Fine. But if she's not ready soon, I'm going up there myself to drag her down."

Eleanor entered the room just then, her expression serene. "She's ready," she announced.

Thomas straightened up immediately. "Finally! Let's get this show on the road."

Eleanor shook her head fondly. "Mind your manners, Thomas. This is your sister's day, not a horse race."

As the carriage arrived to take them to the church, Emma descended the grand staircase, her gown flowing like a river of silk behind her. The entire household paused to watch, their faces lighting up with awe.

Harrison would be waiting for her at the church, but as she stepped into the carriage with her family, Emma found herself smiling. This was the beginning of her forever, and she couldn't wait to take the next step.

The air in St. George's Chapel was thick with anticipation as Emma stepped into the grand hall, her arm securely looped through Alfred's. The congregation rose in reverence, their collective awe palpable. Emma's beauty was transcendent, her dress a masterpiece of shimmering ivory satin and delicate lace, adorned with pearls that reflected the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows.

The lace veil draped over her face gave her an ethereal presence, and the soft rustle of her gown as she walked added to the sanctity of the moment. Alfred, proud and emotional, leaned closer and whispered, "The world may not deserve you, Emma, but today, they'll see what a gift you are."

Emma glanced up at him, her smile trembling with emotion. "Thank you, Father. I couldn't have made it here without you."

The organ's majestic notes swelled, signaling her approach. At the altar, Harrison stood tall, but his hands trembled slightly. When his eyes met Emma's, his composure cracked. A tear slipped down his cheek as he took in the vision before him. She wasn't just his bride—she was his future, his hope, and his everything.

Thomas, seated near the front, nudged Beatrice with a teasing grin. "Look at him. I've never seen Harrison cry before. If I'd known Emma could do that, I'd have asked her to marry him sooner!"

Beatrice rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. "Hush, Thomas. This is their moment."

As Emma reached the altar, Alfred gently lifted her veil, revealing her glowing face. He kissed her cheek and placed her hand in Harrison's. "Take care of her," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

"I will," Harrison replied, his voice steady even as his tears continued to fall.

Emma and Harrison exchanged a glance that spoke volumes, their love and shared history shining in their eyes.

The air inside St. George's Church was warm and filled with the soft hum of anticipation. Candles flickered in their holders, their glow reflecting off the golden accents of the altar. Emma stood before Harrison, her heart pounding as the priest's words wrapped around her like a blessing.

"If anyone has cause why this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

The silence that followed was absolute. Emma glanced at Harrison, who smiled faintly, squeezing her hands in reassurance. This was their moment—a moment they had fought so hard for.

But then, the heavy oak doors groaned as they swung open with a force that sent a gust of cold air rushing through the sacred space. The sudden noise startled the congregation, and all heads turned toward the entrance.

In the doorway stood a line of royal soldiers, their crimson uniforms striking against the soft hues of the church. The leader, a man with a stern expression and a commanding presence, stepped forward. The clinking of his boots against the marble floor echoed like a warning.

"This wedding cannot proceed!" he announced, his voice reverberating through the stunned silence.

Emma's blood ran cold. The bouquet in her hands trembled as memories she thought she had buried surged forward unbidden. Another church. Another wedding. Another interruption.

Her mind flashed back to the dimly lit chapel in Benin, where she had once stood as a frightened girl. The faint scent of burning incense and the rhythmic chants of priests came rushing back. She remembered the fear in her mother's eyes as the doors had been thrown open, much like today. That ceremony, too, had been stopped before it began.

She blinked rapidly, trying to shake the memory, but her knees wavered. Harrison noticed the shift in her demeanor and stepped closer, his hand tightening around hers.

"Who dares to disrupt this union?" Harrison demanded, his voice sharp and protective.

The soldier's gaze flicked to him, then back to Emma. His tone was formal, yet there was a shadow of sympathy in his eyes. "I regret to inform you that Miss Emma Hastings must leave with us immediately. This wedding is no longer permitted."

Gasps rippled through the congregation like a stone dropped in still water. Eleanor rose from her seat, her hand clutching Alfred's arm. Beatrice, wide-eyed and trembling, stared at her brother in shock.

"This is madness!" Alfred thundered, stepping forward. "Who gave you the authority to interfere with this sacred ceremony?"

The soldier stiffened but did not falter. "I am under direct orders, my lord. Miss Hastings is required elsewhere. I cannot disclose further details."

Harrison's eyes burned with fury. "She isn't going anywhere. Do you hear me? You'll have to get through me first."

"Harrison…" Emma's voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to make him turn to her.

Her eyes were glassy, distant, as though she were seeing something beyond the walls of the church. Images of her younger self, standing barefoot on cool stone, flitted through her mind. The echo of her mother's voice, pleading for mercy, overlapped with the present.

"Emma?" Harrison's voice softened, his anger giving way to concern.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself back to the present. "I—" Her words caught in her throat as she looked at him, his face a mixture of desperation and resolve.

The soldier took another step forward, his voice low and almost apologetic. "Miss Hastings, please. I don't wish to use force."

Emma's hands trembled in Harrison's grasp. The memories of her past were too vivid, too raw. She could feel the weight of her duty pressing down on her, even if she didn't yet fully understand it.

"I can't let them hurt you, Harrison," she said finally, her voice breaking.

"No one is going to hurt me," he replied firmly. "And no one is taking you away."

Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head. "You don't understand… This isn't just about us."

"Then explain it to me!" he begged, his voice cracking. "Because I don't understand why you're letting them do this!"

The soldier raised his hand, signaling to his men. Two guards moved forward, their expressions grim. Emma looked at them, then back at Harrison, her heart shattering.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

And then she let go of his hands.

The world seemed to slow as the soldiers stepped beside her, their presence cold and unyielding. The congregation was frozen in collective disbelief, their whispered conversations filling the air like a faint hum.

Harrison stood rooted to the spot, his eyes never leaving hers as the soldiers escorted her down the aisle. Emma didn't look back, but her tears fell freely, splashing onto the stone floor as she walked.

The doors closed with a heavy thud, sealing her fate and leaving Harrison alone at the altar. The church, once filled with light and joy, now seemed hollow and lifeless.