XI

"Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night." William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

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XI.

After two weeks of diligent and delicate sewing, Susanna's gown was completed just in time for the wedding. It was perfect. It was a masterpiece. Belle wished she had some sort of way to capture the memory of what would be the most beautiful garment she would ever create.

Throwing herself into the making of Susanna's wedding gown had been a godsend to distract herself from the burgeoning feelings in her heart towards Peter Denham, but it had also been an important reminder of what Belle really wanted to make out of her life.

As much as she appreciated making a wage at the grocer, and as much as she was grateful for the work from the people of Ashwood, Belle's dreams were bigger than that. She had talent. She knew it in her soul. Belle had the ability to create magnificent things, and it was honestly saddening to think that Susanna's wedding gown would be the first and last creation of that kind for her.

Belle had dreams. But so did many of the people whom she had known in Saint-Martin. Dreams were not achievable for people like them. Belle had already done the unthinkable. She had escaped. She was free. She was a free woman of colour. All of her dreams, every one of her wishes and prayers, had already been used up. To ask more of God was selfish and unreasonable ... and so very unrealistic.

"Susanna ..." uttered Cecily breathlessly as she clapped her hands over her mouth.

Belle couldn't help the fluttering of pride she felt at seeing tears in the dowager duchess' eyes. Belle had never before seen such emotion in her.

Susanna beamed as she ran her hands over the skirt of her gown. She was stunning. The most beautiful bride there ever was. Not that Belle had been privy to many weddings, but she was quite certain that there had never been such a bride as Susanna Beresford before.

Susanna's golden hair was styled intricately under her veil. Her soft, feminine figure simply melted into the wedding gown. The dress, itself, was a beautiful champagne silk colour with a net of white lace over top. The short, layered puff sleeves were perfect for an early autumnal wedding. Belle had embroidered Haitian hibiscus flowers in silver thread over the lace, a labour that had taken her hours upon hours, nearly making her fingers bleed. But the result was worth it. The silk and embroidered lace continued through the marvellous train of the gown, giving the bride and air of grandeur and drama, as she was certain to be the centre of all focus when she entered the church.

"Belle, what you have managed to do ..." gasped Grace. "Why, I have never seen anything so meticulously beautiful. You are an artist."

Belle felt deeply prideful. "Thank you," she said appreciatively.

"It is, without a doubt, the gown of my dreams ... and the flowers, Belle!" gushed Susanna as she traced over one of the hibiscus flowers with her index finger. "It is perfect. Thank you, my friend."

Belle smiled. "You are welcome ... my friend." To speak those words meant a lot to her.

"How are we to get through this day without crying?" Grace asked exasperatedly as she fanned her face.

"We're not!" declared Claire as she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Don't you start, or I will!" Susanna begged.

But then Cecily let out a sound that Belle had never heard before. It was a sob, and she quickly pulled her daughter into her arms and hugged her tightly. "How can I part with you? How can I do it?" she asked emotionally. "How could you leave me?"

"Mama, I am moving but a mile down the road," Susanna said assuredly. Nevertheless, she returned her mother's hug tightly, and Belle could see the emotion there.

It was a sight that Belle felt privileged to be witness to, for she had never had something like this herself. She had felt this all the months she had been in residence at Ashwood House. This was family. They were a family. They loved one another. There were weddings and birthdays, Sunday suppers, occasions in which they gathered and celebrated one another. To have such a family would be, without a doubt, a treasure to Belle.

But like her other dreams, she knew it was not attainable.

"It might as well be a hundred miles," retorted Cecily. "You will no longer be in the next bedroom." She pulled back and cupped her daughter's face. She sniffed, before smiling through her tears. "Who will support me in my efforts to make Grace eat better when she is with child so that she may have a son?"

Susanna, Grace, Claire, and finally Cecily laughed, and Belle felt that she had certainly misunderstood whatever the joke was. Sometimes humour was lost on her with the language difficulties.

"I never supported that nonsense in the first place. You can be certain that I will be here as much as you like ... as an ally to Grace, of course."

Cecily shook her head as she kissed Susanna's cheek. "I love you. I am so proud of you. And how I will miss you, a mile or not."

"I love you, Mama," returned Susanna, her voice cracking.

"I wish your father was here to see you, dear Susanna," Cecily then murmured softly. "He would be so proud to give you away."

The mention of her father caused Susanna's eyes to well up, but she smiled still.

Their attentions were all captured by the sound of a gentle knock on the door.

"Are we all decent? May the gentlemen enter?" sounded a voice from behind the door.

"Yes!" called Susanna. "Come in."

The door opened and Adam and Jack entered, both dressed in their finest tails and looking very dashing, indeed. But their eyes were only for their sister.

"You look wonderful, Susanna," complimented Adam sincerely.

Jack stood at his wife's side, resting his arm around her waist as he agreed with his brother. "Amazing what can be done when one isn't racing to the altar."

Claire turned quite the colour of a tomato as she slapped Jack's chest, eliciting a chuckle from him. He then kissed her temple.

"You're a vision, Susanna," Jack then said seriously. "I wish you nothing but the purest happiness."

"Come along then, everyone," urged Adam. "We've a bride to give away."

***

The church was filled. The entire village, the Beresfords' London acquaintances, and dozens upon dozens of people whom Peter did not recognise had filled each and every one of the pews. Peter had never before seen the Ashwood church so populated.

Alex stood at the altar looking quite uncomfortable. Ordinarily, Peter presumed, bridegrooms would be standing in anxious anticipation of their intended's arrival. Though Alex was, sadly, standing up on a stage in perfect view of the gawking crowd. Peter was certain that there was more than one guest who had accepted the invitation to view the spectacle and to spread the word about the most scandalous match that would probably ever be made.

A beautiful heiress, the daughter and sister of a duke, to wed a black freedman. Peter honestly hated to imagine what the papers in London were saying about now, and he was relieved that he was not currently there to see them.

But their life would not be in London. Their life would be on their land. And this spectacle would die down when they grew bored of waiting for Alex and Susanna to attempt to enter to society together. They would not. Their life was to be far greater.

That was how they loved each other.

It did not make Peter envy. But it did make Peter wish. It had been two weeks since Belle had made whatever decision it was inside her head to be indifferent to him, and his visits to the grocer, and his presence at Sunday dinners, had not convinced her away from this mindset.

He willed himself to have patience and to be compassionate. But he missed her. He missed her, and yet he had never really gotten the chance to know her. How could one miss something that they'd never had? It only further convinced Peter that there was something special to be uncovered.

"It's very lovely, isn't it?" Mrs Denham whispered to Peter. "Alex's garb. Madame Amélie made it herself. It is traditional, I understand."

At first glance by the length of the garment, Alex looked to be wearing a black nightshirt. Though anyone could see it was much finer. The front of the shirt was decorated with golden swirls of embroidery. It was entirely symmetrical on both sides and was certainly magnificent.

The doors to the church opened and, naturally, every head in the church turned back. Cecily entered first on the arm of Jack. She looked incredibly dignified as mother of the bride, and anyone who had might have dared whisper something about Cecily's soon-to-be son in law certainly kept their lips shut.

Behind Cecily and Jack came Grace and Claire, before finally their four nieces toddled in as Susanna's bridesmaids. Perrie, as the eldest, was responsible for pulling along the frilly, lacy wagon in which Maria was laying. Both Lily and Jackie waddled in alongside the wagon.

But Belle was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, my precious angels," whispered Mrs Denham in a gush.

Peter heard a door to the side of church open and close gently. He turned toward the noise and that was when he spotted Belle sneaking into the church in hopes that she would not be noticed. But how dismally she had failed when she looked as she did.

She wore blue, a beautiful coral blue that he had never seen her in before. The cool brown of her skin looked absolutely stunning with the colour that she had chosen. The bodice of the dress hugged her small frame just so, and the skirt moved with her elegantly. Her dark, curly hair was pulled back away from her face, and underneath a white bonnet with a ribbon that matched her gown exactly. A few of her tight curls still framed her face which, Peter could not be certain, but which appeared today to look slightly rounder, as though her cheeks were a little fuller and he had not noticed.

"Oh," said Mrs Denham breathlessly. "Oh, she is just so beautiful."

"Yes, she is," murmured Peter in reply, not taking his eyes off of Belle as she quickly took a seat on the end of the front pew beside Amélie.

But it was the harmonium starting that made Peter realise his mother had been referring to Susanna, who had just entered the church on the arm of Adam.

***

The ceremony was lovely, if not a little long, as Susanna had surprised her now husband by repeating her vows to him first in English, and then in French. But no one, not even the naysayers, the gawkers, or the gossipmongers, could deny that Alex and Susanna loved love one another, and Peter did not know how anyone could not wish them happiness.

The wedding breakfast was elaborate and magnificent, and no expense was spared. Peter did not think that he had ever seen so much decadent food in his life.

With Susanna on his arm, Alex appeared to be much more relaxed as they roamed the room, receiving the congratulatory wishes from their guests, both genuine and the saccharine sweet, before they were claimed by Alex's father, Captain Whitfield, who had returned in time to attend the wedding.

The jovial music was playing, dancing had begun, and the ballroom was certainly abuzz with laughter, conversations, and gossip, of course.

Peter had not yet been able to speak to Belle. They had been seated at different tables for the meal, and until recently, Susanna had been bringing Belle around the ballroom introducing her to people as the brilliant craftswoman who created the wedding gown.

Belle looked entirely self-conscious. And, of course, she kept her eyes low whenever she could. Peter wanted to believe that her bashfulness stemmed from modesty over Susanna's praise, but he knew it was far more deep-rooted than that.

How he wanted to ask her about it. How he wanted to know her mind, her heart, and exactly how and why she felt the way she did. How he wanted to be someone she could trust, to be someone with whom she felt comfortable confiding in.

"Doesn't Lady Susanna look divine?"

"That dress! I know. It is positively stunning. What I would give to wear something that ethereal when I marry."

The women gushing behind Peter sounded like so many others he had overheard in the ballroom. Peter hoped that Belle could hear it, too. They loved her work.

"I really struggle to believe that she could have made something like that. I heard she's a seamstress in the village. She mends buttons."

Peter's ears pricked up. The tone of the women had changed, and they were talking about Belle.

"I heard that, too," agreed the other woman. "She's not a very remarkable one of them, is she? At least the husband is somewhat striking in a way. She's so ... scrawny ... and I never imagined anyone's skin could be so ... black."

"Oh, you needn't be so polite with me, Margaret," giggled her friend. "My father's known quite a few blackies in London. They are all frightful to look at, he says. If he knew I was here at this wedding, he would certainly disinherit me, but I could not deny the chance to see the shambles that is now Lady Susanna's reputation. Of course, it would have been better, made sense, you know, for the blackies to marry each other. But with Susanna taking him, it leaves so many more gentleman in town searching."

"You're right," agreed Margaret, laughing. "Well, she might be a fright to look at, but her sewing is not. Wouldn't it be a treat if Papa could buy her for me? A dress slave to sew me gowns like that, oh! What a dream."

Something inside of Peter snapped and he rounded on the two women rather quickly, so quickly, in fact, that his sudden presence startled them.

"How dare you?" he snapped furiously, his tone making the women jump. "How dare you stand there and giggle and tease and make jokes about something so vilely inhuman?" he seethed. "What does that say about you? What little women does that make you? Does it make you feel prettier in the frocks you are wearing to degrade an innocent young woman because of the colour of her skin? Or are you so jealous of her and her talent that you feel the need to find false faults within her? Whatever the truth, it is utterly pathetic. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Belle Desjardins is quite certainly ten times the woman either of you are." Peter did not stutter. He scolded as though he was a man twenty years older than he was, and he could have kept going.

But the two women were white as ghosts, as their eyes suddenly looked past him. Peter looked around to find a pair of golden eyes standing not five feet from him, witnessing the entire exchange. Belle's features were softened with surprise, her lips parted as though she wanted to say something, but no words came.

As Peter was distracted, the two women scurried away, leaving him with Belle.

"I hope you did not hear any of that," Peter uttered.

"I did not hear them," Belle said softly. "But I heard you. I can imagine what they said. But I heard what you said, how you spoke for me."

The indifference was gone. The hard shell that she had hidden herself away in had vanished, and Peter felt like for the first time he was seeing into her. There were no shields in front of her golden eyes. They were molten oceans of feeling. And she was looking at him.

There were dozens of things that Peter could have said, or that he would have liked to have said. But only one came to mind in that moment. He held out his hand and asked, "Will you dance with me?"

Peter knew with this gesture that he had asked a lot more of Belle than for just a dance. He was asking her to brave something that frightened her. She didn't like to be touched. He had witnessed this unease. But, in this moment, he watched in awe and delight as Belle's small hand floated through the air before settling in his. The moment he had her, he closed his hand around hers, and he looked deeply in her eyes.

Belle's eyes were still so open. She was not hiding, at least not from him, and Peter could see how frightened she was at such a gesture. But she had done it. She had trusted him. That was all he wanted.

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Hope you enjoyed it!

Oh, Belle trusted our Peter! That's so great, because now that means they can live happily ever after with no drama and no problems and no twists or turns .... wait, that doesn't sound like me ...

Nope, that's definitely not me. It's only Chapter 11, after all ;) Gotta make you guys work for it with my trademark evilness hehehe. Oh, dear Peter and Belle, what plans I have for youuuuu :P

By the way - guess what idea finally hit me this week!! JACKIE'S STORY! I've had Jackie's whole character planned out, and her love interest planned, but I could not figure out a way to make the whole thing work together, and then it hit me ... now I'm trying to think of a title haha. I have 5 working titles and I'm not in love with any of them. When I figure it out, I will add it to the list.

I can't actually remember if I've told you which stories belong to whom yet so I will now.

Book 5: An Innocent Affair (Jem & his lil lady - I mentioned her name, did you pick it up?) This book is sooooo different to anything I've ever written. I'm really hoping you'll like it!

Book 6: A Fiery Dalliance (Perrie & her man - I love this plot so much, can't wait to give this to you!)

Book 7: A Secret Ambition (Lily & her man - again, love this, love him, so excited)

Book 8: Working Title (Jackie & her man - SO EXCITEDDDDDDDDDDDD)

Lol I couldn't leave this family so I'm going to be writing 8 books about them. Who knows, maybe more if the inspo strikes?

I hope all who celebrated had a lovely Diwali!

Vote and comment xxx