No marriage is happy ever after - On VERY temporary hold!

Just before

Louisa kept the promise to her mother. The moment she reached the gates of the church, her three beautiful bridesmaids following behind her, she drew on all the skills she had ever been taught to make a lady. She straightened her back, held her chin at an even level and put on a tentative smile, fit for a bride. Her steps were measured; tiny steps at a fast pace that made her appear as if she was almost floating through the air.

The vestibule of the church was a rather small room. The walls were painted white just as the outer walls of the church. Small but frequent windows set at eye level gave way for the sun to lighten up the room. Rows of icons framed the closed doors leading into the nave, the doors painted the same color of red clay as the front gates.

To the left beneath one of the windows stood one elderly man. He was easily identified as a noble even if he had been commonly dressed. He was not so but wore instead a naval blue jacket, cravat, white breeches and polished black boots. He stood with his back straight, slightly taller than Louisa, his hands firmly clasped behind his back and his head held high. His dark brown hair streaked with silver was combed back across his scalp revealing the receding hairline yet still giving the man an authoritative appearance. Everything about him was the definition of nobility.

He was gazing out the window when Louisa and her bridesmaids entered and did not seem to notice them, far gone in his own thoughts. Louisa went to a halt in the middle of the vestibule and silently turned to look at the older man. She could wait until he was finished contemplating.

The door shut behind her entourage and this particular sound seemed to wake the man from his reverie. He turned halfway around and then stopped abruptly. His brown eyes lit up and his mouth, the same thin line as Louisa had, parted in a warm smile.

The man turned fully, spread his hands out toward her and stepped closer. Louisa gave a small curtsey while making sure not to trip on her wedding dress. "Lord Wightwick," she said in her most polite voice while keeping the playful smile on her lips at bay. She could hear her bridesmaids shuffle in behind her without a word and curtsey as well before the lord of her old home.

"Louisa!" her father chuckled as he closed the gap between them. "You always were the silly girl." He took her hands in each of his and spread them out as he took a moment to look over her dress. "You look absolutely stunning, my dear."

Louisa felt a lump growing in her throat and it was all she could do to keep it down and keep smiling. She knew that her father meant every word, but she would have wished that the circumstances had been different. She would so deeply wish that he had not had a part in this wedding. While somehow accepting and perhaps even expecting that her mother would just marry her off to the highest bidder, she had always nurtured the hope that her father would look for a more pleasant, if less advantageous, match for his only daughter. She had felt so betrayed by the man she held in the highest esteem.

Lord Wightwick must have noticed the turmoil inside her, because he let go of her hands and embraced her tightly in his arms. "My dear little Louisa," he whispered into her ear, his voice sombre. "We all have our burdens that we must carry in this life. I am afraid this is yours." Louisa felt the lump in her throat thicken and a hole in her stomach taking shape. Perhaps she had still hoped that her father would in the very end relieve her from this marriage. She felt weak and breathless, her whole body succumbing to the hole reaching from her belly.

Lord Wightwick let go of her and clasped her shoulders in a warm grip. How she managed to keep standing during that short moment without any support but her own she did not know. Her father attempted a reassuring smile while looking straight into her eyes. "And if anyone can do this, it is my daughter."

A single tear escaped her eye. Her father put far too much trust in her. At this moment she was once again ready to flee. She glanced quickly at the doors to the left. She could run rather fast. She could probably reach some distance, even in her wedding dress, before anyone would catch up to her.