my braces which brings back memories of my interview.
I bite my lip. I hope I’m not letting the side down. It’s been hard to acclimatize to being a couple with someone who factors high in a lot of people’s lives. He owns a lot of land here, and everyone seems to know him. His family have their own pew in the church, for God’s sake, and his ancestors are buried in the chapel here. I have to say they don’t look any less grim in marble than they do in oils, but still, he has a place in the county and a family history that dates back hundreds of years, while I have none.
“You alright?”
I jump and find Silas staring at me enquiringly with a hint of worry in his eyes. He holds out his hand, and the worry eases a little when I immediately take it. I don’t even look around to see if we’re bothering people, which is one almighty plus from being with Silas, as he blatantly doesn’t care about people’s opinions. Part of that comes from being an aristocrat, but a large part is him. He doesn’t judge people and accepts them on their own merits and quite simply expects that back.
He’s loved around here because of the contribution he makes to the community. I know for a fact that he’s always being hit up for a loan and rarely refuses despite his own financial situation. I want to shake my head at him, but I can’t because I love him, and his open generosity and sense of responsibility are what makes him the man I love. So, I allow him to take my hand and lead me down the aisle towards the family pew. I’m sure there are some haters, but everyone I’ve come into contact with since I moved here has been lovely.
I slide into the pew closely followed by Silas. “It’s busy,” I mutter, looking around.
He grins. “You sound surprised. Did you think we’d all be off making wicker man statues?”
“No, because Christopher Lee isn’t a resident,” I say primly.
He laughs, and it’s loud enough to make people around us smile. He leans in closer. “What would you have been doing this time last year?”
I nudge him. “Silas, we’re in church. You can’t ask those sort of questions.”
He pats my knee. “Well, don’t worry, I’ll endeavour to keep to your traditions later on. You know your heritage is important to me.”
Luckily my laughter is drowned out by the vicar starting to talk, and I sit back, aware of the warmth and solidity of Silas’s body next to mine and the calluses on his palm as he cradles my hand in his. The service is surprisingly beautiful, and I feel a warmth in my chest as I look around at the congregation singing the words to the beautiful old carols. Candles gutter and burn in the windows, making the stained glass glow like jewels, and the church is filled with the smell of pine from the wreaths.
Just as with Chi an Mor I feel a startling sense of kinship here, like I’m finally where I’m meant to be, with the person intended for me. It makes me mellow in too many ways for me to count.
When the service is finished, we wait in the pew while the rows behind us start to empty. “Did you and Henry sit here every Sunday?” I ask idly.
He smiles. “Yep. Every single Sunday. With my mother and father on either side of us pretending we were one big happy family.”
I squeeze his hand. “Well, part of that equation is right. You and Henry are a happy family.”
He lifts my fingers and drops a casual kiss on them. “With you and Ivo, yes, we are now.”
I shake my head. “Sometimes I can’t believe how posh you are, Silas. This is your very own pew.”
“You contribute what we have to the upkeep of the church, and you can have one too.”
“I want gold letters spelling out my name,” I say in a pompous voice. “And I want music to play when I sit down.”
“I can think of certain circumstances when I’ve heard music playing when you sat down on me,” he says casually.
I gasp and elbow him. “Silas Ashworth, we’re in church.”
He grins. “We weren’t that posh anyway. Look at the pew in front of you.”
I bend down, and for a second I can’t see what he’s pointing at, and then I snort. “Oh, my God!”