A White Rose for the Marquess Bonus Scene

Twenty years later

If anyone ever asked Arthur what he thought of life, he would tell them that life came around in a full circle.

On such a day as this, it was quite easy to go back around that circle. To think of how it all began, and where it had led them to.

In this very parish, twenty-two years ago, he had stood. Only, not here at the door, no. He had stood right inside the church, in front of everyone who mattered to him, waiting for the woman he loved.

He had known then that he would love her forever. As he had watched her walk down the aisle to him, beautiful as the sun, he had known that in the years to come, even when they would be old and grey, she would still be the loveliest woman to him.

If anyone had told him that, barely over twenty years later, he would be back here, escorting his own daughter down the aisle to the start of the rest of her life, he mayhap would have given it very little thought.

Yet, here he was. So many years had passed, yet it felt just like yesterday.

He remembered it all, very vividly. The white gown of purity Gwendoline had worn. The incandescent smile on her face as she saw him for the first time that morning.

The words of the vows they had spoken to each other, and that kiss that had sealed it all. He remembered it all, just as he remembered every day of their marriage since the first.

He was the happiest, most fulfilled man alive. Gwendoline and the family they had made together filled his heart with joy and gratitude every day.

Had it been as easy as he had envisioned? Certainly not. There had been days of tears, and silence. But through it all, they had remained a family, putting faith, love and forgiveness first.

He, who had never thought he would marry for the sake of love, had it in abundance in his household. Gwendoline, who had lost her entire family, had been given even more in return.

This was not the life he had hoped for; it was better.

"Why wouldn't they let us in?"

Arthur's lips curved in a smile as he turned to look at his sons. The good Lord had blessed Gwendoline and himself with two sons after Laurel.

Together, they had agreed to name them after the men that Gwendoline held dear to her heart - her father, Emmett, and her brother, Eric. It was Emmett who had spoken.

They were still growing into men. Although, at seventeen years old, it was easy for Arthur to see the man that Emmett would become.

He would be just like his father and late uncle and grandfathers. Noble in every sense of the word.

Eric, who was fourteen years old, would grow up to be just the same. Arthur knew this. It was in the way the child heeded the words of the older men in their lives. The way he consciously followed in their footsteps.

Arthur couldn't be prouder of them than he was already, gladdened that he had been as involved in their raising, as Gwendoline had been.

Contrary to English customs, where the raising of children was seen as a duty solely for their mothers and servants, Arthur had refused to be detached. He had wanted to have with his own children the relationship he had shared with his father, aware of the greater good it had done him.

Every time he looked at his sons, he saw how good a decision that was.

Gwendoline might have taken Laurel, but these boys were his. Save for their golden locks and Emmett's blue eyes, they bore a striking resemblance to him.

"Your mother says it won't be special that way," he answered Emmett's question. "She insists that we must only see your sister when she is fully dressed, so that we may fully experience the feeling of awe."

A small frown creased Eric's face and he soon let out the thought in his mind.

"She can't be any more beautiful than we already know she is. Moreover, I presumed this myth only concerned the groom? Well, neither of us are that now, are we?"

"Not to mention, they seem to be taking forever. How long does it take to wear a white dress, anyway?" Emmett added.

Arthur's smile spread wider. Moving to stand between his sons, he put an arm around each one's shoulders and squeezed firmly.

"As long as the bride wishes to take. A wedding is no simple affair. For many, it only happens once in a lifetime and must be done right.

"I do understand you, my boys. In fact, I believe that my patience comes with experience and the years. Look how anxious you are. Have you considered how anxious Lord Mannington must be?

"Ah... The day I was to be wedded to your mother, beads of sweat rolled down my face as I stood waiting for her to grace the aisle. A million thoughts ran through my mind. None of which were pleasant, I must confess. But when I finally saw her, everything else faded away, and all that mattered was her. Only her."

He had seen nothing else, heard nothing else. Gwendoline had been all that had been alive in that moment. Only Gwendoline.

He sighed as the memories flew away with a sweet whisper.

"A few weeks later, when I stood by your uncle as he waited for your aunt, I watched as he finally understood my anxiety. Of course, I returned the favour and jested a little..."

His sons chuckled, and he knew they were picturing it in their minds. They were awfully fond of Ethan and Fiona.

"However, because I knew better, I was able to get him to be calm. Sons, someday you both shall stand at that altar and wait for the women you love. Then, you shall fully understand what it means to be anxious.

"Nevertheless, I shall be here to support you, and let you know that you will make wonderful husbands. Today, it is not you who should be so agitated, it is Lord Mannington. Now, go do your duty and offer him some words of reassurance, will you?"

With eager nods, they were both on their way. Their gaits were confident and graceful as they strode into the church. Arthur watched them go, his heart filling.

As they took their place beside Lord Mannington at the altar, a soft hand touched his back. Once again, his lips curved as he turned around to behold his beloved wife.

Ah, but she was a sight to behold indeed. Beautiful as ever. Utterly lovely.

"You make me want to carry you to the priest and marry you all over again, looking that way."

She chuckled - it was a sound that was as sweet as the music she still made with her voice and her harp.

"You may, but only after our daughter has been wedded to Lord Mannington. She can barely contain herself."

"Ah. So, no cold feet? I had been hoping she would change her mind, so I would take her back home and have her to hold for a little while longer."

This time, Gwendoline smiled.

"You would still have to let her go at some point, Arthur. You can't keep her forever. And your daughter, she very much wants to be married to this man."

"She loves him too much," he grumbled.

"Like mother, like daughter, don't you think?"

She won the argument with those simple words, and she knew it. Rising on her tiptoes, she placed a lingering kiss to his cheek. As she withdrew, she whispered.

"She's ready."

Gwendoline stepped aside then, and Arthur looked up to behold an even more beautiful sight.

Right before him was Gwendoline again. Twenty-two years younger, in the same gown she had worn to be wedded to him.

Her hair held up with the same pins, the same crown of flowers sitting atop as though she had been born a queen. Soft tendrils of golden locks, kissing this side of her face. A vision of beauty.

Only, this Gwendoline, she had brown eyes.

Over the years, he had struggled with the awe that filled him whenever he looked at his daughter and saw his wife. Yet, it had never hit him as powerfully as it did in this moment.

He closed the distance between his daughter and himself, and kissed her head, ever so tenderly.

"I will never be able to get over how much you look like your mother. You are exactly as she was, the very day I married her in this parish. Yet, you are your own woman. So beautiful. So utterly beautiful. I love you, Laurel. So much."

His daughter's eyes began to water and he was quick to wipe the tears away.

"No. None of that. Today is a happy day. We mustn't ruin it with tears, though they are happy ones."

She smiled at him and took a deep breath. "Yes, Father."

"Good. Shall we?"

She took the arm he held out and hooked hers around it.

"Yes, we shall."

Gwendoline took one long look at them. Then, she kissed them both with all the love in her heart, and went into the church to take her place behind the pianoforte.

Together, Arthur and his daughter came to stand where he had been standing moments before. As the doors opened wide, his wife's voice floated to them.

She had insisted that she would sing her daughter's march. They had all agreed. It had seemed only fitting.

As the congregation rose, they began their walk to Laurel's future. Everyone who mattered was present, and Arthur saw them all.

His parents who were now very old. Aunt Leah and Uncle Albert who had found love in each other yet again. Fiona and Ethan, and their children, Francis and Elena. His sons. They were all here. Together, after all these years.

Finally, Arthur looked up at the man who was waiting for his daughter. Lord Nathaniel Mannington. He loved Laurel, almost as fiercely as Arthur had loved Gwendoline all those years ago. Arthur knew this.

And because he did, he knew Nathaniel would care for his daughter. That his love would only grow stronger. He knew Laurel would be happy and loved.

His daughter had made a great choice, because Gwendoline and he had given her the best example of what love was. For this reason, he gladly handed her over.

He smiled at his White Rose at the pianoforte, his eyes filled with the promise of love for all the years to come.