The Love between Robert and Harriet continue to immensely grow, the erotica tension between them didn't go unnoticed. They couldn't bear to be far from each other, everyone in the downtown and market square know them together. They were both each other's light.
Harriet couldn't help the dreamy smile that clung to her lips as she held a roll of plum-colored velvet against her chest. Her fingers weren't really sewing anymore she was floating, heart first.
Lisa leaned casually against the doorframe of the small, sunlit shop, her arms folded and a teasing glint in her eyes. "Why art thou smiling so sheepishly this morning?" she inquired.
Harriet, still entranced by thoughts of her beloved, looked up, her cheeks blooming pink. "Thou knowest well who causeth this merry smile, dear Lisa."
Lisa rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, I know not. Pray, enlighten me further."
Harriet clutched the velvet tighter and, as though a lass in the throes of love, twirled once in delight. "Since thou desirest to hear more love stories aside from those thou hast already heard it is none other than Robert Blackwood, my beloved, who maketh my heart swell and causeth me to smile like a babe unburdened by woes."
Lisa burst into hearty laughter. "Oh, my dear friend! Where art thou? I scarce recognize thee these days. Love, it seemeth, hath wrought a transformation in thee."
Harriet giggled, setting the velvet down with care. "Me thinks my guardian angel would have been most angry if I had not delivered thy message that day. Fate, it appears, was waiting to work its wonder."
Lisa's grin softened into a sentimental smile. "Well then, it appeareth that fate has not missed a mark. Thou art the very talk of Market Square. Just yesterday ,Mrs. Clemens herself declared, 'They look as two doves who have ne'er known sorrow.'"
Harriet's eyes sparkled with joyful fervour. "He said, too, that he would come to see my parents on the morrow and he shall bring along his family! Canst thou believe it? All seems so real now; he wishes to make it official."
Lisa stepped forward and took Harriet's hands in hers. "And thou deservest naught but the highest joy, every precious moment. Come, let us finish our day's work; thou must needs look most breathtaking on the morrow."
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The next afternoon, Harriet did stand before a large oval mirror in her modest chamber, diligently brushing out her thick, dark curls. Arrayed in a modest yet lovely cream gown with lace trim sewn by her dear mother, Agnes, for her birthday but two months past, she prepared herself for the day ahead. From the hallway, her mother peered in, a teasing smile upon her lips.
"Is it true, my dear, that thy mirth and humming this week are all for the sake of him?" Agnes queried, light-hearted.
Harriet turned, shy yet radiant. "Aye, Mum. Thou shalt come to like him. He is kind, and he hearkens to me much as Father doth when thou speakest."
Agnes smiled warmly, then called for Kalvin, her husband.
That very day, Robert, looking as dashing as ever in his navy wool coat, crisp ivory shirt with a finely starched collar, and that familiar glint of sincere devotion in his eyes, arrived with his esteemed parents. The sun, sinking gently behind distant hills, cast golden streaks across the fields, heralding a blessed meeting. Harriet, with a graceful curtsy, did hasten forth to greet them.
John Blackwood, Robert's father, broad-shouldered and carrying a silver walking cane with dignified ease—stepped forward with a quiet nod. "Mr. and Mrs. Fielding, we thank you for receiving us."
Kalvin, a stout man of quiet manners and a heart as ample as his farmhouse, welcomed them into the humble drawing room. Yet standing apart, Catherine, Robert's mother remained tall and regal, her eyes surveying Harriet's humble home with a trace of disapproval.
Inside, as Harriet poured tea with trembling hands, Robert gently touched her fingers to calm her, his concern conveyed in that tender gesture. Catherine observed as her son laughed freely beside Harriet, her lips set in a thin line. "Thou art a dressmaker, I pray?" she inquired coolly.
"Indeed, madam," replied Harriet politely. "My shop is near the town square; I have been sewing since my twelfth year."
"A commendable skill," said Catherine, though her tone betrayed little warmth.
Robert, discerning the slight chill in the air, squeezed Harriet's hand in silent protest. "Mother, her gowns are acclaimed in the very square why, even Mrs. Carlton doth wear one for Sunday service."
Catherine pressed a thin smile. "I am sure."
Though Catherine's unease lingered as they departed, Agnes whispered tenderly to Kalvin, "He is lovely, yet the mother's gaze doth warn; she doth hold fast to the notion of class." Kalvin murmured softly in reply.
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Two days hence, Harriet journeyed to the Blackwood estate, a basket of fruits in hand as token of courteous regard. The manor, grander than she had ever imagined with tall windows, stately white columns, and finely trimmed hedges could scarce daunt her determined spirit. Along the path, Robert met her halfway.
"You look nervous," he observed gently.
"I am," she confessed softly. "What if they do not welcome or take kindly to me?"
"Fear not, dear Harriet," he soothed, pressing a tender kiss upon her knuckles. "She need not be fond; only accept that I love thee with all my heart."
Inside, Catherine received her with distant civility, while John Blackwood quickly warmed to her gentle demeanour. "Thou hast set a shine in my son's eyes. For that, I commend thee," John said kindly.
Harriet blushed and replied, "He hath put a shine in mine as well."
"Come, let us eat," Catherine called from the kitchen, though her tone betrayed that even she could not fully suppress the charm of the two lovers.
After the repast, Robert took Harriet aside and led her, hand in hand, to the edge of town. "Close thine eyes," he bid softly.
"Robert…" she murmured, a note of trepidation and trust in her voice.
"Just trust me, dear," he entreated.
And so she did. He led her along a gravelled path, accompanied by the gentle chorus of chirping birds, until he spoke once more, "Open thine eyes."
Before her stood a modest white bungalow, its pale blue shutters accentuated by ivy that curled lovingly about the porch posts. A wide garden stretched toward the rear, with the mingling scent of fresh paint and blossoming flowers in the air.
"This is…?" Harriet breathed, marveling.
"'Tis our home, my love if thou wilt have me," Robert declared, his voice brimming with unwavering conviction.
Overcome with joy, she threw herself into his arms. Inside, the dwelling was warm and welcoming a haven with two bedrooms, a grand sitting room crowned by a welcoming fireplace, and a sunlit kitchen with soft cream walls. There was even a room set aside for thy art of sewing, foretelling many a contented day.
"I have ne'er been more certain of aught," Robert whispered into her hair, his voice a gentle caress. That evening, in the quiet center of their newfound home, Robert did take her hand and place something cool into her palm.
"A gift," he murmured softly.
When she opened her fingers, there lay a gold hairpin, fashioned in the shape of a delicate vine of leaves, studded with tiny inlaid sapphires that sparkled like stardust. "It is beautiful," she gasped, eyes glistening with wonder.
"I wrought it the night we first met, though I knew not then that it was destined for thee," Robert confessed, his tone laden with tender reminiscence.
Tears of quiet joy welled in her eyes as she fastened the hairpin into her flowing locks. They stood there in silence, foreheads pressed together, hearts racing.
"Dost thou believe 'tis fate?" she whispered.
"No," Robert replied, "I believe 'tis us."
And when they kissed again under the low lamplight, all the world beyond did cease to matter.
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The day of thier union did dawn in soft hues of rose and gold, as if Nature herself had conspired to bless thier sacred bond. Before the long-anticipated ceremony, they found themselves amid a flurry of preparations a scene both bustling with life and steeped in reverence.
In the modest drawing room of thehall adorned with garlands of fragrant roses and shimmering strands of pearls. Harriet sat patiently while gentle attendants arranged her ensemble. Her gown, wrought of the finest cream muslin and embroidered delicately with silver thread and tiny beads that did catch the light like scattered dewdrops, cascaded in a soft lace skirt and fitted bodice that did accentuate her graceful form. A filigree of pearls did line the neckline and sleeves, lending her an ethereal, almost angelic quality. Her auburn locks were styled neatly and crowned with a modest tiara of pearls and ribbons, a quiet majesty upon her head.
Across the winding corridor, Robert prepared in his appointed chamber. Arrayed in a dark, tailored frock coat of rich wool, trimmed with subtle embroidery along the cuffs and lapels, and beneath a crisp, ivory shirt, he fastened a burgundy waistcoat embossed with gilt buttons over his chest. His cravat, tied in a refined knot of deep navy, did complement his piercing blue eyes. A family heirloom ring, its opaline centre reflecting the light, adorned his hand—a symbol of strength and vulnerability intermingled.
The great hall, was a spacious, stately room with high, arched ceilings and vast windows draped in flowing curtains. Soft candlelight danced upon the richly polished wooden floors, while garlands of wildflowers intermingled with the heady fragrance of fresh roses and the delicate sparkle of pearls hanging artfully from above. Faint strains of a string quartet lent a tender prelude to the vows they were soon to exchange.
As the hour neared, a procession of attendants did announce Harriet's approach. There, at the top of a marble staircase, she stood radiant as the morning star—her eyes alight with joy and tender apprehension. All eyes in the hall were drawn to her, and Robert, caught in a spell of adoration, advanced toward the altar with a heart full of love and promise.
Before the ceremony commenced, they exchanged whispered words, voices soft and laden with the beauty of our era "My dearest Harriet, thou art the very embodiment of love's gentle grace, a vision that doth set my heart aflame."he said
"Robert, mine own heart hath long found solace in thee. Thou art my beacon in darkened times, the gentle hand that doth lift me when I falter."Harriet said with trembling voice.
At last, they stood before the altar, a lofty arch draped in ivy and clusters of white blossoms. Families gathered in hushed reverence, and the venerable officiant did call upon the sacred bonds of matrimony.
Standing side by side, with hearts pounding in unison, Robert took Harriet's trembling hands in his, feeling her warmth as though it were the gentle glow of candlelight on a winter's eve.
Then he spoke:
"Harriet, in thy eyes I behold the very stars of Heaven, and in thy smile, the promise of a brighter morrow. I do vow to honor thee, to cherish thee, and to stand steadfast by thy side through all tempests and tranquil seas. With this ring, I pledge my soul unto thee, that our love may endure as constant as the firmament above."
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she answered in turn:
"Robert, thou hast kindled the spark within my heart and nurtured its flame with gentle care. I do vow, with all that I am, to love thee unceasingly—to stand by thee in trials and triumphs alike. With this ring, I bind my spirit to thine, that our lives may be interwoven as the threads of a resplendent tapestry, rich in beauty and eternal in hope."
Tears, soft and luminous as pearls, shimmered in their eyes as they exchanged the rings a solemn token of thier eternal promise. And then, under the approving gaze of all present, thier lips did meet in a kiss that was both tender and all-consuming a kiss upon the altar that did seal thier covenant of hearts. It was a kiss that spoke of love lost and found, of passions that bridged the span 'twixt kindred souls.
"Congratulations to you, my dear friend," said Sylvester, shaking Robert's hand with hearty smile.
"Thank you, Sly," replied Robert, a playful twinkle in his eye. "And pray, when might the babe be due? I see Lisa is positively heavy."
"The doctor assures me it shall be next month. By then, I am sure thine own shall be a month gone," Sylvester winked, laughter echoing about.
"I can scarce wait for tonight," groaned Robert, his tone half jest, half earnest.
"I've known thee to be a bad boy, yet 'tis a wonder thou shouldst abstain for dear Harriet. She is such a virtuous lady, one who hath captured thy very heart," Sylvester remarked with a knowing smile.
"I consider myself the luckiest of men," Robert declared with unfeigned delight.
"Now, let me go meet my wife," Robert said joyously.
"Lisa! Wait for me, for the newly wedded hath begun to oppress me," cried Sylvester, laughing merrily.