Jane Feather: The Diamond Slipper

Leo, beside her, seemed to give the question due consideration as he watched the blur of the dancing children. "Highly unlikely," he pronounced finally.

"Well, all this excitement will lead to tears before bedtime," Mathilde declared, bustling over to the swirling girls. "Come along, now. You'll be needing your supper."

"Oh, it's been ready and waiting for them in the parlor for ages," Christian said, suddenly remembering. "Madame Boucher will be wondering what's happened to them."

"We'll go and set her mind at rest." Mathilde gathered the children in front of her and shooed them toward the inn door.

Christian, Leo, and Cordelia stood in the rosy glow of the setting sun, half smiling. "You will come and visit us?" Cordelia said, taking Christian's hand.

"Often." He squeezed her hand tightly. "And we'll write."

"Yes, of course. And you'll marry Clothilde?"

"Yes," he said definitely, and they both smiled.

"Be happy." Cordelia reached up to kiss him.

"And I know that you will be."

"Yes." She turned to Leo, her eyes radiant. "How could I be anything else now? I can't believe how lucky I am. I'm sure I don't deserve it."

"After what you've endured…" Christian began with sudden fierceness.

"It's over." She silenced him with a finger on his lips.

Leo came up behind her, slipping his arms over her shoulders, holding her against him. "Farewell, Christian. And remember that I owe you one very big favor… whenever you choose to claim it." He held out his hand and Christian shook it fervently. Then, with an almost embarrassed smile, Christian returned to the inn.

"It is really over," Cordelia whispered half to herself, wrapping her arms around Leo's encircling ones.

"My love, it's just beginning." He kissed her ear and she shivered deliciously, turning in his embrace, reaching her arms around his neck, her mouth seeking his.

Mathilde stood at the parlor window, the children's chatter at the supper table a faint buzz behind her, as she looked down on the stableyard with quiet satisfaction. Cordelia would not waste her life on a futile love as her mother had done. It was as it should be.