Pasha by Julian Stockwin

She burst out anew with anguished sobbing.
    â€œAh. Well, if I were you I’d clap on all sail and go back to him before he changes his mind.”
    He produced a handkerchief and waited while she composed herself. “Now then, sis, you go to him and say—well, say what you need to.”
    They left the bedroom but Mrs Kydd and the maid were standing white-faced outside.
    â€œWhatever is the matter, m’ dear?”
    â€œMa, Cecilia has something she wants to say to Mr Renzi.”
    â€œIf he’s been upsettin’ my darlin,’ then—”
    â€œWe wait outside, Ma.”
    It was not long: the door opened and the pair stood before them, hand in hand.
    â€œMama, we’re to be wed!” Cecilia breathed, eyes sparkling.
    â€œOh! My dear, I never guessed—at all! We’re so happy for you an’ Mr Renzi, you’ve no idea. Why, I thought—”
    In a formal tone Renzi addressed the mother of his intended. “Mrs Kydd. I’d be obliged to Mr Kydd for a few words in private, should he be at leisure.”
    â€œY-yes, o’ course. Um, Walter’s upstairs restin,’ but what with all this to-do, I’m sure he’ll be awake by now. I’ll call him down for ye.”
    â€œNo, no. I do not wish to inconvenience. I shall go up to him.”
    In a short while there were voices, and Renzi came down, guiding the sightless Mr Kydd into the drawing room, the others eagerly following.
    â€œMy dear Fanny,” he said, his voice quavering. “I have given Mr Renzi my blessing on the union of himself and young Cecilia.”
    This time it was Mrs Kydd who broke down in floods of tears and could only be consoled by much hugging from her daughter.
    Kydd gazed at his friend with affection and respect. “I never thought I’d live to see the day, Nicholas, this I swear.”
    Renzi gave Cecilia a look of such warmth and rapture it reduced the whole room to silence. “My love, we are now to be married.In token of this I would have you accept this gift, which comes from my heart.”
    He drew out a small pouch of crimson velvet.
    She took it reverently and opened it to find a shining gold ring.
    â€œNicholas! My darling!” She bravely held back the tears as she held it up to admire. “Oh, this is a posy ring! There’s something written inside … What does it say?”
    â€œThis is the noble Seneca, observing the human condition.
‘Quos amor verus tenuit, tenebit.’
By which he means ‘True love will ever abide in those whom it does seize.’ And this is to say I’m sanguine we could never have escaped our fate, my dearest Cecilia.”
    She clutched him tightly, then kissed him with passion, oblivious to the audience.
    He held her away, tears starting in his own eyes. “Need we delay in our wedding, my dearest?”
    â€œNever a moment!” Cecilia whispered. “I shall have the banns called for this very Sunday.”
    â€œThen there’s but one thing left to complete our betrothal. My love, I want to present you to my family, if you will.”
    â€œOh, Nicholas, in all the excitement, we haven’t told you Thomas’s news.”
    â€œAnd Mrs Foster being so disagreeable about William, it was all I could do to hold my tongue, my dear.”
    Cecilia smiled sweetly. “I do feel for you, Hetty. I vow, it’s more than a saint could endure, that odious woman.”
    Her old school-friend adjusted her bonnet and looked at her affectionately. Not everyone was sympathetic to the lot of a governess in an aspiring household. “That’s kind in you to say so, Cecilia. Tell me, have you any news at all?”
    â€œWhy, yes, I suppose I have,” Cecilia said, hugging the moment to herself.
    â€œI’m to be married, Hetty.”
    â€œMarried?” she squealed, so loudly that other customers in the tea-house looked over curiously at them. “Who—that is,