Freedom Forever by Lexy Timms

Synopsis:
    Chapter 1
    The sounds of the party rippled through the autumn night. The air carried the touch of winter, but no one cared: they had been dancing jigs and reels all night to the strains of violin, pan pipes, and accordion, and their cheers accompanied the rhythmic stamp of the dancers. The scent of peach pies and spiced punch mixed with the smoke from bonfires. It had been a solemn affair, the wedding: Clara resplendent in a pale blue gown that matched her eyes, and Jasper in a new suit, flowers in his buttonhole, his dark hair a perfect match for Clara’s golden curls.
    But as soon as the rings were exchanged and the vows spoken, the party had taken a more exuberant turn. Solomon, having given Clara away, made toasts and danced beautifully with Violet—who, even as awkward as she must feel in a dress, was a graceful enough dancer that the two made a beautiful pair.
    All of which left Cecelia with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, the same feeling that had been twisting there for weeks as she tried desperately to accustom herself to the idea of marriage.
    Marriage, of course...and the baby. Her stomach heaved again and she trembled as she leaned against the side of the barn, sweat standing out on her forehead. It would get better in time, her mother told her, but Cecelia was not so sure it would. How could she become whole in body when she felt so sick in spirit? She moved through her days like a ghost, hardly speaking, watching her belly grow a little rounder each day, and her eyes grow a little more shadowed.
    She could only be glad that her sister was being married, and her brother was engaged as well, for the natural curiosity of her siblings had been muted by the excitement in the Dalton household. Clara, sharp-eyed, was nonetheless giddy with her own marriage, Jasper had been bedbound until his injuries—a few cracked ribs and too many bruises to count—had healed, and Solomon, now that Cecelia was properly engaged, had been entirely absorbed with his own romance.
    No one had asked too many questions, and Cecelia was glad of it, for she did not think she had the heart to lie. And she must lie, that had been made very clear to her. She straightened up and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, then grimaced and stumbled to the water butt, washing her hand and her mouth alike with cold water.
    The glare of the lanterns made her wince as she rejoined the party. With stars resplendent above, silvery and cold, the party looked warm and golden and beautiful. Candles and bonfires twinkled, and in the center of it all whirled Clara and Jasper, gold and chestnut, their faces alight with happiness. The music led them into a partner switch, and Clara whirled into Solomon’s arms, while Violet clutched at Jasper’s sleeve worriedly.
    “Come. We should dance.” Her fiancé’s voice was soft, even warm, but Cecelia felt only a sinking in her stomach.
    She looked over. Abraham Thompson was a fine-looking young man, all the young ladies of the town thought so. Even Cecelia had thought as much once. She’d be a fool not to, for with his reddish-brown hair and strong frame, the man cut a fine figure. A straight nose and a firm jaw rounded out a face with startling deep blue eyes and a full mouth. Cecelia knew that the other women at the party were envying her now, to see her put her hand in Abraham’s and follow him to the dance floor.
    But I don’t love him.
    She banished the traitorous thought with the tiniest shake of her head, nipping her lip with her teeth to remind herself to smile. Tonight was a happy night for her family, and they must all look merry.
    “Why, you must think this is a waltz,” Abraham said, a twinkle in his eye. “You’ll be falling behind in a moment.”
    “I apologize.” Cecelia willed her feet to move faster, but she could hardly think for the roar of the music. Her stomach was still churning, and the smells of roast pig and fresh pie, ale and punch, were almost too