Epilogue
Cilla
Marplehurst Hall had come alive in the last week, with every guest chamber allocated and the nursery and schoolroom full.
Papa had lived here for several months every summer when the Marple sisters were still under his care, but since the last of them married years ago, the house had been empty, except for caretaker servants.
The steward of the estate, the man Papa had appointed to care for it in its owner’s absence, had his own cottage nearby. He had overseen the attic-to-cellars cleaning of the house in the past month, and had appointed a full staff of servants to serve the current house party.
It was a great opportunity to see one another all at once.
Marriage had scattered the three Marple sisters—one to Devon, one to Yorkshire, and one to Shropshire.
As for Cilla and Livy, they lived partly in London and partly in the Middlesex countryside, an easy two hours from their London townhouses.
Thanks in part to the success of the Pentworth engine, and successive designs by Anne Pentworth, they had been able to purchase the townhouse next door to the one they received as a wedding present.
They had introduced connecting doors between the buildings.
The fourth floors had become one large complex of nursery rooms, schoolrooms, and bedchambers for their children.
Other doors allowed free movement from one building to the other on every floor, and made it possible to open the reception rooms up into a single space if they wanted to host a ball.
They’d done the same with their country home, Cowcroft Court. Bane and Livy had their realm in the west wing, Drake and Cilla in the east, and the children—as in Town—shared one of the upper floors of the main house.
All five cousins, their husbands and children, and Papa had arrived at Marplestead several days ago. Lark and Phillip, too, but they were staying with Frannie at Barlow Hall, and the path between the two neighboring estates had seen much traffic in the past few days.
Today, though, Lark, Phillip, Frannie, and their respective children had stayed at home.
“We are not relatives,” Frannie had said. “His sisters and cousins should welcome him and his wife home. We neighbors will wait our turn.”
“Pa! Pa!” That was Livy’s Gareth, shouting at the top of his voice as he and Cilla’s own son Alfie burst into the drawing room where the adults were gathered. “The carriage is coming, Pa. We saw them turn in through the gates. I think it is them!”
“Gareth,” said Bane, “this is a drawing room, not a barnyard. No shouting.”
“Sorry, Pa. Sorry, Ma and aunties. But they’re here. They’re really here.”
The other children came racketing down from the nursery, the whole tribe of them—even the babies in their nursemaids’ arms. They must have heard the shouting, for they were doing a bit of it themselves. “Auntie Mary’s here! Uncle Jasper’s here!”
Several years ago, to her utter surprise, Cilla had received a letter from Jasper Marple, in which he acknowledged his villainy and made what sounded like a sincere apology.
Livy was inclined to think it was some sort of trick, but Drake, Bane, and Papa, who had been keeping track of her cousin—the only surviving member of what Bane called “that cabal of villains”—said that he seemed to have settled down, was earning a respectable living as the factor of a merchant, and had recently married.
Jasper appeared to have learned from his mistakes and grown up.
Unlike Curston and his father, who had been shot attempting to steal an East India Company pay chest, and Aunt Ginny, who had shortly after disappeared from view—some said into the seraglio of a sultan.
Cilla wrote back—just a couple of pages of news about his sisters, their husbands, and their babies.
She had not expected her brief note to initiate a correspondence.
Letters went back and forth. Jasper’s wife Mary became something of a friend to all five cousins due to those letters, and eventually most of them, even Livy and Papa, were convinced that Jasper’s change of heart was real.
It was not only letters that went back and forth, but presents.
Western toys and treats from England for three little Marples.
Wonders from India for his nieces and nephews, and his cousins’ children.
Now Jasper and his family were coming home, and the assembled children were beyond excited to finally meet the source of such amazing gifts.
Everyone but Papa crowded out onto the steps to see two carriages, both heavily laden, make the final turn into the courtyard. Cilla found herself nearly as excited as the children.
Drake had their little Olivia on his shoulders, with Gareth beside him.
Horatio, who was inclined to shyness, clung to Cilla’s skirts.
As the carriage drew up, Drake came up beside Cilla and put his free arm around her shoulders.
While he had agreed with the majority decision to invite Jasper to return, he was still wary.
Jasper was the first out of the carriage, flashing a grin at the crowd on the steps before turning to assist out two little girls, barely more than toddlers and then a diminutive lady who looked nearly as round as she was tall.
She faced the welcoming party with wide and anxious eyes the same brown as those of her twin daughters. The last of the party followed her from the carriage, taking his father’s hand to support a jump to the ground.
Pearl took the initiative, coming down the steps with her hand out. “You must be my sister Mary,” she said. “Come inside, dear. Such a long journey, and in your condition! The others will help my brother and the children.”
She linked arms with Jasper’s very pregnant wife and led her inside.
*
Drake
Pearl’s action broke the ice. Beryl and Ruby hurried after their sister and Marple’s wife, and the older children approached Marple and his children with eager smiles. “Cousin Jasper?” asked Gareth, who was as much the leader of the children as Bane was of the adults.
Marple put out his hand. “You would be Gareth Sanderson,” he said. “Yes, I am your Cousin Jasper, and here are my son Peregrine and my daughters Bethia and Mercy. This tall fellow must be Alfie. Won’t you introduce me and my family to my other nieces and nephews, and my cousins?”
Nicely said, and the man seemed sincere.
Drake stayed back with Cilla as the children were all introduced, Marple’s brothers-in-law stepped forward to introduce themselves, and Bane and Livy took their turn at speaking to the scoundrel.
Or possibly the ex-scoundrel. Drake had to acknowledge that the man had changed in more than appearance.
He not only acted more mature and responsible, he seemed at ease in his skin in a way totally foreign to the status-driven pack-follower of yesterday. And the way his children stayed close to his legs, as if confident of their father’s protection and support, suggested he was a good father, too.
The second carriage had disgorged a cluster of servants, including a woman with black hair and eyes, a costume composed of a colorful wrap of fabric, and a queenly carriage. While the other servants began to offload the luggage, she came to Marple’s side and held out her arms toward the children.
Marple spoke briefly, and then picked up the two girls, seating one on each arm. The woman bowed and stepped back.
Once the babble of introductions and welcomes died down, those on the carriageway began to make their way up the stairs, Marple still carrying his daughters, and the nurse—if that is what she was—leading little Peregrine.
Marple stopped a step below Cilla, so their eyes were level.
She said nothing. Drake tightened his grip, hugging her closer.
Marple looked up at him and inclined his head in acknowledgement.
“I have changed,” he said. “But I understand your caution.”
He continued up the stairs, surrounded by a sea of adults and children.
“Perhaps he has,” said Cilla.
“People can change,” Drake commented. But he would reserve judgement until he saw the evidence for himself.
The man put on a good show the rest of the day.
Pearl, as Marple’s eldest sister, had been acting hostess since they arrived.
She had planned daytime meals that the children could join.
“Mary will not want to be separated from her little ones in a strange house, and if all our children are around, the adults will be on their best behavior,” she had declared at dinner last night.
So perhaps that was it. Perhaps Marple could keep up the show for the rest of the day. What about after the younger children had been sent off to bed and the older ones back up to the schoolroom?
The time came. The nursemaids appeared, the Marple’s nurse with them, and the little ones went off to their nursery tea.
The governesses, too, arrived to conduct the older children to their tea, though Alfie suggested that, at nine years of age, he and Gareth should really be counted as adults.
“Daddy,” he said to Drake, “I am, after all, your little man.”
“A good try,” Drake told him. “Give it another six years, my boy.”
“With family, and only if you behave,” Cilla added.
“Daddy,” Alfie complained. “Cousin Jasper said he would tell us about hunting tigers from elephant back.”
“If your father permits, Alfie, I’ll come up to your room after the adults have had dinner to give you and Gareth that story,” said the scoundrel, which put Drake in a difficult position, for he would be the villain if he said no.
“Please, Daddy,” Alfie pleaded.
“If your Cousin Jasper doesn’t mind,” said Drake.