Epilogue
Wigton House
Cumbria
Year of Our Lord 1362
Children were running everywhere.
Darien could hear them overhead, running down the stairs, screaming at each other, calling for their mother, and any number of noises, bumps, and bangs. He could also hear Eventide’s calm voice, answering questions, encouraging the children to get a move on.
It was pandemonium in Lord Lowmoor’s household.
Wigton House was an enormous, gray-stoned building that had been part of Mabel’s family for more than two hundred years. It had survived Scots attacks and, being so close to the Solway Firth, even pirate attacks. It wasn’t a castle but a fortified manse, with thirty rooms, three levels, all of it enclosed within a massive curtain wall. When Darien inherited Wigton, it had come with the remnants of the de Waverton army, so he had about three hundred Englishmen under his command.
That had taken some getting used to.
But today was a special day for the inhabitants of Wigton. Darien’s brother, Lucan, was marrying a lass from Berwick and the entire dun Tarh family, including everyone from the Hydra and Aurelius’ family from Lydgate Castle in Yorkshire, would be in attendance. There were about fifty family members converging on Berwick, where Lucan was marrying a Pembury daughter. An English bride.
But that was a story in and of itself.
“Evie?” Darien shouted as he stood in the open door of the manse, looking at the escort beyond. “Evie, my love? If we dunna leave now, then we’re going tae be late and ye know what my mother will do tae us if we are. Evie?”
He heard a muffled reply from an upper floor and, very quickly, his two eldest sons appeared. Aristeo dun Tarh, or Téo as he was called by the family, was the eldest at eleven years of age. But he was going through a growth spurt and had already surpassed his mother in height. He had his father’s dark hair without the white streak, his mother’s bright blue eyes, and was an intelligent and lively lad. He was also following the dun Tarh tradition that the eldest son in the family foster in England and learn English ways, so he had spent the past two years at Carlisle Castle and was home for a brief time before he moved to Northwood Castle, which sat on the Scots border with England.
Beside Aristeo was his younger brother by two years, Cortez, who couldn’t have looked more like Lares if he tried. Dark haired and dark eyed, Cortez was as tall as Aristeo and possessed a big build. While Aristeo was more of an introverted intellectual, Cortez was the natural leader. The lad knew how to get things done. He was heading to Northwood, too, because Darien wanted his boys well educated but also wanted to keep them together.
Even if keeping them together meant keeping them in England.
“Mother has the girls, Da,” Cortez said. “I’ve told Mateo if he’s not down tae the escort in the next minute that I’m going tae carry him outside myself.”
Darien grinned because he knew Cortez would most certainly do that. “Give Matty a little more than a minute, lad,” he said. “He’s younger than ye are and ye know that he doesna move as fast. But where are your mother and sisters?”
“Here,” Eventide said as she came down the stairs with three red-haired daughters and bags in her hands. “Help me, please.”
Darien, Aristeo, and Cortez rushed to help her, but little Sofia, the youngest dun Tarh child, thought her father was reaching for her, so she whined for him and held up her arms. Darien took a satchel in one hand and his toddler in the other, carrying them both outside to the waiting carriage. Six-year-old Adelina and four-year-old Juliana, very much mirror images of their beauteous mother, were escorted outside by their bag-carrying brothers. That left Mateo.
Eventide, realizing she’d left a child behind, went back up the stairs and down a corridor that led to the children’s nursery. This was where they slept and played and learned from a tutor who lived in a small house on the grounds. She found Mateo, her eight-year-old, sitting at a small table. The boy was just staring at the tabletop, unmoving.
“Matty?” she said curiously. “What are ye doing, my love?”
Mateo dun Tarh looked at his mother reluctantly. Also dark haired and dark eyed, he had been born prematurely and was small for his age. His eyesight was also poor as a result of his early birth, and Mateo had a challenging time keeping up with his siblings sometimes. But Darien and Eventide had never treated him any differently because of his shortcomings. They had the same expectations with him that they had with all of their children, only Mateo sometimes just needed a little more patience.
Deep down, Eventide had a soft spot for her sweet little boy.
“Well?” she said. “Everyone is waiting for ye downstairs. Why are ye sitting here?”
He frowned and looked away. “Cortez said I was boil-brained,” he said glumly. “He told me tae put my shoes on, and I broke a strap. Now I cannot tie them.”
Eventide, who was clad in a magnificent yellow brocade as befitting her position as Lady Lowmoor, knelt down beside her son in all of her finery.
“Let me see it,” she said, and the lad held up the shoe. She took it, inspecting it. “Is this all? ’Tis not a terrible thing. We can fix it, but we must get going. Do ye not want tae see Avia and Papa?”
She was referring to Mabel and Lares by what the grandchildren called them. But Mateo was sad and didn’t seem too eager to move.
“Am I boil-brained, Mama?” he asked. “I did not mean tae break the strap.”
Before Eventide could answer, Darien appeared in the doorway, a look of exasperation on his face.
“What is taking so long?” he asked. “Matty, we must go, lad. Come with yer mother now.”
Eventide stood up, holding up Mateo’s broken shoe. “Cortez told Matty that he was boil-brained,” she said with a hint of hazard in her tone. “Matty broke a strap putting on his shoe and now he’s upset about it. He thinks that he’s… Well, Cortez calling him boil-brained dinna help.”
Darien cocked an eyebrow. Coming into the chamber, he took the shoe from his wife. “I willna stand in yer way if ye want tae tell Cortez just what ye think of his name calling,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’ll fix the shoe and bring Matty.”
Eventide’s eyes narrowed. Cortez was in for a verbal beating. She blew a kiss to Mateo before leaving the chamber as Darien inspected the shoe.
“Well, now,” he said, kneeling down in front of the small boy in all of his mail and protection. With the traveling they would be doing, it was required that he be prepared to protect his family. “Let me see yer foot. Let’s see if we can make the shoe fit for now.”
Mateo was seated, but he turned to face his father. He had skinny legs and was knock-kneed, which didn’t help him walk very well. Usually, Aristeo and Cortez were extremely protective of him and had been known to throw punches if anyone dared insult Mateo. But sometimes, Cortez forgot himself. He was impatient and bossy and, at times, cruel. Aristeo and Cortez had been known to get into scuffles over the way Cortez spoke to Mateo sometimes because Aristeo wouldn’t even let Cortez speak unkindly to the boy. But it happened.
Like now.
Darien picked up a little foot, covered with hose, and slid the shoe on. “Matty,” he said as he fussed with the broken strap, “I’m going tae tell ye something and ye must swear tae me that ye’ll keep it a secret. Can ye do that?”
Mateo nodded solemnly. “Aye, Papa.”
Darien didn’t look up from the shoe as he spoke. “Every family has someone special, someone that will go on tae do the very greatest things,” he said. “In my family, it was me. In Papa’s family, it was him. Yer grandfather is the Earl of Torridon, a very great man, and me… ye know I serve the people of Scotland.”
“As the Lord Keeper of the Council.”
“Aye,” Darien said, giving his boy a smile. “That means I am the great one out of all of my brothers. Or, at least, I’ve done well. Every family has that one great brother.”
“Who is our great brother, Papa?”
“Ye are.”
Mateo’s eyes widened. “Me?”
Darien nodded. “ Ye, ” he confirmed. “Téo and Cortez know it, so if Cortez seems unkind sometimes, ye’re not tae pay him any mind, because he knows ye’re going tae be the greatest brother someday. But ye mustn’t let him know that ye know. He thinks ye dunna, so sometimes, he’s going tae say unkind things. But he doesna mean them.”
“He doesn’t?”
“Nay.”
“Then why does he say them?”
“Tae prepare ye for what is tae come,” Darien said. He managed to secure the shoe in spite of the broken strap. “Matty, not everyone is going tae be kind tae ye as ye grow up. They may think ye small or even weak, but we know ye’re not. Cortez is helping ye prepare for those who are unkind, so ye’ll not take their insults tae heart. We know ye’re going tae grow up tae do great and noble things someday. Ye just need that chance tae grow. Do ye understand me, lad?”
Mateo nodded. “Aye, Papa.”
“What do ye understand, then?”
He thought a moment, looking very much like his father. “That I’ll be better than everyone someday.”
Darien grinned. “Exactly,” he said. “But remember what I told ye—ye’re never tae tell anyone. They wouldna believe ye anyway. But we know the truth.”
“How do you know?”
“Because God told me,” Darien said. “The moment ye were born, we knew ye were special. Someday, everyone else will know, too.”
That explanation seemed to satisfy an eight-year-old. Mateo’s father always had a way of making him feel better. With his shoe fixed for the moment, he stood up and took his father’s hand, walking with his usual limp. They headed down to the entry of Wigton, where a servant who usually tended the children was waiting with Mateo’s little cloak. There had been a chill in the air this spring, so the servant made sure that all of the dun Tarh children were warmly dressed. Darien turned his son over to the servant, who took the boy down to the waiting carriage just as Eventide was heading in his direction. She smiled at Mateo as he walked by, meeting up with her husband just as he closed the entry door.
“Well?” Darien said. “Did ye tell Cortez we dinna appreciate his insults?”
Eventide turned to look at the carriage with the children in it. “I did,” she said. “I told him if he did it again, not only would he feel the sting of my hand tae his backside, but I’d tell Mabel and she’d give him a spanking he’d not soon forget. That seems tae have made an impression on him.”
Darien fought off a grin as he took Eventide’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. “I canna decide if it is hilarious or sad that my mother is known for her spankings,” he said as he and Eventide headed toward the carriage. “I’m sure that is not the legacy she hoped for.”
Eventide held on to her husband’s elbow proudly. “Dunna fool yerself,” she said. “Yer mother is quite proud of that reputation. I seem tae remember my sister learning that the hard way.”
Darien couldn’t help but grin as he remembered the spanking Emelia Cannich had taken those years ago in front of everyone. “I wonder if she ever recovered from that?” he muttered.
“I dunna know,” Eventide said. “My da never mentioned her again tae the day he died, and I dunna speak with my mother or my sister, so who knows how they have fared.”
“Ye never think of Emelia?”
“Nay. Should I?”
“Probably not,” he said “But I could tell ye what I heard last month when I was in Edinburgh—from someone who knows Reelig Cannich.”
“Is he still alive?”
“Evidently,” Darien said. “Do ye want tae know what I was told?”
Eventide didn’t say anything for a moment. They were on a touchy subject, if not a downright forbidden one. She hadn’t spoken to her mother or sister in twelve years, ever since leaving Blackrock, and Darien rarely brought it up. It wasn’t that she was bitter about her family—it was simply that she’d chosen to eliminate them from all thought. They were nearly to the carriage when she came to a halt and faced him.
“Nay,” she finally said. “I dunna think I want tae hear about her. I dunna want mention of her entering our world. We have such a wonderful world, Darien. She’s not part of it and she never will be. Why would I care anything about her?”
He smiled, touching her face gently. “I just thought I’d ask,” he said. “I know how ye feel about her, but there may be a time when ye change yer mind. That’s why I asked.”
She smiled in return. “I willna change my mind,” she said. “When my da died, my last connection tae that life died with him. I’ll not go back, not even tae hear about my sister twelve years later.”
“As ye wish, Lady Lowmoor.”
“Will ye just tell me one thing?”
“Of course.”
“Is she dead?”
“Nay.”
“Then that’s all I want tae know,” she said. “The rest… it matters not.”
With that, she gently patted his cheek and went on to the carriage, where she could hear raised voices. The children were starting to get restless. Aristeo and Cortez, however, were permitted to ride with their father and were already astride their big, sturdy ponies, waiting patiently. Darien helped his wife into the carriage, watching her pull the toddler onto her lap as Mateo snuggled up beside her.
His Evie.
He couldn’t imagine his life without her.
As Darien made his way to the front of the escort, where a groom held his big, dappled steed, he couldn’t help but be grateful for this moment. His life could have been so different. Instead of being married to a woman he loved more than life itself, he could have been married to a liar and a cheat. He could have had children that might have possibly not been his own. There wasn’t a day that went by that he wasn’t grateful for what he had, because he knew how differently life could have been for him.
But he’d been saved by a man who had wronged him.
A man, he’d heard, who was living the life that might have been Darien’s. A man who had evidently pissed away his portion of the dowry he’d been given, and Moy was so run-down that Emelia had to find work as a servant at nearby Brodie Castle because the family had no money. Four children, he’d been told, and rumor had it that only one belonged to Luke, which was exactly what Darien had feared those years ago.
As it turned out, his instincts had been correct.
But Eventide didn’t want to know about her sister’s life, and he wouldn’t tell her. That was a little secret he would keep, unsympathetic to Luke and Emelia’s situation. At least Luke had done the right thing at the end, but Emelia never learned right from wrong. The woman’s moral compass wasn’t merely broken—it had never worked correctly to begin with. Still, Darien had a small amount of compassion for her husband because, as he’d told the man once, Luke had literally saved his life—twice.
Darien would never forget that.
But he’d more than repaid that debt.
Repaid it in the form of a castle he hadn’t kept and a dowry he’d shared. The truth was that Emelia’s dowry had belonged to him, and he could have easily put up a fight when Fergus wanted to split it, but he hadn’t. He’d been generous because he knew that Luke was going to need that generosity. A bad decision, an impulse he should have ignored, had cost Luke everything, and Darien had done what he could to at least give the man some compensation.
But he still thanked God, every day, that Luke’s bad decision had given him a perfect life.
Perfect for him, anyway. As Darien mounted his steed and began to move the escort out of Wigton’s bailey under the black bull standards of Lord Lowmoor, they passed by the entry and its great stone facing. At the very top was a big corbel in the shape of a rose, and at the top of the rose he’d had stonemasons carve out what had come to mean a great deal to both him and Eventide.
Airson a h-uile àm.
For all time.
For all time, he would love her and she would love him. For all time, their love story would be as legendary as the one his parents had. For all time, their names would be written for generations to see on the doorway of Wigton.
L and E
Airson a h-uile àm.
Because their love, and their legacy, were the stuff dreams were made of.
* THE END *