The Fur Trader’s Lady (Ladies of the Wilderness #1)

Epilogue

England, May 1804

T he moment Blissfield Manor came into view, Charlotte’s heart began to pound. Reid sat beside her in the coach, holding her hand.

Sunlight glinted off the gray exterior, making the large home appear to glow. It had never looked more beautiful or more welcoming than it did at that moment.

“We’re almost there,” Charlotte said to her husband and her mother-in-law, who sat across from them.

Reid’s mother had been overjoyed when they’d arrived at her home almost a year to the day after they had left. She had not expected to see Reid for two more years, and when he told her that he and Charlotte had been married and they were planning to take her to England, she had become like a young woman again. Her health had improved so drastically she almost bounced when she walked. Just like Reid and Charlotte, Mother McCoy was ready to start afresh, and England would be the perfect place.

Before traveling to Blissfield Manor, they had stopped at the North West Company’s London office, where Reid had presented a letter of recommendation from Simon McTavish. Not only had Reid become a shareholder in the company, but he would now work for the company from England. After they settled things at Blissfield Manor, they would return to London to secure a townhome. It would be a far cry from his years in the northwestern wilderness, but he was excited for a new challenge, and Charlotte was eager to live in the city. They would keep Blissfield Manor for summers and holidays.

The child within Charlotte’s womb leapt and she put her hand on the swollen rise. A foot or elbow pushed against her, and she smiled. Did the baby know they were almost home?

“It’s bonnier than you let on, lass,” Reid said to Charlotte. “I dinna ken it was so grand.”

Her ancestral home spread out before them, nestled among gradually rolling hills and green trees. A long gravel drive welcomed them to turn off the main road, causing Charlotte’s pulse to race faster.

“I hope they received our letter,” Charlotte said.

“I’m certain they did.” Reid’s reassurance made her breathe easier. “But even if they dinna, we will soon set everything to rights.”

Charlotte’s gaze roamed the land of her childhood, and she was suddenly reminded of the night she had fled from Roger, down this very road. She’d been so afraid and uncertain. How wonderful it felt to return with courage and certainty—alongside her husband. And to know Roger would never bother them again.

Soon after their arrival in London, Reid had inquired about Roger and learned that he had set sail for Bombay as a new employee of the British East India Company. With no hope of acquiring Charlotte’s inheritance, and the threat of embarrassment when people learned what he had done, Roger had left England for good.

The front door of Blissfield Manor opened, and an older man and woman appeared. Behind them, a handful of women in black gowns and white aprons and mob caps followed. Along with the women, four men exited in black suits. They formed a line in front of the house, with Mr. and Mrs. Corning at the head of the group of servants.

The coach came to a stop and Mr. Corning, though he wasn’t the butler, stepped forward to open the door.

Reid exited first and then turned to offer his hand to Charlotte. He was no longer in the wilderness, but he looked as natural and confident in the English countryside. When she took his hand, he winked at her and communicated his complete confidence in her with a smile.

It was awkward to maneuver inside the coach with her growing waistline, but she managed and stepped down from the vehicle to greet the shining faces of her old friends, the Cornings.

Mrs. Corning curtsied, and Mr. Corning bowed, but Charlotte refused to stand on formality this one time, and she went forward to embrace them. First, Mr. Corning, and then Mrs. Corning. “I do not know how to thank you,” she said. It was because of them that she had escaped that long-ago night.

“No need,” Mr. Corning said with a stoic face.

“Just a word or two about our boy would suffice,” Mrs. Corning added with a laugh.

“Indeed, you shall hear a great deal about him.” Charlotte’s chest warmed at the love she felt for these people. “He was just as kind and selfless as you. I owe him—and you—a deep debt of gratitude.”

The Cornings blushed but nodded their understanding.

Reid helped his mother step down from the coach, and she took in the manor and the staff with one quick, approving glance.

“Reid,” Charlotte said, “may I present Mr. and Mrs. Corning?”

“’Tis a pleasure to meet you,” he said to them and then introduced his mother.

“And we’d like you to meet your new staff.” Mr. Corning took Charlotte and Reid down the line of servants, and they met each one with a nod and a smile.

“Shall we go inside?” Mrs. Corning asked.

Charlotte took a deep breath as Mr. Corning opened the door.

With one hand wrapped around Reid’s arm and the other resting on her rounded stomach, Charlotte stepped over the threshold, the mistress of her family home.

After the servants scattered to their work, Charlotte took Reid and Mother McCoy on a tour of Blissfield Manor. Though she was tired, she was eager to make them feel comfortable.

She could not show them the entirety of the home in one day, but she could show them her favorite rooms. The north parlor, the music room, the dining room, the ballroom, and the hall of portraits showcasing her ancestors. Finally, when they came to Mother McCoy’s room, Charlotte made sure she had everything she needed, and then she and Reid entered the hall.

“Where is our room?” Reid asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Room?” Charlotte asked innocently. “Don’t you mean rooms , Mr. McCoy?”

He shook his head and took her hand in his. “I mean room—singular. I willna sleep apart from my wife.”

Her cheeks warmed, but she didn’t chastise him. She had no plans to sleep apart either.

“What will the servants think?” she whispered.

“They’ll think their master and mistress are madly in love, and they’ll be right.”

With a smile, she led him to the room her father had used when she was a child. It had a connecting room, which her mother had slept in, and a dressing room between them.

On the way down the hall, the door to her childhood bedroom caught her eye, and she paused.

“What’s wrong?” Reid asked when he saw her face.

Charlotte still held his hand. He squeezed it now, concern etching between his eyebrows.

“My room,” she said.

“Would you like to see it again?”

Memories from the night she had fled Blissfield Manor washed over her, and she shook her head. “No.” She smiled at him. “I have no wish to look back. Only forward.”

One day, she would return to the room to retrieve her old drawings, but that day could wait. She had more important things to occupy her mind and heart. The drawings she had made in the northwestern wilderness were being published in a book Reid had written about the fur trade on their journey across the ocean. After stopping at the North West Company office, they had gone to a publisher who had known Charlotte’s father. The book would be released later that summer, and the publisher had already asked the McCoys for a second volume.

Charlotte and Reid continued walking, and eventually she took him into their new bedroom, which had been prepared by the servants for their arrival. A large bed dominated the room, and floor-to-ceiling windows lined one wall, allowing the bright sunshine to fill the room with light.

Reid reached behind Charlotte and pushed the door closed, giving them the privacy they craved.

“Welcome home, Lady Charlotte.” Reid took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

“No.” She placed her other hand on his and stood as close to him as she could with the baby between them. “My name is Mrs. Reid McCoy.”

He encircled one of her curls around his finger, love and joy in his eyes. “Thank you for inviting me to live this life with you, lass. I couldna be happier.”

“Neither could I,” she said as she entered his arms.

Once again, Blissfield Manor had become a sanctuary—for her and her growing family.