Epilogue
SIX YEARS LATER
Caroline narrowed her eyes and surveyed the drawing room.
It had been redone last year, with her mother-in-law’s blessing of course, in a pale forget-me-not blue with ivory curtains.
The chairs were upholstered in a similar blue, the settee in a darker shade, and the Aubusson carpet brought all the colors together, with golden yellow and dusty pink.
It was a haven for Caroline, her favorite place to read…or to hunt for small children.
“If we are going to have time to walk through the park, we really ought to be tying our bonnets on now.” Caroline sang the words, searching the room for two pairs of small feet hiding behind curtains or bundled beneath chairs. She had heard her daughters enter this room, so she knew she was close.
“In fact, Papa will not be able to walk with us at all unless we leave right now.”
“No!” a muffled little voice shouted. “I want Papa to walk with us.”
Caroline spun to face the opposite direction. Ah! Just there, tucked behind the door, she could see movement. She crept toward them. “He will need to leave soon for the park if he is to return in time for his meeting.”
“Meeting!” the little voice said in outrage. Five-year-old Anna never liked anything that took her papa from the house.
“Yes.” Caroline was nearly there. “He must meet Uncle James and Harry Plumstead before dinner.”
There was quiet whispering between the girls, supplying Caroline enough time to swing the door away from the wall, her arms out, ready to tickle.
“Found you!” she called, diving for her girls and tickling them with one hand each. A peal of giggles erupted from the corner of the room, echoing from the wall and filling the room.
“No, Mama!” Charlotte called. At three years old, her small voice was so sweet and pure. “All finished!”
“You want me to be finished?” Caroline asked, sitting back on her heels and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “But you have been found and must pay the forfeit!”
She dove for them again as two strong arms came around her and lifted her from the floor.
“I will save you girls,” Tristan called, swinging Caroline from their grasp and knocking the wind from her.
She fought a smile, pushing at his arms. He started for her side, tickling her softly until she could not cease laughing.
She turned to face him, breaking contact long enough to make him stop in the only way that worked for her without fail. She kissed him.
Tristan’s arm came around her, pulling her tightly against him, and he kissed her back.
“No, Mummy!” Anna said. “None of that. We must leave for the park now.”
Tristan grinned down at her, leaving another long kiss on her lips before releasing her. He faced his daughters. “Who permitted you to go to the park?”
They giggled. “Mama, of course.”
“Oh, of course,” he agreed. “She is the leader of us all. Shall we march in a line, then?”
“A line!” Anna called. “I want to march in a line!”
“Then fetch your bonnets, darlings,” Caroline said. The girls ran from the room, the patter of their small feet echoing through the corridor and up the stairs. Once they were gone, Caroline faced her husband. “A line? You are absurd.”
He shrugged.
She let out a sigh. “What do you think this meeting could be about?”
Some of the levity fell from his face. “I haven’t the faintest notion. It has been a few hard years in Manchester, and I fear he is going to tell us the investment is finally done in.”
“You’ve seen some money from it,” she reminded him.
“Yes, but not much. Certainly not what we hoped for.”
Caroline worried her lip. “It’s no matter. We get on just fine as we are. Perhaps we ought to extend our summer visits to Surrey. Close up this house for another month every year.”
“It’s an option.” He tucked the wayward lock of hair behind her ear again. “We needn’t worry now. Not until we learn what Harry needs to say to us. In the meantime…”
He moved to kiss her again when Anna and Charlotte squealed from the doorway. “We have our bonnets!”
Tristan chuckled, the low sound vibrating his chest. Caroline smiled up at him. “To the park we shall march.”
“Indeed, my love.”
Tristan climbed into James’s carriage and tapped the ceiling, informing the driver they were ready to leave.
“Did Harry give you any indication why he’s asked for this meeting?
” James asked. He wore a heavy black coat over his clothes, his white cravat gathered at his throat.
His blond curls had darkened over the last few years, now that he did not spend his time outside or on a ship, and his skin had paled to its average color.
He resembled his sister far more now than he had when he returned from Antigua, though they had different coloring.
Tristan shook his head. “All I received was a short note requesting I come in today. Surely it is not good news, or he would have written about it. He has written about good news in the past.”
James flattened his lips. “I had a similar thought.”
They pulled in front of the imposing building on Threadneedle Street and filed out of the carriage. Cool spring air nipped against his neck as they made their way into Harry’s office. The secretary seated at the desk stood upon their entrance.
“We’ve an appointment with Harry Plumstead,” Tristan said.
“If you’ll wait a moment.” The secretary yanked down his brown waistcoat as he circled the desk toward Harry’s office. He returned soon after. “He will see you now.”
James shot Tristan a raised eyebrow look, then preceded him into the office.
Harry looked well, his dark hair was trimmed short and side whiskers beginning to show signs of gray. He reached forward to shake their hands. “It is always good to see you both. Please, be seated.”
Tristan took one of the ladder-back chairs and considered Harry’s demeanor. He certainly did not look as though he was preparing to deliver bad news. Though that was part of his job, so he was certainly practiced at it.
The secretary closed the door as he left.
Harry folded his hands on the desk. “I’ve had word from the overseer, and it would appear you are both set to make a tidy profit this year.”
Tristan relaxed into his chair. He was not hurting for money, of course.
But it was beginning to be obvious that his parents were in very good health—a thing he was ever grateful for—and it was possible they would continue in good health all throughout his daughters’ lives, even into their Seasons, and the cost of a presentation dress alone would do him in.
“In fact,” Harry said, setting a piece of paper on the desk and turning it to face them. “It is doing quite well.”
The men leaned forward together and absorbed the figures mentioned on the page.
“We must split that number?” James asked. They had split the investment, so it was only logical.
Harry’s smile grew. “No. That is the number you shall each receive…this quarter.”
Tristan drew in a sharp breath. “You are funning with us.”
“I never jest about business, Mr. Shepherd.”
“Tristan,” he reminded him, though he had done so many times in the past to no avail.
Harry smiled. “I thought you would want to know straight away. I have cheques for you now, and next quarter, they imagine it will be much the same.”
Tristan and James shared a look. If the income continued in this fashion, they would be independently wealthy.
Tristan could purchase a house in Surrey near his family, so they could be closer to their parents, and the girls could live near their cousins for the entire year, not just the few months of the Season when they came to London.
“Thank you, Harry,” he said, unable to dampen his grin.
He could not wait to go home and tell Caroline.
The dinner was a small affair—family only. It was the beginning of the London Season, and not everyone had arrived in Town, but James and Kitty often came early to see Caroline and Tristan.
Caroline finished walking through the dining room to ensure everything was in order. She smelled the madeira Miller had left open to air, then stood back, satisfied everything was in order.
“You are still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” Tristan said from the doorway.
Caroline blushed. Her dark red dinner gown was elegant and made her skin look warm.
She knew the color and Lottie’s skill with her hair were both to thank.
Lottie’s sister, Sarah, had proven herself to be an expert with a needle, and she had reworked this gown three times already, but no one would ever be able to tell.
Bringing Sarah over to her married house had been one of Caroline’s better ideas.
Candles flickered on the table and in the sconces on the walls. The fire was built up at the other end of the room, giving them plenty of light.
Tristan’s hastily tied neckcloth needed straightening, so when he stood close enough, Caroline set about the task. “What is it?” she asked, fixing his cravat. “You mustn’t leave me in suspense.”
His smile set her worries to rest.
“As it turns out, the mill has become rather profitable. We are set to receive a large sum this quarter, and they expect that to continue for the foreseeable future.”
She sucked in a breath. “Oh, Tristan, that is wonderful.”
“Indeed. It had me thinking about our summers in Surrey. How would you feel about finding a house near Dorking?”
“I do love London, though,” she hedged.
“As do I, but I think it would be nice to live near Charles and Marie, and James and Kitty. Besides, the girls would appreciate seeing all their cousins more.”
“I had not thought of that. To live near Marie and Kitty always? That would be splendid.”
“We could return for the Season every year.”
She slid her hands up the lapels of his jacket. “I like this plan very much.”
“It is settled, then. When we go to Dorking for the summer, we can see about a house of our own.”
Caroline looked up at her husband with appreciation. “I love you, Tristan.”
“Not nearly as much as I love you.”