Epilogue
April
Four months was the longest Jasper was willing to wait to make Hetty Davenport his wife.
He very nearly swayed her toward a Christmas wedding. But Hetty, having become somewhat averse to scandal, insisted on a prolonged engagement, lest anyone think she had forced him into it.
When he woke on the morning of their wedding to the jubilant sound of songbirds, and walked the path of bluebells and primrose that blanketed the earth, the sun dappling the forest floor, he could almost admit it had been worth waiting for.
Almost.
What had distinctly not been worth the hardship was Hetty’s moving out of Mulgrave Hall the day he brought her back to it.
I cannot live in the same house as my fiancé, Jasper. It isn’t proper.
So she took residence in Edgar’s country home, living quite amiably with Lady Louisa, and visiting Mulgrave Hall as often as she could. If Jasper was distressed about the arrangement, it paled in comparison to how Viola felt about it.
Couldn’t you simply not get married? Then she could live here without scandal.
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that nothing could be more scandalous. And besides, he wanted Hetty as his wife . Nothing less would do.
And so he had waited. Stretched the limits of his patience and sanity both. Took up pugilism once more. Watched Mr. Darcy grow into an orange menace. Aided with the lambing at the Hamilton farm. Hired farmhands so that Charlie Smithfield’s mother could cease working in the fields. Helped to rebuild the Turners’ barn, lost to fire.
The months had been busy and while he thought the work of a good earl was never done, he felt at least somewhat entitled to a break. A wedding did not strike him as a particularly relaxing event, but Jasper’s whole being rested the moment he saw his wife-to-be walking toward him down the grassy aisle, a vision in white silk and delicately embroidered lace. At last, he was completely content.
Their guests were joyous, the occasion euphoric, the food sublime, but the best part of Jasper’s day was sitting with his new wife and family at the end of the night, sharing in happiness—something he had deemed impossible to consider only a few months before.
“I can’t quite believe we pulled it off,” remarked Isobel between sips of scotch from a teacup.
“I can’t quite believe that the Ton has accepted me as Hetty after meeting me as Jane,” said his wife from the settee where Viola dozed happily, her head in Hetty’s lap.
“Yes, well, I’m told we have Aunt Adelaide to thank for that,” replied Isobel, offering their aunt an approving salute. As a special treat, Aunt Adelaide did not chide her for the overly common gesture.
“And besides,” began August, “what were they going to do, go against the Earl of Belhaven? The stern bastard wouldn’t allow it. Once they became engaged, the matter was settled.”
“Hetty never actually agreed to marry me, you know.”
Freddie laughed. “I think it’s rather late for her to back out now.”
“Some things can be said without words,” mused Hetty as Isobel mimed being sick.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Izzie,” Jasper warned.
She turned her nose up at him. “I reside there permanently.”
“I’ve some news,” said Helena, rather loudly so as to command the wavering attention of the Maycotts. “Now that Hetty is settled here, and Mulgrave Hall has a new lady of the house, I shall be returning to my townhouse in Mayfair. There is much in need of doing.” She gave Hetty and Isobel a knowing look. “I’ve been avoiding both my duties and the elder Dowager Duchess of Pembroke long enough, and I’m beginning to worry about Marcus’s brother. He hasn’t answered any of my letters in months.”
The room erupted in voices shouting over each other, some happy about the news (Isobel and Freddie), some rather incensed (Viola). Through the chaos, Jasper’s eyes found Hetty’s.
His Hetty. His wife. His everything.
She had pulled him from the darkness long before he had been willing to feel the light once more. But now he basked in it. In her, for she was his sun.
He looked to the portraits of his parents and Anthony, moved from the gallery to the sitting room so they would always be nearby. Before Hetty, the constant reminder of them would have broken Jasper. He’d once thought that losing them was the end. The end of happiness, the end of joy, the end of life as he knew it.
But now he knew the simple truth that had eluded him: out of an ending, a new beginning is born, if one can find the courage to chase it.
…
Taking Hetty to bed as his wife could not have felt more right.
“Isn’t it odd that I’ve never been in your room?” she remarked, trailing her fingers along his bedpost.
“ Our room,” he corrected. “And, if there is anything you dislike about it or wish to change, it will be done.”
“I am not thinking about furniture or linens,” she said, turning to face him. “Not at this time.”
“What are you thinking of, Lady Belhaven?” He would never grow tired of saying that.
She pulled a pin from her hair, letting it tumble down around her shoulders. “Mostly about how difficult it will be to remove my gown. I have no lady’s maid at my disposal.”
“But you do have a most eager husband,” he said, approaching her. “How difficult could a row of buttons be?”
Vexingly difficult, it would seem. Undressing Hetty took him the better part of a half hour as he fumbled with minuscule buttons and mysterious hooks, his wife entirely entertained by his middling efforts. When his task was at last complete, Hetty let the gown fall to the floor, standing before him in only the most sinful-looking drawers.
“I don’t think I’ll be hiring you, my lord,” she teased.
“Surely there are other positions I’m still under consideration for, my lady,” he replied before scooping her into his arms and sinking into the bed. She giggled into his neck as he covered every inch of her with kisses, but suddenly she went still, quiet. He paused at once.
“What is it, my love?”
She pressed her hands to her face. “What if I’m a terrible countess?”
Hetty had not been raised to one day become the lady of a great house. Nor had she been primed for entrance into polite Society. It was why he loved her so. But he could not dismiss her insecurity in so blasé a manner. What good was his devotion if she did not feel comfortable in her own home?
“The simple fact that you’re concerned tells me you’ll be a great one.” He rolled over to lie beside her, propping his head up with his arm. “Hetty, you are the bravest woman I know. You have risen to every challenge set against you. I have no doubt that you’ll rise to this one, too, and make it your own.”
She squeezed his hand. “I only wish the people we lost could be with us now.”
“They live on in us, of that I am certain.” Jasper no longer flinched away from memory or pain. When Viola brought up their mother, he happily recalled stories. When Freddie asked questions about their father, he was careful to answer truthfully. And when grief caught up with him, he allowed himself to feel it, but not be ruled by it.
“I dreamed of my father last night, actually,” Hetty continued. “He spoke to me. It was the clearest I’ve ever seen him. I can still hear his voice in my head, it didn’t fade when I awoke like it has before.”
“A memory?” he asked.
“No, not quite. It was almost what I imagine he would have said to me if he hadn’t died. It was a gift, to have a conversation with him on the night before my wedding, even if it wasn’t real. I know that one day he will be restored to me in full.” She wrapped her arms tighter around him. “I simply need to be patient.”
Jasper knew from experience that Hetty’s healing would not be linear. Some days were better than others, some memories more potent than the ones before. He would help her through her healing, as she had his. Whatever it took. In his mind, the actions of her aunt and cousin required retribution, but Hetty had insisted there be no legal recourse against them, and Jasper had respected her wishes, despite the fact that he was quite certain he would beat Claremont to a pulp if their paths ever crossed. He doubted they would, as the last he had heard from Simon Griffith was that the baron had decamped for the Continent, hoping to leave his debts and his troubles behind in England.
Pity for him that the future Duke of Radcliffe always collected.
“I’ve decided what I wish to do with Sutton House.” Hetty had left it empty since they rode away from it two days after the Banfield ball. She had arranged for the footman, Jack, and the recently dismissed kitchen maid, Mary, to work at Mulgrave Hall, and had overseen the retrieval of all her father’s paintings and their personal effects, but otherwise she wanted nothing to do with the house she was entitled to. Jasper had suggested selling it, but Hetty had wanted to think on it. To make a plan, as she had always done. “I’d like to make it a refuge for vulnerable women. A place they can escape to when they lose their protection in Society. They can come there and feel safe and supported, and perhaps learn new skills to make them employable. I’ll have to do much planning, but I think it could work.”
“So this is what you and my sisters have been plotting for months?” he asked, relieved to have his curiosity satisfied at last. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”
Hetty nodded. “And I’d like to advocate for women committed against their wills to asylums, bound there only by the testimony of their wicked husbands or cruel fathers. There needs to be a place for women to retreat to when they have no other options.”
“Annabelle often said as much, of the women she encountered. It would have been her life’s work, helping them.”
Hetty smiled and took his hand. “Isobel has told me much about her efforts. Perhaps we could even call it Annabelle House, in her honor.”
She said it mildly, as though willing to abandon the thought at a moment’s notice. But Jasper had come a long way from the man he used to be, the one who dared not utter Annabelle’s name. He knew at once that Hetty’s suggestion would be the most fitting tribute to her, a way for her name to live on as a beacon for the women she had advocated tirelessly for.
“I can think of nothing better,” he replied, his voice slightly weighed down with emotion.
She squeezed his hand a bit tighter. “And I’ve already enlisted the help of your sisters. When Helena returns to Mayfair, she will use her extensive Society connections to elicit donations, as I imagine the running of a women’s refuge will require a great deal of capital, and Isobel, Louisa, and Lady Lydia Coventry are already bursting with ideas for different services we can offer to these women. I also discovered that Lydia is a part of a committee that works with like-minded members of Parliament to put forth private members’ bills that promote women’s rights. They are almost universally defeated in the House of Lords, but incremental progress is better than no progress at all.”
“You know, my seat in the House of Lords has been gathering dust for long enough. Perhaps I can be of use in that regard.”
She practically dove atop him, pressing an enthusiastic kiss to his lips. “Have I told you how much I adore you?”
“Yes, but I shall never tire of hearing it.”
She grinned and settled into the crook of his arm before jumping up again. “Oh and Lady Adelaide!”
“Oh no,” Jasper began, fearing the worst.
“You mistake me.” Hetty laughed. “Lady Adelaide wishes to be most involved in our charitable venture.”
“You’d be hard pressed to find a more suitable patroness. Though I should hope her capable of softening her edges. God knows these women will have been through enough without having to contend with her sharpness.”
“ Mmm ,” she replied, burrowing once more into the crook of his arm. “Too true, not all of them can rely on being rescued by a dashing earl.”
“You rescued yourself, love,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I was merely an accessory.”
She looked up at him, pressed her hand to the steady beating of his heart. “Rescue me again, Jasper.”
He was happy to oblige.
The love doesn’t end here…