Epilogue
EPILOGUE
T wo years later, near the River Isis, Oxfordshire
Under a cloudy summer sky, Diana pitched a shovel full of rich soil onto a pile she had started earlier that morning. Even before she watched it cascade down the slope of dirt, she knew it contained something metallic. She had heard the telltale sound of metal-on-metal when she plunged the shovel into her growing hole.
Dropping to kneel next to the pile of dirt, she reached out and plucked the coin from where it was sliding down.
“Another one?” Randy asked from where he was lounging against a grass-covered mound, a white-garbed bundle resting on his chest. He held an open letter in one hand, the masculine scrawl barely legible.
Diana glanced up, a grin lightening her face. “Another aureus,” she said proudly. She tossed it to him, and he dropped the letter to catch it in one hand.
He chuckled, which sent the bundle on his chest to bobbing up and down. Securing it with his free arm, he turned his attention to the gold Roman coin, examining it with a critical eye. “This is exactly like the others,” he said, adding it to the stack of gold he had started next to his shoulder.
“Have you been able to interpret my brother’s poor penmanship?” she asked, referring to the letter he held.
“Barely. He and Jane are enjoying their life in London. Seems we have a new niece. They named her Marianne.” He paused to note how Diana lifted an approving brow before he continued reading. “Her older brother Michael is apparently not pleased to have a contender for his mother’s attentions, however,” he added.
Diana inhaled softly. “Mother will be so glad to hear it,” she said. “But two babies already?” she said with worry.
“Jane did say she wanted to have lots of babes,” he reminded her.
She lifted another shovelful of dirt and cast it onto the growing pile. This time, two coins, shinier than the gold coins she had already unearthed, reflected the sun’s light. “Silver?” she said in confusion.
“Silver?” he repeated. “A denarius?”
He watched as she studied the impressions on both sides of the silver discs. “They both are,” she murmured.
“You’re going to be the richest woman in all of England,” he said. He glanced down at his son. “Did you hear that? You’re mother is going to be rich. And I think she still has her dowry, unless she has been secretly spending it in Bampton. Although I cannot think there is that much for her to buy there.”
Although Jasper Henley had offered to give Randy her dowry the same day they were married by the mayor of Athens, Randy had insisted he give it to Diana. “She is my wife. Not my property,” he had said back then.
Diana laughed. “You’re being ridiculous,” she admonished him. “I put it into a savings bank in Oxford,” she reminded him. She rose to lean against the handle of the shovel, her buff breeches stained at the knees and her forehead displaying a streak of dirt from where she had rubbed the back of a glove across it. “And these belong in a museum,” she countered, waving to the gold and silver coins.
He furrowed his brows and inhaled deeply, which nearly sent his four-mouth-old son rolling off his chest. He quickly captured the babe and held it above his body. “Should we build your mother a museum?” he asked, his face screwing into a frown when he realized the babe was still asleep. “The Gisborn Museum of Roman Gold Coins?—”
“I expect to find more than just coins here,” she argued.
“The Gisborn Museum of Ancient Roman Artifacts,” he amended. “Father might allow us to build one somewhere ’round here,” he said. “George could help if we built it after the harvest,” he added, referring to his youngest brother. “The Cavendish boys would probably help as well.”
He brought the babe back down to his chest and continued to think out loud. “We built mother’s orangery in a month,” he claimed, “We could certainly build a museum in two or three months.” Angling his head to one side, he scoffed when he saw his son was still sound asleep. “How are you sleeping through all this excitement?”
Attempting to suppress a giggle, Diana lifted a gloved hand to hide her mouth. “Careful, that’s your heir, and he’s about to land on his head,” she warned.
“I’ve got him,” he assured her. He moved the babe to rest in the crook of his arm. “He’s rather heavy,” he remarked.
“I’m aware,” she said, continuing to widen the hole by removing another shovelful of dirt. This time, a number of coins appeared, and she gasped. “Uh...” She stepped back from the edge of the hole.
Randy sat up. “What is it?” He placed the babe on the grass next to him before he scrambled to his feet to join her. He stared down into the wide depression she had created, his eyes rounding in shock.
A cache of gold coins could be seen at the bottom of the hole, appearing as if they had been inside of a container that had long ago disintegrated.
“I think I may have broken the sack they were in,” she said in awe. She glanced back at the pile of dirt, as if searching for remnants of fabric or leather.
“Have you ever found this many at one time before?” he asked in awe.
She shook her head. “I’ve never found any coins before today,” she replied.
He straightened and regarded her with surprise. “Well, then congratulations are in order, my love.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Should you wish to celebrate, Mr. Saturday will be at your beck and call this evening.”
Scoffing, she sighed and noticed their son was awake. “You say that as if he isn’t always,” she teased. She lifted one of the coins from the hole and slid it into her pocket. When she noticed his raised brow, she said, “I’m going to show your father what I’ve discovered on his land.”
“The Gisborn lands are entailed, so they’re not really his,” Randy reminded her. For the first time that day, he sobered and considered the repercussions of her find. “Which means, the idea of a museum is probably best.”
“You did hire me to be the Gisborn archaeologist,” she reminded him.
He grinned, not about to argue with anything she remembered. “We’ll build a museum,” he stated. He picked up the boy from the ground when he noticed she seemed ready to head back to the house. “Are you already abandoning your dig site?”
“I’ll return in an hour or so,” she replied. “But your son is about to realize it’s his feeding time and he no doubt needs his nappy changed. Besides, you know how your mother worries if she hasn’t had him in her company for more than a couple of hours.”
Chuckling softly, Randy said, “She is a rather attentive grandmother. I hope you don’t find her…. overbearing.”
“Your mother is a dear. She rarely allows the nurse to take him,” she commented. “And your father… well, I never would have expected to discover an earl on the floor of the nursery playing with a babe,” she claimed as she displayed a brilliant smile.
“He wanted to be sure the toy he invented for him would entertain him,” Randy said, referring to a contraption that featured a winding key and wheels. The small cart had their son screeching in delight when it darted out the door and into the corridor, sending a housemaid scurrying for cover.
They walked in the direction of Gisborn Hall in silence for some time before Randy announced he was hungry.
“That’s because someone forgot to bring the picnic basket.”
Randy displayed an expression of contrition. “That damned Mr. Saturday… he forgets as much as his wife remembers,” he murmured.
“And I’ll never let him forget it,” she said as she giggled in delight.