Epilogue 1 #2
Once this question had wound its way through his thoughts long enough, it finally spurred him to action. He left his apartment and made arrangements for a journey to Danroe to speak with the guardian of the current Earl of Danroe.
~~~~~
A day and a half later, Richard’s hired carriage made its way toward the manor house on the earl’s lands.
So far, he had not been particularly impressed.
The nearby town was rather rundown, and the village was practically a ghost town with the majority of the cottages being completely unlivable.
He began to understand why there truly might not have been any money to leave to Lady Priscilla when her husband died.
The manor house wasn’t much better than the town, though it was a far cry from the mess that was the village.
The gardens that were visible were overgrown.
The house itself looked as though it could use a good cleaning, and there were several windows where the glass was broken and needed to be repaired.
Upon arriving at the front door, Richard disembarked and rang the bell. An older housekeeper, who looked as tired and worn out as her apron, answered the bell. He presented his card and asked to speak with the master. She invited him in and showed him to a small, shabby parlor to wait.
He didn’t have to wait long before a man entered. He was a bit round about the belly, but not overly so, and he seemed to be about a decade older than Richard.
Richard rose to greet him. “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said the man.
“I am Mr. Prescott, uncle and guardian to Michael Prescott, the Earl of Danroe. I must say I was surprised to receive your letter this morning, giving me notice of your intent to call. Unfortunately, it was rather devoid of details. So, what brings you so far from London? How can I help you?”
For a moment Richard was stymied. He did not know where to begin. He quickly gathered his thoughts, though, and said, “I would like to propose marriage to Lady Priscilla.”
Before he could continue, Mr. Prescott said, “That lady is her own. I have no rights to give either my permission or my blessing. In fact, I barely even know her.”
“I am aware,” said Richard. “The reason I am here is that she said she would not marry any man unless he could obtain custody of her son. I am here to inquire if that is even possible.”
Mr. Prescott eyed him sharply, and Richard did not know what the man was thinking. He said, “You are aware that taking custody of the boy means taking charge of this estate which is his birthright?”
“I am,” said Richard. “It is why I even hesitated to ask, assuming that you would not wish to give up the income it provides.”
Mr. Prescott suddenly burst out laughing in an almost hysterical way. Richard simply stood there in shock. When the man’s outburst finally came to an end, he said, “There is no income to give up. Not truly. Now, let us sit down and discuss the matter.”
They did discuss it, for nearly an hour. The Danroe estate was in dire straits. Though it should be able to bring in about four thousand pounds per year, in the last year, that total was less than a thousand, and half of that was simply the income from a recent expansion of the home farm.
Mr. Prescott had been investing what he could in the cottages in the village, so things were a bit better than when his brother had died, but not by much. After repairs to the cottages, fields, and house, there was in truth very little to live on.
Richard was shocked that so much decay could happen in just the five years that the previous earl had been in residence, but Mr. Prescott quickly pointed out that the rot had begun with their grandfather and had increased with their father.
No real repairs had been done on any of the cottages in nearly twenty years.
The conversation concluded when Mr. Prescott said, “Now that you know the state of things, you should not be surprised when I tell you that if you want it all, you can have it. Saddling me with this foolish mess was the worst thing my brother ever did to me, and let me tell you, he was not a nice man. I would much rather return to Oxford and take up my research once again. I am not a farmer, which is what this place needs. I am barely a gentleman. Honestly, I think you would be much better for both the estate and young Michael than I ever could be.”
“I do hope you have been treating the earl well despite your discomfort,” said Richard.
Mr. Prescott waved away his concern. “No need to fear on that front. I may not be the most dedicated guardian, and I am certainly no mother, but we eat dinner together every evening, and I have seen to his education as well as I can. I am not affectionate, but very few fathers are, so I feel no guilt on that point. I am certainly not as fond of corporal punishment as my father was.”
“Very well,” said Richard. “If I could get you to write a letter to Lady Priscilla stating that if she marries me, you will hand over custody of her boy, I would be greatly appreciative.”
“Of course,” said Mr. Prescott. “I can do so now. Would you like to stay here for the rest of the day and join us for dinner? I must admit that I have enjoyed speaking with another sensible man enormously.”
Richard was tempted to accept the offer, but he said, “I am afraid I must leave soon if I wish to be back in London before the end of the day tomorrow.” He was also thinking that if he was to meet young Michael, it would be best to do so in the company of his mother, who could introduce them properly.
~~~~~
Priscilla was at a loss. She could not understand why she was so bored, so unhappy, when her life was the same as it had been for nearly a month.
Well, that was not exactly true. She did know why, but she did not wish to admit it.
She missed Colonel Fitzwilliam. She had last seen him four days ago when he had told her that he would need to travel out of the city for a few days.
He promised to return to her in four days, or perhaps five if he was delayed.
As she paced across her apartment, she stamped her foot every time she thought of the man as if she could stomp the thought right out of her head.
It was useless, pointless. No matter how much she enjoyed his company.
No matter how flattered she was by his appreciative glances and his gentle compliments.
No matter how much she wanted him near her always, she could never marry him, nor could she strike up any sort of illicit relationship.
She could never do anything that would tarnish her reputation so badly. Her very livelihood depended on it. Marriage was also impossible without being able to have her son come to live with her as well.
But was it? The only reason she felt it was so was because of a promise she had made to herself. There was no outside force keeping her from marrying, and nothing to truly keep her from changing her mind.
Her reasoning had been that she would never place herself in such a submissive, powerless role again unless she could have Michael back in her life to make it worth it.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, would never treat her that way.
She knew him well enough by now to know that he would treat her as an equal, a partner.
What, then, was stopping her from changing her mind?
Her thought process was halted by a knock on the door. Knowing in her bones that it was Colonel Fitzwilliam, she opened the door, herself, though it wasn’t entirely necessary as she did have a maid.
She was correct. It was him, and he was smiling more widely and more warmly than she had ever seen.
“Come in, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she said.
She had not objected to him visiting her home as long as his visits never lasted more than half an hour and as long as they were always in broad daylight.
Once inside, he said, “It is truly good to see you, Lady Priscilla,” he said, his voice matching the warmth in his eyes.
They sat down, and Priscilla asked, “How was your journey.”
His smile was a bit secretive, and a bit too attractive for comfort, as he said, “It went well, far better than I expected, in fact.”
“Oh? Do tell,” she said.
“There is something else I would like to discuss first, if it’s all the same,” he said.
“Of course,” said Priscilla. “What’s on your mind?”
“You and I have come to be quite good friends over these last two months,” he said.
“It has been quite an eye-opening experience for me as I never even imagined that I might someday call a lady my best friend. It is true, nonetheless. I enjoy our conversations, whether we are discussing the weather, the newspaper, or our own personal histories. On those few days when we have been separated, I truly missed your presence.”
As he said all this, he was looking at his hands, but his gaze moved to her face, and Priscilla was shocked at what she found there.
The warmth in his eyes had blazed into a fire.
She knew that look, though such a gaze had never been directed at her.
The few times her husband had sent her a heated gaze, it had been full of lust or anger, never the passion that was clear in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyes.
“On the other hand, what I feel for you is more than friendship, deeper than friendship could ever be,” he continued.
“I love you, more than mere words can express. As the time drew near that you would be leaving, I found that I simply could not let you go without at least attempting to win my heart’s desire.
“Lady Priscilla, I want you to be my wife, to be my partner in life, to walk beside me and live beside me, and to be my best friend and my treasured lover for all our days.”
For a fraction of a heartbeat, Priscilla’s heart leaped for joy.
She opened her mouth to accept, since what he had described was exactly what she had always wanted but never believed was even possible.
However, memories of her son intruded. If she married the colonel, she would forever be giving up her chance to marry someone who could bring him back to her.
Her mouth closed without her ever uttering a sound.
For some reason, her lack of response brought a small smile to his face. As he reached into the pocket of his coat, he said, “I have a letter here that might help plead my case.”
Confused, Priscilla opened and read the letter, her heart lifting with joy the more she read.
“Is this real?” she asked. “This can’t be real, can it?”
“It is,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “I should warn you, however, that the house and the estate are in very poor condition. If you accept, we won’t be living in anything like luxury.
My income from the army will help, but I will have to take half-wages if I am to invest the necessary time into restoring the estate.
If we work hard and are very lucky, we might be able to make the estate profitable by the time Michael is old enough to take over his birthright. That is the best we can hope for.”
“I am well aware of the state of the house, since that is where I lived for most of my marriage,” said Priscilla.
Her husband had hardly ever taken her to London with him, after all.
“And I do not mind living a less lavish lifestyle, especially if it gives my son a future he would otherwise not have.”
She laid the letter on a little table nearby and took Colonel Fitzwilliam’s hands in her own.
“I would like to tell you that, even before you gave me this letter, I was almost ready to say ‘yes,’ even without any guarantee that I would get my son back.
But now, you have given me everything I have ever imagined wanting.
“I love you, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I can’t say when it started, but you are so very dear to me now. I gratefully and joyfully accept your proposal.”
The heat flared in his eyes once more, but Priscilla barely noticed it before his lips met hers in the most unbelievable kiss.
Of course, she had been kissed before, many times in fact by her husband, but those kisses had always been cold and selfish. There was no care taken for her feelings on the matter whatsoever.
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s kiss, however, was full of love and tenderness and, yes, passion. The knowledge that he loved her, he needed her, he desired her reverberated through her whole body and soul.
And somewhere, hidden within the passion was a promise. A promise of a life full of joy, laughter, and supportive companionship.