Epilogue
One Year Later
The Elphame docks in New York Harbor, and Catherine waddles to the end of the gangplank slowly.
“How are you feeling?” Violet asks her cousin. “Do you need more ginger or peppermint?”
“No,” Catherine says, taking Violet’s arm. After a fortnight at sea, she’s grateful to be back on land. “I’m alright. The morning sickness has eased.”
“Good.” Violet helps her onto the dock with one hand while holding onto her son with the other. “Now let’s get this visit done. I’d like to have you safely home before you increase any further.”
“I’m only four months along,” Catherine says. “You said I could travel until six months and maybe longer.”
“That’s before I saw how large you were going to become.” Violet grins. “You’re the size of a small townhouse. I think it may be twins. They do run in the family, you know.”
“I know,” Catherine says.
Just as she knows that Violet will acutely feel the loss of her twin brother for the rest of her days.
“And I am something of a whale, aren’t I?” She pats her stomach. “But then again, I married a man the size of a mountain, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”
She looks up to see Andrew making his way toward them now, his black curls a head higher than anyone else’s on the pier. “Ah, there is my mountain now.”
“I see him,” Violet says, laughing. “He’s hard to miss.”
McGann’s eyes light up when they catch Catherine’s, and he hurries his stride, his injured leg still pulling behind him.
“My love,” he says when he reaches them, “I’d pick you up but I’d rather not have you cast up your accounts on my shoes.”
“Hush.” Catherine swats at him. “I’ll have you know my sickness has eased, thanks very much to Violet. Whom you still have not greeted properly.”
McGann releases her and turns to Violet with a bow. “Violet,” he says, “forgive me.”
“Of course. It’s good to see you again. Now where is that husband of mine?”
“He’s with your father still. Hashing out some details about the export of timber. We’ll need to finish the last of the ships as soon as possible. They say war is coming.”
“I do wish Father would join us in England now that Mother is there permanently. He says the Southern States are agitating for secession.” Violet looks around New York Harbor. “How are the ships faring?”
“We’ve two more ready to put in, crewed with men from—”
“And women,” Catherine interjects.
“Aye, and women from the Southern States. And with your family’s timber, we can have twice that before the war begins.”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” Violet says and kisses them farewell. “I’m off to find Alistair before he and my father come to blows.”
“I thought they got along well?” Catherine asks.
“Oh, they do. They are possibly more of a love match than he and I are.” Violet checks her pocket watch. “But they’ve been known to go out and pick fights together, both being fellow unionists and all.”
“Well,” Catherine says, her eyes alight with mischief. “If you can convince him to cross the pond, he’s always welcome at my school for self-defense.”
“I thought it was only for ladies?”
“I’ll make an exception for family,” Catherine replies. “Now go and rescue your husband, dear. We’re off to celebrate our own little victory and to find more outlets for Esmee’s whisky.”
“Is she still seeing that former Bow Street Runner?” Violet asks. “I hope so. I do like Inspector Hughes.”
Andrew harrumphs loudly at the mention of his sister and her beau.
“Behave,” Catherine says, patting his arm. “The Inspector is a fine man. Now, let’s go have our luncheon. I am quite starved and we’ve a great deal to celebrate.”
“Aye.” He hands them a copy of the New York Herald and the New York Tribune. “It’s official as of this morning. Parliament has revoked the charter of the East India Company.”
“Cheers to that,” Violet says.
“Indeed,” Catherine agrees. “To the end of a terrible era.”
“Hear, hear,” Andrew echoes. “Down with the English!”
“I beg your pardon,” Catherine says, eyebrow raised. “I’ll have you know I am English.”
“Aye, I know it.” He pulls her close. “And I forgive you for it, lass. But only because you’ve agreed to live with me in the wilds of Scotland.”
“Hmph,” she says, but she knows the light in her eyes gives her away.
“It was the best place to start my Ladies’ School for Self-Defense.
Scottish lasses take to fighting like fish to water.
Now let me go before this enormous babe of yours has something to say about it.
The child’s not shy about making their wishes known to my poor ribcage. ”
He eases his hug and kisses her again. “As you wish, my love,” he says and then offers her his arm. “Off to luncheon, my lady.”
“Just Catherine, please,” she says and slips her arm in his. It is the only place she ever wants to be. Side by side with him, just Catherine and Andrew. Always.
The End