Epilogue
W
“To David,
Now that you are old enough to write, I wanted you to have this.
Everyone should have a secret place to write out their dreams and their fears.
Keep it hidden. You are the brightest part of my day—a joy to behold—and someday we will find a way to make your life so sweet the bitter will be washed away.
With all the love of my heart,
Mother”
—Celeste Tate, 1836, Age 29
David leaned forward against the back of the sofa, where I sat in our Lincolnshire cottage.
His arms were draped around my shoulders, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Several of his scars showed, but neither of us worried about anyone seeing them anymore.
I lifted each page of the newspaper, searching the headlines for the story David wanted me to find.
“Could you give me a clue, at least?” I begged. “Which section of the newspaper should I be looking in?”
“Hmm . . .” David rubbed his cheek against mine, the soft stubble making me tuck my chin into my shoulder with a shiver. It was such a distraction, having a husband. “But I’m so enjoying the anticipation.”
“Mama and Julia will be back from their shopping trip in less than an hour. Don’t you think there are better ways we could be making use of our time than having me read the entire paper?”
David huffed and nipped softly at my ear. “You always know exactly how to get what you want.” He swatted my hands away from the paper and quickly pulled down the pages until he found the one he wanted.
“The financial section?” I asked. What would be of interest to me in the financial section?
“There is a business for sale that might interest you.”
A business? David and I were happy here in Lincolnshire, going by the names of Mr. and Mrs. Ford. We’d made a life here quicker than I’d ever thought possible. Did he want a change already? If he did, I would follow him.
“Do you want to buy a business? I thought you enjoyed working as a steward for Lord Pippen.”
“I do enjoy working for Lord Pippen, and I don’t have any desire to buy this business, but if you want us to buy it, I would take some perverse pleasure in it.”
I turned my neck to get a better look at him. That sounded very unlike my husband. He sighed and came around to sit next to me on the sofa, pointing to the exact article he wanted me to read.
Only it wasn’t an article. It was a notice.
Haberdashery and Butchery for Sale
Contact Bradly Goodwin
Silverfork, Derbyshire
“Bradly Goodwin? Who is he? He doesn’t own those stores. Mr. Green does.”
“Ah.” David tapped the side of his nose. “But Bradly Goodwin is his solicitor. Someone recently had reason to look into Mr. Green’s books, and it turns out your bills were not the only ones he manipulated.”
I turned to him. “Mr. Rawlings?”
He nodded.
I let my head fall back and rest on the sofa.
I hadn’t bothered to think about Mr. Green for the six months we’d lived in Lincolnshire.
That part of my life seemed so far away.
But if he was taking advantage of the people of Silverfork, I was extremely grateful my father’s solicitor had asked questions instead of simply paying Mr. Green’s bill when I’d sent it to him.
“He’s going to be ruined,” I said more to myself than anyone else.
David nodded.
I turned to David with a smile tugging at my lips. “So it’s a good thing I didn’t marry him after all.” I heaved a sigh. “What a relief.”
His smile dropped. “Pardon me?” he said, his head tipping dangerously toward me.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I could have married him, you know. A woman often wonders if she made the right choice.” I pointed to the paper. “Now I know. Thank you for showing me this. You’ve set my mind at ease.”
A growl rumbled up from David’s chest. He put his hands on my hips and pulled me toward him.
I squeaked in protest as my head dropped to the seat of the sofa.
David hovered over me, walking his hands up the cushion until he paused with his arms at my sides.
His face loomed over me, and in his eyes was a challenge.
“How long did you say it would be before your mother and Julia return?”
“Probably about forty minutes,” I said, sinking deeper into the cushions and running a hand up David’s arm. “Why do you ask?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Because I want to know precisely how much time I have to prove to you that you ended up with the right husband.”
I pulled my lower lip into my mouth, trying to hide a smile, then cocked my head to the side. “That sounds like a daunting task. Will forty minutes be enough time?”
“No,” he replied. “But it will be a start.”
“I’m a very busy woman.” I furrowed my eyebrows in mock concern. “Exactly how much more will you need?”
David brought his mouth next to my ear, and I shivered as his weight settled over me. “All of it,” he replied.
I smiled, wrapped my arms around him, and caught his mouth with my own, because that was precisely the amount of my time I wanted to give him.
Sometimes in life, you need one person who sees you better than you see yourself. One person to hold you up. One person to love you. One fervent light in an otherwise dark world by which you can find your way. And that one person, for me, was David.