Epilogue
Thick flurries of snow drifted from the sky and draped Westwood Hall estate under a gentle dusting, like confectioner’s sugar, transforming it into a delightfully dreamy landscape.
The entire Fane family, including the Viscount with his wife and children, had gathered at Westwood Hall to attend the baptism of Sebastian and Viola’s twin daughters, Emily Ann and Ellena Adeline, who had been born three weeks previously.
Viola’s confinement had passed without complication; by the third day after she’d given birth, she’d been tossing about restlessly in bed, itching to get up and about, but she’d received strict orders to remain in bed.
Mainly from Sebastian, who wouldn’t even let her get up to tend to the babies.
Instead, the nurse, or more often, he himself, would bring the children to her, one in each arm, and then he’d climb onto the bed to join his girls, happily, to watch Viola nurse first one, then the other.
“It’s all rather scandalous,” the nurse whispered to the other maids behind closed doors.
She was new to the household and rather surprised that the other domestics there merely shrugged, seeing nothing whatsoever wrong with these arrangements.
No doubt they had become inured to the scandal attached to their master and mistress.
Now that Viola’s confinement was finally over, visitors had arrived.
They’d first gathered in the family chapel next to the hall, where Uncle Atti baptised the babies over a marble baptismal font. Each child had three godparents: two godmothers and a godfather.
Philip had insisted on being the godfather of the older child, Emily, whereas Ellena’s godfather was none other than Lord Liverpool himself.
He held the baby in his arms, gently clucking his tongue as he looked down at the child.
A whimsical look crossed his face. “Not having any children myself, I suppose this is as close as I can get to fatherhood,” he told Sebastian.
“You are a lucky man, indeed, being blessed with the double load.”
Sebastian heartily agreed.
“Though,” Liverpool continued, “is there any significance regarding their names? I did not quite understand why everyone started giggling once the Archbishop announced their names earlier.”
Sebastian clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You must resort to reading some literature other than the Corn Laws, dear Robert. I recommend Ann Radcliffe.”
“Ah. So that is where Ann comes from. That means the other names…”
Sebastian sighed. “Names of heroines. All of them. It was my wife’s dearest wish, you know.”
Liverpool chuckled. “We stand in her debt, you know. The Asylum Act would never have passed without her support. Not to mention the whisky taxation motion, which she helped prevent. Penworthy cast his vote thanks to Lady Viola’s influence on his wife, I was told.
And regarding that publication, after the initial scandal died down, public opinion shifted rather remarkably.
It seems Mrs Selina Sable’s reputation for benevolence preceded her.
The public adores her. The papers found it rather difficult to maintain her image as a scandalous woman and you as the fallen man when half of London’s hospitals have benefited from her generosity.
” He paused. “She turned an embarrassment into a testament to Tory virtue. Even the most hardened critic would find it difficult to throw a stone at a man married to a wife so beloved by the public, wouldn’t you say? ”
“It is no secret that she donates a greater part of her income to charity. Though you must know that Viola owes no allegiance to our party. She emphatically claims to be above all party politics.” Ellena became restless, and Sebastian relieved him of his little daughter, cradling her gently in his arms.
“You are talking about me?” Viola joined them, with Emily in her arms, sleeping soundly.
“Indeed, Lady Viola. I was just telling your husband how fortunate we are that you are married to him.”
“So I keep telling him daily.” Viola smiled fondly at Sebastian.
“And I have been asking him daily when he plans on returning to the front bench. I have plans for your husband, you know. Big plans.”
Viola grew still. “What do they involve?”
“The position of Home Secretary will be vacated eventually, and I want Fane. The public will have forgotten the scandal long before then. He’s tremendously suitable for the job. It would make him the youngest Home Secretary ever. He hasn’t yet accepted.”
Viola turned to Sebastian. “You knew about this?”
“I did.” He gave a curt nod, shifting his daughter to his other arm. “But I wanted to discuss it with you first.”
“Ah, I have preempted marital communication.” Liverpool smiled, but there was something about it that made Viola believe he’d entirely intended things to develop like that.
He was a calculating politician, after all.
“But you must know, I cannot leave this place without your answer, Fane.” He played with the watch fob.
“I need you. We need you. This country needs you.” He turned to Viola.
“Lady Viola, I pray you will talk some sense into this man. I will give you some privacy.”
“Well? Do you want to do it?” Viola asked Sebastian after Liverpool had given a curt bow and turned to chat with Uncle Atti.
He frowned. “I was becoming rather attached to the image of turning into a country squire, rusticated and devoted to my family. Raising my girls here. Growing some vegetables in the garden and overseeing the renovation of Westwood Hall.”
Viola nodded. “Yes. Absolutely. It makes a fetching image. But don’t, for one minute, believe that I don’t know how you miss it.
The political life. That you sometimes get up at night to steal away into your study to write speeches that you never deliver, except to yourself, with me listening from behind the door.
You miss the debates in Parliament. You miss London.
And while I admit I abhor the idea of being the wife of the Home Secretary, for you know how politics bores me and I daresay I will embarrass you endlessly at political dinners, I abhor even more the idea that all this talent and potential goes to waste as you fade away here in the country.
It doesn’t matter where I write. I can write here as well as in London.
If you decide to accept Liverpool’s offer, I will support you.
” She paused, then added, “I always will.”
He regarded her for a long moment, and something shifted in his expression, a warmth she rarely saw him permit himself.
“That day you fell from the ruin into my arms. I have thought of it often. The heavens literally delivered the most precious gift I have ever received.” His voice was quiet.
“That accidental marriage turns out to be the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
Viola felt her entire face soften into a smile.
“Eh? What accidental marriage?” Uncle Atti had overheard the latter part. “There was nothing accidental about it.”
Both Viola and Sebastian turned. “But I thought it was clear I was standing in as a proxy for George,” Sebastian said. “The two of them were engaged.”
“Engaged, pshaw. There was never any official engagement between Viola and George. At least not as far as I know.” He sniffed. “And what’s not official doesn’t count.”
“It is true, George never made it official,” Viola conceded with a frown. “The banns were never called. We had merely a verbal agreement...”
Uncle Atti nodded and folded his hands over his nicely rounded stomach. “And well I knew that. I am sorry to disillusion you, but while George may have been fond of you, he never truly planned to marry you.”
“How do you know that?” Viola tilted her head.
“I asked him, of course. In one of his last letters before he was killed. Denied any plans of matrimony. Too busy courting the Spanish beauties.” Uncle Atti chuckled.
“He was a bit of a rake, that one, was he not? Regina knew too and planned on breaking the news to you gently. That was why she invited you to Westwood Hall that summer. You were her favourite goddaughter, and she felt responsible for your welfare.” He paused.
“But then she saw no need to broach the topic, since Sebastian appeared on the scene and swept you off your feet. It was clear to anyone who had eyes in their heads that you were quite taken with him.”
Viola opened her mouth to protest, but Uncle Atti carried on.
“The truth is that Regina planned it all. The day before she died, she had me summoned and told me she could no longer bear to watch you two tiptoe around each other. Both of you lovesick, moping, making moon-eyes at each other.”
“I never made moon-eyes.” Sebastian protested.
“Yes, you did. Even worse than her. I saw it myself. It was nauseating.” He chortled.
“And since you were both too blastedly pig-headed, not doing anything about it, Regina was forced to play cupid. She wanted to see you both married before she left this world. Saw that as her last good deed before she passed. Asked me to do it. So that is what I did.” He nodded, satisfied.
“And I daresay it went well. Very well indeed.”
He patted the heads of the babies, then crossed the room to speak with Henry.
Viola and Sebastian looked at each other.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
“I must apologise for my meddling, scheming, duplicitous family,” Sebastian said at last. “Both dead and alive. It is inexcusable.”
“Truly, I do not know whether to laugh or cry. I think I shall do both.” She pressed her cheek against Emily’s downy head. “Our dear Nana. George.” She groaned. “If only they had told us. I have been so hard on myself. On you. All this lost time...”
“If you hadn’t run,” Sebastian said quietly, “you would never have become England’s most notorious novelist. And I would never have so single-mindedly pursued a career in politics.
” He paused. “We ought to stop mourning the years we lost and simply be grateful for the ones that are still ahead of us.”
Viola’s gaze softened. “That is dangerously close to sentiment, Mr Fane.”
“I have been reliably informed that sentiment has its uses.”
Ellena woke with a bellowing cry. Emily, ever loyal, joined her.
Viola kissed her husband anyway, over the heads of their outraged daughters.
He bought the estate. She came with it. Neither of them is happy about this. Yet.