Epilogue #4
And that was awesome.
Rebecca did not contact Battle, or any of them again.
Until years later, when she was dying.
Because they were who they were, all four of them swallowed down their pain and anger and went to Greece to visit and say goodbye.
Obviously, all the partners went with.
She was beautiful, even at the end of her decline.
And I was nice to her face.
But I was glad to take my man home.
Chassie stayed with her the two weeks it took to reach the inevitable end.
And because they were who they were, they buried her next to their father in the family plot.
Atlas would wish this, so there was that.
But Rebecca would feel entitled to it, and quite frankly, that sucked.
Though life was life, you couldn’t have everything your way.
I wondered if Rebecca learned that in the end, with only one daughter near her side, and her being there out of duty only.
Regrettably, I doubted it.
As I was in on the whole ceremony to add Harmony and Charlie to the house forever, I got over my fear of the ballroom.
Truth, it wasn’t a room that was ever used, outside the weddings we seemed to keep having at the house.
But I never saw the lights or the ghosts again.
Further, the cats never acted weird or tripped me into being where they wanted me to be (though, they did trip me, just because they’re cats).
In fact, nothing weird or supernatural happened at all.
And call me crazy.
I was kind of bummed about that.
I used some more of my millions to buy myself some shit-hot riding breeches and boots.
Battle approved, though I thought he approved more of the fact that, after we rode, he got to peel them off me.
I got really good at riding.
So good, Battle and I rode frequently.
Sometimes we did it alone. Sometimes with Tempie and/or Hamish, Prue, Chassie and/or Christian (Francois didn’t ride).
I tried to shoot a shotgun, but that bitch put an angry bruise on my shoulder and nearly knocked me flat on my ass (Battle warned me about the kickback, but damn).
That bruise was visible for over a week.
No thank you.
Though, I enjoyed watching my guy decimate the clay pigeons flung through the air.
It was all kinds of hot.
An aside: Francois might not ride, but the dude was hell on wheels shooting clay pigeons.
It was almost as fun to watch Battle shoot them with the way Prue would cheer and clap every time her hubby hit the mark.
Seriously, they were so cute together.
Battle took me back home to The States repeatedly.
My grandparents loved him.
Solène loved him for me.
Alex thought he was the shit.
And Matty and Rayray absolutely adored their Uncle Battie.
They all came out for Battle’s and my wedding.
Another small affair in the gardens.
My gown was gorgeous.
My groom was way more beautiful.
Solène walked me down the aisle.
But Bartholomew went with us.
When the pastor told Battle he could kiss the bride, he did, twice.
First, he kissed my freckles.
And only after that, he kissed my lips.
Prue’s wedding present was another abstract portrait.
This one of me.
It was of my profile, my hair pulled back in a soft chignon.
The only thing that was truly distinct was my face.
In my hair, my neck, my bare shoulder, there were cats and dogs and horses, flowers, rings and rolling parkland.
Outside the rings, it looked like The Downs lived under my skin.
Like Battle resided there.
It was perfect.
Battle had it mounted over our bed.
And it was safe to say, he liked it better than me.
I gave Battle three perfect (says me) babies.
Noble, our oldest, a boy.
Archer, our second, also a boy.
And Fury, our last, a girl.
It was good when I finally started pushing them out. One could say my man was at a loss without a whole brood to take care of.
So I didn’t mess about in giving him a new one.
It didn’t surprise me he was as good of a father to boys (I had no doubts about him being the best girl dad in history) as he was a brother to his sisters.
Then again, Battle Talyn, Duke of Burleigh, was good at everything.
Yeah.
Says me.
Tempie and Hamish and Battle and I shared the south wing with our broods, Prue and Francois and Chassie and Christian and their broods shared the north.
Cocktails had to be moved to the games room because it was bigger, and as such, fit more people, with more room for babies to crawl, then toddlers to toddle, then tweenies to bop and teenagers to laze.
Fitzy and Patsy stayed with us until they retired to the steward’s cottage (the men who eventually replaced Harry and Scotty when they moved on lived in the attic apartments).
They did this rent free and on a generous pension from The Downs.
Though, they weren’t there often, since they used their pension to do what they’d always wanted to do: travel the globe.
Fitzy the Second (though we called him Bonzie), Fitzgibbons and Patsy’s eldest son, took over with his wife, Connie.
And every night at The Downs, some were there, some might be away, friends would join, or it would be just family.
But always, the dining room table at The Downs was full to bursting.
Just like any house filled to the brim with love…
That was as it should be.
The End
The Manors and Mysteries Series will continue…