Epilogue #2
“Perhaps so, although it did not feel like courage. Every morning I woke shaking and feeling ill, knowing I had to face him. Even now, three months after he died, I still feel queer at first. It is not until I sit down to breakfast and face his empty chair that I can begin to feel comfortable again. I will recover fully, in time, but he has been a dark shadow over my whole life.”
“You are looking better,” Simon said. “You looked so thin and wasted, I thought you were ill, but you have begun to put on weight again.”
Andrew laughed. “Lavinia has been feeding me up, and of course we can put anything on the table now, even the foods that Father was forbidden. So many treats we can now enjoy! But let us not spoil the day by talking any more about him. This is a happy time. We have missed the baptism, I assume, but we are in time for the ball and, of course, your wedding. I shall be delighted to stand up for you on the day, brother.”
“I hope you will do so before then. Sophia will be opening the ball tonight, but I cannot dance a single step. Will you lead her out?”
“You cannot dance at all? Heavens, that needs to be corrected. Your lady loves to dance, and a husband with two left feet cannot be tolerated. I am astonished that she does not throw you over for some more light-footed fellow.”
“She has promised to teach me, but her efforts so far have not been crowned with success. Will you do it? She will not stand up with her brother, and it ought to be someone of rank, but I do not like to call upon the duke. He is very fit for his age but leading a country dance is probably asking too much of him.”
Andrew chuckled. “Even now, his courtly manner of walking suggests that he was a most elegant dancer in his day. He would have executed a wonderful minuet. However, a boisterous country dance would be too much for a gentleman of his age. I can only hope it will not be too much for me. I shall be delighted to attempt it. This is excellent claret, brother. I might ask for some to be sent up to my room, to fortify me in preparation for the ball.”
“Do you need fortifying against one dance with Sophia?” Simon said, amused.
“No, against the three, at least, that Lavinia will insist upon. I can usually get away with just one dance, and then retreat hastily to the card room, but I suspect tonight will be different. Perhaps I should sprain my ankle when I dance with Sophia, eh?”
“Do you think Lavinia would believe you?”
“No. Women, Simon! Devious, manipulative little creatures, who know just how to get a man to do precisely what they want. You should run a mile before tying yourself to one. It is not too late.”
Simon smiled. “Oh, brother, it is far, far too late for me. I was lost a long time ago, and I would not change a thing.”
“Then I drink to your good lady, and a lifetime of happiness,” Andrew said, raising his glass.
It was a toast Simon could heartily endorse.
***
Until Simon saw Sophia emerge from her room wearing her new ball gown, he had not realised just how beautiful she was.
He had always thought her features pleasing, and would certainly have described her as pretty without hesitation, but the vision that confronted him now was something entirely out of the ordinary.
For a moment he was struck dumb, so that she laughed and said, “Well? Do I pass muster, Mr Payne?”
“Pass muster?” he cried, startled into speech. “You must know that if you walked into Almack’s this minute, you would shine down every other lady present.”
“Would I?” she said shyly, blushing a little. “It is a beautiful gown, is it not?”
“It is the lady who adorns it who is beautiful,” he said. “You are incomparable, my love.”
“What a lovely compliment! Those flowers you are in danger of squashing — are they for me?”
“Oh…” He looked vaguely down at the beribboned posy he clutched, having forgotten he was holding it. Now he thrust it towards her. “I… I think they are not too crushed, but you drive every rational thought from my head.”
She giggled, took the posy and tucked her arm in his. “Shall we go down, my soon to be husband?”
Wordlessly, for speech was extraordinarily difficult just then, he turned and escorted her to the stairs.
He could not remember ever enjoying an evening so much.
Even though the last few months had been a continuous succession of wonderful evenings, and there was the promise of even better to come, yet he felt that there was something magical about the Staineybank ball.
Sophia’s pleasure in the dance was a large part of it, of course, and he spent his time following her about, sketch book in hand, attempting to capture the gracefulness of her movements and the lightness with which she executed the steps.
Yet Sophia was not the whole of it. Whether her enthusiasm had infected everyone else or whether it was the beauty of the Marble Hall that created the joyous atmosphere, there was no doubt that the evening was unlike any other.
Apart from Simon, everyone danced, even the duke, once, with the duchess.
She, having finally left off her mourning weeds for her dead son, stood up for every dance.
The Merrington sisters, naturally, did the same.
Even Juliet and Mr Godley, neither of them keen dancers, took part. It was wonderful to watch.
At supper, the duke and duchess sat beside Simon and Sophia.
“Ready for married life, you two?” the duke said genially.
“Oh, yes,” they said in unison.
“You have a wedding trip planned, my dear duchess tells me.”
“My brother is lending us his Shropshire house for a se’nnight or so, but we cannot stay away long. I must be back when the builder arrives.”
“Ah, Rowena’s orangery! That is going to be something very special when it is done,” the duke said with satisfaction.
“It will be mentioned in all the guide books. ‘The gallery bridge and orangery, designed by Payne, is something quite out of the ordinary way, and well worth visiting.’ Something like that. We shall be inundated with travellers wishing to view it.”
Simon laughed. “We shall see. But I am afraid we shall be under your feet for some time to come yet, until it is finished.”
“No need to rush away. So long as my lovely duchess is pleased to be friends with the Miss Merringtons, they are welcome to stay here to keep her happy and amused, and that goes for Mr and Mrs Simon Payne, too. Besides, Richard is my heir and you are his family, so you have a home here for as long as you want.”
“You are all goodness, your grace,” Simon murmured. “And does that apply to Juliet, too? She loves it here, and we have been together for so long that we should hate to be separated now.”
“Ah, Juliet reminds me of her mother, and I have fond memories of her, so of course she may stay. Do you think her mother might pay a visit here, if I were to extend the invitation? I should love to see her again, and reminisce about our glory days of years ago, and gloat over all our contemporaries who are fat or insane or dead.”
Simon grimaced. “I am not sure that Juliet wishes to meet Mrs Granville again, and I am certain that I do not.”
“Well, well, I shall perhaps see her in town one of these days. If Richard and Rowena go up for the season next spring, I shall go with them to introduce them about a bit. Perhaps Mrs So-called Granville will be there. Ah, Cecilia! What a girl she was in her heyday! Ah, more champagne. Thank you, Froggett. So wonderful to have so much to celebrate — Rowena’s daughter, and your wedding, and yet, how strange it is that you were brought here by that peculiar letter, Payne, just as Rowena was, and there she is married to Richard, and now here you are, about to marry Sophia.
It is almost as if your coming was meant to be. ”
“It was meant to be,” Sophia said. “This mysterious Mr Goodenough, whoever he is, meant it to be. He quite deliberately brought both Rowena and Simon here.”
“And Juliet,” Simon said. “The letter was addressed to her, and not to me.”
“Hammond has a theory about it, did you know that?” the duke said.
“He thinks there must be some connection between the two letters, and he thinks he sees it. Rowena is the granddaughter of a woman who scandalised her family by conceiving a child out of wedlock and was driven out of the family as a result. Juliet is the daughter of another woman who scandalised her family and was driven out — divorced. So they are both black sheep, you see. That is the connection, according to Hammond.”
“That is very tenuous,” Simon said.
“And why would this Mr Goodenough even care?” Sophia said. “It is old history, so what is the point of digging it up today?”
“Ah, old history,” the duke said. “It never quite goes away, does it? And all families have their skeletons in cupboards, or their black sheep. So perhaps, if Hammond is right, we will see more of these letters from Mr Goodenough. That would be amusing, would it not?”
***
Two days later, Mr Godley’s services were called upon once more. The Staineybank chapel was full to overflowing with the duke’s household and the groom’s family, while the servants crowded into the gallery above to peer through the carved screen at the proceedings.
Sophia was not nervous. How could she be, as she was passed from her brother’s care to the safe arms of her beloved Simon? As they all streamed out of the chapel afterwards, Richard joked to Charlotte, Augusta and Maria, “That is one of you gone. Who will be next?”
“We are doing our best, brother,” Charlotte said, eyeing the gaggle of Paynes laughing and joking.
“How fortunate that both Mr John and Mr Matthew are unmarried,” Augusta said.
“They are both clergymen,” Charlotte said.
“I should not mind that,” Maria said.
“Nor I,” said Augusta. “A clergyman’s wife may still ride, after all.”
“A clergyman needs an active, practical wife who can keep house,” Charlotte said loftily. “You need a wealthy husband, Augusta, who can afford a string of hunters for you, and your husband must needs have a large library, Maria, and not a shelf of tomes in Latin or Greek.”
“I could learn Greek,” she said stoutly.
Sophia laughed, and shook her head. “Chasing after a husband has never worked for us, sisters. Take my advice, and stop looking for matrimony, and perhaps matrimony will come looking for you.”
The three were silent for a minute, frowning as they worked it out. Then Maria shook her head. “No, I cannot think that it will. You were lucky, sister, but we cannot assume that we will be so fortunate. We must make our own luck.”
As they drifted away, heads together, still plotting, Simon said, “Is it strange, being the one married sister? You have done everything as a group and now you will be apart a great deal.”
“I do not mind, for now I have you,” she said, beaming up at him. “I only wish they could be so fortunate.”
“They will do better now that they have established this system of coloured ribbons,” he said. “Come, wife, to breakfast.”
***
Alittle after noon, the duke’s best travelling carriage drew up at the door to convey the newly married pair away to Shropshire for a week of post-nuptial bliss.
The bride wore a fetching deep blue pelisse with a matching bonnet sporting three jauntily waving feathers.
The groom, having no pretensions to fashionable elegance, was much as usual, although he carried the new hat his brother had brought him from London.
The bride thought he looked absolutely splendid anyway.
The farewells were made, the last tears were shed and the carriage rolled away down the drive.
“Alone at last, Mrs Payne,” Simon said, stripping off his own gloves, and beginning to wrestle with hers so that he could hold her hand.
“We shall have a week of being alone,” she said, willingly tearing off her own gloves. “Shall we be sick of it by then, do you suppose, and be very thankful to return to Staineybank?”
“We shall be glad to return, certainly, but I hope a week is not sufficient to render us tired of each other. I do not feel that even three lifetimes would be enough for me to tire of you.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and planted a delicate kiss on the back of it, and then on the palm.
She blushed a little, then said softly, “It is wonderful, is it not? Being in love, I mean. The poets talk about walking on air, and it truly is like that. There is some kind of alchemy to it. The duke said that your coming was meant to be, and perhaps our love was meant to be, too. I know I felt something inside me the first time I ever saw you, standing in the Marble Hall gazing around you in such awe. Everyone else was concentrating on mundane matters but you were entranced by the house. I found that… so endearing.”
“I confess, I did not notice you particularly after that first day when you were so kind to me. You became just one of your sisters, until the invitation arrived from Marshfields and I could see the hope and despair chasing each other across your countenance. I realised then that I would like to get to know you better, this girl who so desperately wanted to dance. And as soon as that happened, I could think of nothing but you.”
“It was meant to be, was it not?” she whispered.
But his lips were already seeking hers and his answer was given without a word being spoken.
THE END