Epilogue
Eighteen months later
It was finally done. Dellborough and the king might have thought changing the name of Allan’s title would be simple, but the College of Arms and the palace staff had agonized over the implications and possible processes to avoid adverse consequences.
Melody was here today, sitting at the back of the House of Lords with all of her brothers-in-law and most of their wives, as a result of their solution.
The Marquess of Teign had become the Marquess of Arlesley, but with a new patent and writ of summons, which the king’s advisers had decided meant a formal presentation to the House of Lords as if Allan’s peerage were entirely new.
He would be here any moment. His mentor, the Duke of Dellborough, had just walked into the chamber, and Melody knew that he would have stayed with Allan to the door of the chamber.
Yes, and here came the Garter King of Arms in all the glory of his traditional costume, with Allan after him, the Marquess of Deerhaven on one side, and the Marquess of Winchester on the other.
All three of them wore the ceremonial parliamentary robes of a marquess, made of red wool and marked with the three and a half bars of white fur, edged with gold lace that designated their rank.
As Allan bowed to the Lord Chancellor, Melody leaned forward as much as she could, given her pregnancy.
She watched intently as the Lord Chancellor ordered the Garter to read the patent and the writ of summons.
Next came Allan’s oath of allegiance to the king, and finally, Allan was led to his place in the chamber, where he took off his cap and bowed to the Lord Chancellor.
She had heard his maiden speech over and over.
He had been practicing bits of it for weeks, and had said the whole of it for her twice yesterday.
“I shall be so nervous that I shall forget it entirely,” he said, and took a written copy of it with him, in the pocket of the breeches he wore under his robes.
He didn’t need it, however. As Allan always did, he rose to the needs of the moment, thanking the lords for their support, reaffirming his support for the king and “this great country that we all love”, and promising to serve both to the best of his ability.
It was done. Though those in the know had been calling Allan by his new title ever since the decision was finally made, today marked a watershed moment.
Teign was gone forever, and only Arlesley remained.
Melody hoped that Allan’s long-deceased mother somehow knew that her father’s heritage lived on in her son, and was pleased.
The Sheppards did not stay for long after Allan had finished his speech. They filed from the chamber and made their way out to Old Palace Yard, to wait for Allan.
“We’ll meet you back at Arlesley House,” said Isaac to Mel.
He and Jerome had arrived a few days ago, back from their travels.
They had matured in their time away, and gained confidence.
Like the other Sheppard brothers, they were men of substance, and it showed.
The two of them, and a couple of the other brothers, set off to walk to the mansion, which was only a few streets away.
Several of the wives took the barouche that was waiting, with their husbands walking alongside, but Thomasina and Winifred stayed with Mel to wait for Allan.
Baldwin and Frank were talking to the journalists.
The newspapers were painting the renaming of the title as Teign’s final defeat at the hands of his heir, and were eager to resurrect the scandals of Teign’s life and death.
They had a point about the occasion. The sons of the former marquess would never forget the torments they had suffered at their father’s hands, but they all agreed that Allan’s acceptance of the Arlesley title put Teign’s evil heritage firmly in the past.
There was a stir among the journalists when Allan walked out of the palace, accompanied by Dellborough.
They abandoned Baldwin and Frank and rushed Allan, but a few terse words from Dellborough scattered them again, and cowed them enough to keep them from crowding the family while each husband handed his own wife into one of the two remaining carriages.
Their carriages rolled on to Arlesley House—the former Teign Tower—which had been utterly transformed by the renovations. They entered through the main doors into a restored great hall that had once been broken up into an entrance hall and two levels of reception rooms.
The great hall was now the grandest reception room of all, with a magnificent curving staircase on one side, a minstrel’s gallery on the other, and enough space in between, under the arching roof thirty feet above, to accommodate eight sofas, four couches, a couple of dozen chairs, a score of occasional and side tables, a dance floor, a grand piano, and more.
It was currently serving the family as a gathering room. Isaac and Jerome were playing a duet on the piano. Several of the brothers were standing by the sideboard that contained the decanters, engaged in a debate that clearly required glasses to be waved, their contents sloshing dangerously.
Cornelius sat with Thomasina, their baby daughter in asleep in his arms. In one corner, the toddling infants played under the supervision of their nurses. Four of them must have been conceived at The Golden Adonis, for they arrived between six and seven months after the weddings.
Lydia and Harriet, who had had a joyful reunion yesterday afternoon, were hand in hand and deep in conversation on one of the couches. Elias was sitting next to his father, with Benjie next to him, leafing through a book.
Allan and Baldwin were welcomed into the group by the decanters, while Frank went to sit by Winifred, who had not come to Parliament today, as her second baby was expected at any time.
Mel handed her bonnet, gloves, and coat to the butler. “Please tell Mrs. Parker to serve luncheon,” she said. It would be a casual meal, with the food laid out on one or more of the side tables and everyone welcome to help themselves.
She took a seat by Thomasina, ready to admire the newest Sheppard baby. Or, at least, the newest at the moment. With eight of the brothers increasing their families, the title of youngest baby seldom remained long with one holder.
Much of the attention today was on the six adults who had traveled farthest to be here with Allan on the day he finally shed the burden of his father’s title—two from Edinburgh, two from France, and two from further afield, most recently Egypt.
There was enough interest to spare for the three ladies, including Mel, who were with child.
Mel was certain that the brothers had a bet or two on whether the ladies were carrying sons or daughters, and on the birth date for each, for a couple of them had asked her questions about her food preferences and what side she chose for sleeping.
She’d also seen some assessing glances at the shape of her belly, for the grandmothers said that boys were carried low and girls were carried high.
Allan had threatened to clip his brothers’ ears for their impertinence, but Mel knew it was all in good humor. It was such a joy to be part of a large family.
It was hard to believe they were living in the same house that Mel had first entered more than two years ago.
In fact, perhaps they were not. Every room had changed, from the attics to the cellars.
Some had required little more than redecoration.
Some had had walls demolished, and even, in some cases, parts of floors or ceilings, so that rooms disappeared and new ones were built in their place.
After more than a year of work, only the least-used spaces still had workmen beavering away to finish them. And the tower, which was being fully restored as rooms for the eventual heir to the marquisate, and would in the meantime, act as overflow space for guests.
It seemed unlikely that they would ever have enough guests to require the space, but given the way the family was growing, perhaps it might happen.
The biggest change in the house was not the building renovations, however.
It was the atmosphere. People enjoyed being here.
Mel knew it, and so, she fancied, did the house.
Even skeptical Baldwin waxed poetical on the topic, saying that the house had woken from a nightmare and now remembered how to be a happy family home, for all its ridiculous size.
The two youngest brothers had been assigned a bedroom suite each here in Arlesley House when they’d arrived two days ago.
They had been polite enough to try to hide their reluctance, until they saw how different the house was now.
They had now settled in, and that initial distaste was gone as surely as Teign Tower.
The Sheppard family, plus Phineas and Harmony, spent the afternoon together, those with London homes being reluctant to leave the gathering.
They even stayed for dinner, and most of the family who lived elsewhere would be remaining in London for at least another two days, so the family reunion would continue tomorrow.
After all, it had been two years since they had seen Isaac and Jerome.
Mel enjoyed the whole day, but when Clara announced that she was tired, and that she and Baldwin would be heading home, and Winifred and Thomasina both declared their intention of going up to bed, Mel’s own weariness seemed to crash in on her.
“I must beg you to excuse me,” she said. “I feel I should stay, since I am your hostess, but…”
“You are tired and you want your bed,” said Harmony.
“We are family,” said Ernest. “Do not worry, sister. We shall not swing from the chandeliers or take pot shots at the vases.”
Allan sent his brother a scathing glance, but his words were for Mel. “I shall retire, too, my lady,” and he offered her his arm.
“I shall be your maid,” he said, and he sent Mel’s maid away. “How tired are you?”
“Not too tired,” Mel replied, interest in Allan’s intentions driving back the weariness.
It was the perfect end to a perfect day, rejoicing in one another’s love, repeating once again the ancient dance of love that celebrated and reaffirmed their marriage.
“I love you, Lady Arlesley,” said Allan, as they lay in one another’s arms, replete and content.
Sleepily, Mel took Allan’s hand and placed it on her belly. “Your child is restless, Lord Arlesley.” Like him, she was enjoying the sound of their new title.
“A new house, a new title, a new child,” Allan said. “Was ever a man so fortunate?”
“I am the lucky one,” Mel insisted, around a yawn, and she drifted off to sleep to the touch of his kiss to her forehead. Allan. Lord Arlesley. Her love, her partner, her marquess, her lord, her very own night dancer.
THE END