Epilogue
In the two years that followed the wedding, Cora did indeed find herself learning to accept—and, in time, appreciate—her new surroundings.
The commoners continued to grumble whenever they saw her, and for a time, that was reason enough for her to avoid leaving the castle. However, it was Edwina, funnily enough, who eventually convinced her that this was entirely the wrong approach if she wanted her situation in Scotland to improve.
“If I go out to meet them, they will scowl at me and doubtless call me all sorts of wretched names the moment I am no longer in earshot,” Cora protested.
“That is all very true,” Edwina confirmed, “but if you do not go out and meet them, they will say it is because you are an English lass who looks down her nose at the rest of us. And the longer they do not see you or hear from you, the easier it will be for them to concoct all sorts of ludicrous rumors and gossip about you. If you truly desire their eventual acceptance, my dear sister-in-law, then you must give them a proper chance to become accustomed to you. You must show them that you have a good heart and that you will do all you can to improve their lives when your husband is laird.”
“How on earth am I to accomplish such a thing?”
Edwina thought it over for a moment. “My sisters and I often travel to the villages to hand out bread and alms to those in need. If you offer aid to people who require it, they’ll hardly be in any position to turn it down, will they?
Then they may begin to understand your kind and generous nature, especially since you will be in our company, and they generally like us. ”
Cora agreed to do so and thus became a fixture in the villages in the weeks that followed. At first, the peasants accepted her help grudgingly as though concerned that she might snatch the coins away from them again out of cruel spite or that she might have slipped poison into the bread as a lark.
It took months of time and patience, but sure enough, the commoners began to accept that she had their best interests at heart.
They greeted her a bit more warmly with each new visit until, after half a year, they fell into the habit of smiling and cheering when they saw her approach.
Even when she was not accompanied by the Wallace sisters, she was still welcomed happily.
Cameron was pleased to see it, even though he was forced to watch the rather swift decline of his father’s health.
The healers gave Laird Cawley all they could to ease his suffering, but within a year, he became bedridden and too weak to rule anymore.
He had, in the preceding months, come to reinstate Cameron as his heir—for now that Cameron had his bride, there was nothing stopping him from serving the clan faithfully as laird.
Which he did, in the end, after Laird Cawley’s passing. The father and son spoke their love to each other, and then the laird closed his eyes and faded away.
It was tragic, of course. But then again, the old man had lived a long and mostly happy life, and everyone agreed the particulars of his illness could have been far more prolonged and agonizing than they were.
He died as he’d wished to: in his own bed, surrounded by the people who loved him most, and knowing that his legacy of wise and worthy leadership would be well-protected by his successor.
And best of all, as he left this world, his grandchild would be born into it.
Cora had been pregnant for many months, and when the time came for her to give birth, the entire clan seemed to hold its breath as it waited for happy news.
All among them knew full well that the birth could end in horror for mother and child both, and although this dread was shared by everyone, none chose to speak it aloud for fear that it might come true if they did.
After many hours, however, Cameron appeared on the ramparts of the castle, holding his newborn baby in his arms and smiling as tears streamed down his face.
“Behold!” he called out to the thunderous applause of his clansmen. “My beautiful wife gave me the best present a man could ask for: My son, who shall be named for his grandfather: Cawley!”