Epilogue
FOUR MONTHS LATER
Gillian double-checked the list on her clipboard as she set it down on the kitchen worktop. Satisfied, her pen pressed down to tick the last box. The manor was spotless, and the scent of spring flowers from Elouise and Louisa’s garden filled the air, mixing with the aroma of freshly baked scones. Everything was ready for their afternoon tea party.
Under normal circumstances, Gillian would receive everyone herself to make each guest feel personally welcomed. With Bridget noticing her focus was elsewhere — eagerly awaiting the arrival of Viola, the guest of honour — she had volunteered to do it for her.
The effects of a week shared with Viola lingered in her mind, causing its own distractions. It wasn’t just the dazzling whirlwind of London — the museums, the art galleries, or the extravagant shopping sprees. Nor was it the evenings spent dining at Michelin-starred restaurants, laughing over exquisite food and wine. It was what had come in the quiet moments: how they searched for each other’s hand, gripping the other’s when they walked, or the way Viola would rest her head against Gillian’s shoulder in the back of the taxi after a long day of sightseeing. Those moments left their mark far deeper than the distractions of the city.
It was liberating to get away and be in a different environment with Viola. On the few occasions she returned from America between concerts, Gillian had met her in the city, keeping her away from Kingsford and the surprise she was planning.
A week had passed since she reluctantly left Viola’s penthouse — and, more regrettably, her bedroom — to give her space to prepare for her imminent tour. In the meantime, she returned to Kingsford to finalise arrangements for Viola’s party. Although Bridget offered to handle everything, Gillian had immersed herself in the planning and preparation. This was to be her last event for some time, and with it being such a special occasion, she felt compelled to oversee every detail herself.
The familiar vibration she’d grown fond of filled the air around her. A glance out of the window confirmed it as the silhouette of a helicopter gleamed in the afternoon sun — Viola was on her way.
Gillian’s heart rate, already elevated from nerves all day, quickened to a nearly panicked pace. Viola’s arrival was more than a reunion; it was the moment for everyone to understand exactly what she meant to her.
Gillian’s stomach tightened at the thought. For years, she had buried parts of herself beneath layers of propriety and grief. The village could be warm and welcoming, yes, but it also thrived on gossip. She could imagine the whispers that would ripple through the room at her declaration.
Despite the fear, a thrill was simmering beneath it, something akin to exhilaration. For the first time in years, Gillian was ready to show the world who she truly was. It was Viola who had made it possible. With her unapologetic confidence and quiet strength, she had swept into her life like a force of nature, peeling back the layers she carefully constructed.
Viola made her question everything she thought she knew about herself, her place in the world, and the limits she’d once accepted. If anyone could make her believe this leap of faith was worth the risk, it was Viola. She felt a pang of shame as she recalled pushing Viola away, letting fear dictate her actions and forcing parts of herself to remain hidden in the shadows.
With another glance out of the window, she could see Viola stepping from the helicopter. Gillian almost ran through to the back hall to greet her, though she quickly stopped by the mirror to check her appearance. Taking a deep breath, Gillian smoothed her floral dress and straightened her shoulders.
She smiled to herself, proud to have found the courage to swallow her pride, voice her true feelings, and ask Viola for the support she needed. That pride swelled even further as Viola entered the hall, setting her bag down and closing the door behind her. She was here — she was hers.
They met halfway, their movements urgent and unspoken. Desperate lips found each other in a passionate embrace; the intensity of Viola’s made Gillian’s head spin with giddy delight.
“How are you?” Viola murmured.
“Nervous,” Gillian admitted.
“Let me stem those nerves for you.”
Her warm lips brushed against Gillian’s neck, sending a shiver rippling through her body, leaving her knees weak. It soothed the whirlwind of thoughts going through her mind.
“Gillian, Vio—” A voice interrupted them, and both women turned toward the doorway. Bridget’s head popped around the edge of the doorframe, her face alight with mischief. “Oh, you found her!” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t mind me. You lovebirds carry on.”
“Lovebirds?” Gillian croaked, her cheeks flaming as Bridget retreated into the hall.
“What’s wrong with lovebirds?” Viola teased.
“Makes us sound like a couple of teenagers.”
Gillian’s breath hitched as Viola stepped closer, pushing her against the wall and grasping her breast as she nuzzled at her neck.
“Would teenagers do that?” Viola asked, her voice low and sultry.
Gillian’s cheeks flushed. “Yes.”
“And this?” Viola asked, sliding her knee between Gillian’s legs, sending a jolt of heat searing through her.
“I should hope not, but I expect so, yes.”
“And this?” Viola’s hand ruffled Gillian’s dress, her fingers grazing the skin of her thigh underneath it.
Despite the growing intensity of her desire, Gillian playfully pushed Viola back. “Not here. Can’t you wait?”
“No, I can’t. I need you now.”
“Our guests are arriving.”
“Let them. I’m taking what I can get whilst I’ve got you.”
Gillian arched an eyebrow, her tone challenging, even as a smile tugged at her lips betraying her amusement. “Taking? Are you indeed?”
“No, sorry. You’re right. You are going to give me everything I want. I won’t need to take anything.”
Her warm breath against Gillian’s wet skin shot a cooling sensation across her neck until Viola’s greedy mouth kissed it again.
“Mmm, cotton, not silk?” Viola remarked, her hand having reached as far as Gillian’s underwear. “It feels very comfortable.”
“Indeed.”
“Do you think you’d feel even more comfortable if they were on the floor?”
A soft moan escaped her lips as Viola’s fingers tugged at the fabric. The sound of a knock on the door to the great hall made them jump apart. It creaked open, and Bridget’s voice floated through.
“Perhaps you could put a lid on it. Everyone has arrived, and the waiters need to come through for more champagne.”
Gillian smoothed down her dress. “I never thought I’d say I’m looking forward to some time away from here.”
“So am I,” Viola laughed, pulling her in for a final kiss before they checked their appearances in the mirror and joined their guests.
At the heart of the packed-out hall, crisp, white linens and vases of pastel tulips adorned the oak banqueting table. The table was a feast, laden with a delectable spread of triangular sandwiches, mini quiches, vibrant macarons, mouthwatering petits fours, and baskets of scones.
“Let’s get this done,” Gillian said with a deep exhale as she turned to Viola. A reassuring smile awaited her, spurring her on.
“I’m right with you,” Viola replied, taking a spoon from the table and handing it to her. “You’ve got this.”
With a long breath to calm her racing heart, Gillian stepped up onto the staircase and chinked her glass, only realising now how sweaty her palms were as she gripped the crystal.
“Can I have everyone’s attention, please? I promise not to keep you from the delicious treats Mrs Johnson has prepared for our tea party, but I can’t let this moment pass without saying a few words. It was well over a year ago I stood here at Jonathon’s wake to announce that changes would be happening on the Kingsford Estate. It may have taken a little longer than anticipated to begin those changes, and even as they begin to happen now, they aren’t quite as I first envisaged. A great deal has changed over the last year."
Gillian’s voice wavered until her gaze fell on Viola. The love shining in her eyes dissolved all her nerves and replaced them with a surge of confidence. She still couldn’t believe someone so extraordinary was hers. The way Viola’s eyes sparkled at her made Gillian’s chest tighten with emotion.
“Everything has changed. I lost my dear manor, only to find it again… but whilst it was lost, I found something dearer to me than I could ever imagine. I found someone special,” she began, her voice steady despite the rush of emotion rising within her. “Someone who has shown me life doesn’t have to follow a single path, and that there can be beauty in doing things differently. Someone who has made every moment brighter simply by being in it.” Gillian paused, her lips curving into a tender smile as she raised her glass. “Viola, happy birthday!”
As the room erupted into applause, Viola stepped up beside Gillian, her cheeks flushing pink. Suddenly blanking on everything she had planned to say, Gillian realised words weren’t necessary in that moment. Without hesitation, she closed the distance between them, pulling Viola into a kiss that she eagerly returned.
The clapping faltered, a momentary hush falling over the crowd as gasps rippled through the room. The pause was fleeting, though, as the applause swelled again, louder and more enthusiastic than before.
Gillian tried to focus on the woman in front of her, but she struggled, listening instead for every sound, filtering for words of disapproval. None came. Slipping her hand into Viola’s she pulled back, finding a beaming smile to match her own.
She continued her speech, finding her legs were quivering from the adrenaline pumping around her.“I hope she comes to realise that now she is part of Kingsford, she will never be lonely.”
“Hear, hear,”Louisa and Elouise shouted, clapping enthusiastically at the front of the crowd.
“Viola leaves for a European tour shortly, and I will be going with her.”
More gasps echoed around the hall.
“Don’t get too excited. I will be back, and nothing at Kingsford will change. I have been repeatedly assured life will go on without me, though I’m yet to be convinced. I will leave you in the competent hands of our dear Bridget. I have every faith in her. My rock and my loyal friend for thirty-five years.”
“Over thirty-five years,” Bridget shouted from the front of the crowd, much to everyone’s amusement.
“Yes, thank you, Bridget,” Gillian replied dryly, realising her eyes were beginning to moisten. “To finish, I’ve added a circular walking route around the outskirts of the estate so even if the manor has an event, anyone who wishes to enjoy its parkland can. I’ve even added a few benches to offer…” She was about to say ‘rest points’, and although factual considering the average age of Kingsford’s residents, she finished with, “Reflection points. Crafted from the finest teak, these sculptures capture the landscape of the South Downs and its wildlife in intricate detail. We have our local artist, Arte Tremaine, to thank for them,” Gillian announced with a gracious nod in Arte’s direction, as she spotted her and Charlotte at the front of the group. “She has worked for several local celebrities, including Beatrice Russell.” An excited hum of reactions rippled through the crowd. “Now I’ve kept you long enough, so bon appétit!”
As the hall filled with a lively buzz of conversation, Gillian’s grip on Viola’s hand tightened as she led her down the staircase towards Arte and Charlotte, who were mid-discussion.
“I told you they were a couple — ” Arte’s voice cut off abruptly as Gillian gave a deliberate cough, eyebrows raised. Arte’s cheeks flushed. She quickly recovered, flashing a mischievous smile in their direction. “Sorry. We had a small bet on — "
“Well, less so a bet since we both agreed that if you weren’t already a couple when we saw you, you very soon would be,” Charlotte clarified with a grin.
“It turns out you were both right then,” Viola said, kissing Gillian’s cheek.
It filled Gillian with warming confidence as her eyes darted around the hall to gauge people’s reactions. She scanned the faces of those nearby, bracing herself for murmurings or side glances only to find no one was even looking at them. Charlotte’s voice pulled her attention back.
“I can’t thank you enough for discovering that gem of a painting, Viola. I can’t tell you how it feels to have it in my collection.”
“You are more than welcome. If it wasn’t for Arte spotting it, I expect it would still be hanging there unnoticed.”
“It certainly wouldn’t,” Gillian remarked stiffly, adding with a playful tone, “It would be back in the attic where it belongs.”
Viola shook her head, a playful grin spreading across her face. “Forgive Gillian. She’s a bit uncultured when it comes to art.”
Gillian’s mouth twisted as if to protest until the look Viola gave her softened it into a smile.
“The wait to hear back if it was what I thought it was nearly killed me,” Arte interjected. “It was one of the most pleasurable yet nerve-racking moments of my life.”
“Even if her instincts are never wrong when it comes to art,” Charlotte added, lifting their conjoined hands to her mouth and placing a kiss on her wife’s hand.
“Thank you for your generous final bid,” Gillian said, nodding to Charlotte. She recalled the moment when Charlotte, clearly frustrated with the meagre bid increments, had added a cool million to silence the competition — and the entire room. Gillian had nearly fallen off her chair again. “I didn’t expect it to go for quite so much. They said without the provenance it may have affected the price.”
“It’s worth every penny, I assure you. I judged it on its own merits, with the dramatic feminist style, subject matter, and strong female character. The CR stamp was the icing on the cake. It was going in my collection at whatever price. I can’t believe it was in your attic. Have you any idea where it came from?”
Gillian shook her head. “I remember my late husband returning home with them shortly after he sold off the last piece of Kingsford’s arable land. I was furious and wanted them gone. I told him I threw them away and we never spoke about them again.”
“Well, it has been a welcome addition to my growing collection, which incidentally will be displayed at the Courtauld Gallery shortly. I’m showcasing a selection of emerging female artists and historical works. At the heart of it all will be the pièce de resistance, Justitia by Artemisia Gentileschi. You should come and see it if you can ever tear yourself away from this place, Gillian.”
“Oh, she can,” Viola said, her eyes shining. “She was in London not long ago, and as she’s declared in front of everyone, she’s coming with me in a few days for my European tour. So, no backing out now.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Gillian confirmed as Viola’s arm threaded through her own. “First Paris, then Monaco. I’m rather looking forward to it.”
“Monaco?” Charlotte questioned. “We’ll be heading there ourselves soon to enjoy my mother’s villa while she’s away.”
“We find that’s the best time to enjoy it,” Arte smirked.
The comment hung in the air before they all dissolved into laughter.
“I’m performing at the Opéra de Monte-Carlo,” Viola explained, “inside the casino.”
Charlotte’s eyes brightened. “I know it well; my stepfather, Baptiste, owns the casino.”
“I’ll have my agent send you some VIP passes then.”
“Wonderful, thank you,” Charlotte replied.
“Would you like to see around the house?” Viola offered.
Arte’s face lit up.
Viola hesitated, biting her lip. “Oh… I forgot it’s not my house anymore.”
“See how easy it is to forget?”Gillian teased.
Viola nudged her with a playful smile. “I know the owner intimately , and she won’t mind if I show you around.”
“She won’t,” Gillian confirmed.
As Viola led the two of them away, the nearby sound of the major’s voice rose just enough to carry. “The women are getting all the good ones these days. I can’t think why.”
As Gillian spotted him, she could see him twirling the ends of his moustache.
“Hopefully, Viola will soften her up a bit,” Mrs Hawkin’s voice came from beside him.
She glanced up to the staircase, where Viola was directing Arte and Charlotte to the first floor, only to find her looking back with an amused glint in her eye. Her smile broadened into a mischievous grin, making it clear she’d heard every word. With a wink, she was gone.
Gillian’s lips twitched despite herself. With Viola beside her, the judgement of others mattered a little less. Mingling through the crowd, trying to hold her head high, she spotted the reverend.
“Ah. I was hoping to bump into you.”
The reverend turned, startled, and took a step back as though bracing himself for an ambush. She noticed how his expression shifted from wariness to politeness.
“Might I pop over to the rectory tomorrow? I have a small project I’d like your opinion on. It has to do with the church bells. They’ve been silent far too long, don’t you think?”
The reverend blinked.
“With me leaving in a few days,” she continued, brushing aside his hesitation, “I may not be at a committee meeting for some time. So I thought it best to leave you with a cheque to cover the costs. You can manage the arrangements, I’m sure. I thought it would be lovely to hear them ringing again for Christmas.”
At that, his face lit up, warmth replacing his earlier hesitations. “Oh, yes, of course,” he said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.
“Wonderful. I’ll pop by tomorrow, then.”
Not wishing to linger, she disappeared back into the crowd, which to her delight appeared to still hold no interest in her or her news. With her stomach more settled, she made her way to the buffet table, where she discovered Bridget scooping some strawberry jam on top of her clotted cream. Biting back the urge to point out that the jam should go first, she approached her.
“I meant what I said,” she began. “You are my rock, Bridget. You always have been. I’m sorry if you ever — if I ever made you feel like anything else.”
Bridget squirmed and shrugged as her cheeks pinked. “You should be proud of yourself. Your speech was delivered beautifully.”
She was proud of herself, and she almost wished she’d made it sooner rather than fretting for months about the villagers’ reactions.
“No one seems to care.”
“Why would they? What’s changed except you have a new partner?” Bridget topped her plate off with two pink macarons and casually added, “Mrs Johnson has put on a marvellous spread. The villagers all agree. I was thinking we could hold a regular social event here, like an afternoon tea, maybe once or twice a month. It would be an opportunity for those who don’t go to church to socialise a bit more.”
Gillian couldn’t help smiling at the woman. Bridget had been right all along, but rather than gloating about it, she casually changed the subject instead.
“That’s a lovely idea. I’ll leave the particulars to you. I know you can take care of everything. I’m not saddling you with too much, am I? What with Agatha to keep an eye on and Dudley to deal with every day?”
“I have the vet’s number in my favourites, not that I’ll need it. I’ve pinned your instructions for Dudley to the stable wall, and I’m sure Agatha will instruct me as to her exact requirements. Everything is under control,” Bridget assured her.
“I know. I believe in you. You learnt from the best after all.”
Bridget grinned. “Ah, there’s the Gillian we know and love.”
“I’ve still got it, don’t worry. I don’t want to lose her completely. Hannah, my hairdresser, recently lost her horse, so she’s agreed to ride Dudley whilst I’m away.”
“Good, that bit I can’t do. Everything will be easier to manage from the lodge, and by the time my cottage has finished being renovated, you’ll be back.”
“She will be,” Viola said, suddenly appearing beside her. “You can’t take Kingsford out of Gillian, but you can take Gillian out of Kingsford — if only briefly.”
“And strapped into a helicopter.” Bridget chuckled.
Gillian placed her arm around Viola’s waist, pulling her into her side as she looked adoringly into her eyes. “There was nothing worth leaving for, until now.”
Viola washed her hands in the kitchen sink. Taking a hand towel, she dried them as she wandered over to the window and admired the familiar view. It felt good to be back in the manor, and by Gillian’s side — in the open. She’d missed the manor and Kingsford more than she realised she would.
Gillian appeared quietly by her side; she hadn’t heard her enter. “The last of the guests have left. Bridget and Mrs Johnson have insisted on clearing up. Shall we go for a quick walk before we lose the light? I need to clear my head, and I have a surprise for you. Well, more of a birthday present.”
“A present? Then lead on.” Viola smiled, excited to see what Gillian had in store for her as she followed her into the back hall. Her eye caught her bag by the door, reminding her of a task she needed to carry out. Taking a deep breath and knowing there wouldn’t be a perfect time to ask this of Gillian, she said, “I wanted to… would it be okay with you if I were to scatter Mum’s ashes here? I wanted to do it when I owned the place, but I wasn’t ready, and then, as you know, events took a turn. Now it feels right, and I don’t want to leave her suffocating in a box any longer.”
Gillian gave a small smile, her fingers deftly pulling on her boots as she met Viola’s gaze. “Of course it would be okay.”
Viola exhaled in relief. “Thank you. It means a lot to me to finally put her to rest. I brought her with me from London.” Viola bent down and rummaged in her bag, extracting a box.
“Could I suggest a suitable place?” Gillian offered. “I’ve been doing a bit of rearranging outside.”
“Of course.” Viola followed Gillian outside and along the path to Hen’s bench. She noticed the shape was different; in fact, it was an entirely different one and made of metal.
“I commissioned Arte to create this for your birthday. I remember you mentioning how much your mother loved the South Downs and the skylarks.”
The new bench featured a backrest with two skylarks in flight, their wings gracefully arched as if captured mid-dance, set against the rolling hills of the South Downs.
“It’s beautiful, thank you. Mum would love that Arte made this for her.”
“She left a space for you to add a plaque or an engraving if you prefer.”
Viola wiped away a tear, her mind already turning over the words she might choose to honour her mother.
“How about spreading her ashes here?” Gillian asked softly. She gestured towards the parkland before them, where the manicured lawn gave way to the sprawling wild meadow blanketing the hill down to the stream.
“It’s perfect,” Viola whispered in reply.
With a nod of encouragement from Gillian, Viola stepped off the path onto the soft lawn and walked a short way down the slope. The meadow was alive with spring blooms; their vibrant colours popped amongst the long, green grass as it swayed and rustled softly in the wind.
She lifted the lid of the box, her fingers trembling as she opened the bag inside. With her arms stretched out, she tilted it, letting the ashes fall. The wind caught them at once, carrying them out over the meadow and weaving them through the grasses and flowers. Some fell onto the lawn; others flew high into the sky until nothing was left.
Viola sniffed back her tears, her heart aching as she murmured, “Goodbye, Mum.” The words dissolved into the wind, carried away to join the ashes.
Her thoughts drifted back to the day she first collected the ashes. She couldn’t imagine then a time when she’d willingly let go of this tangible connection to her mum. Clinging to the last remnants of her had been the only way she believed she could still feel her presence. Closing the lid on the empty box, she paused, uncertainty washing over her at the unexpected sense of peace she now felt.
She made her way back up to the bench where Gillian waited, arms open. Viola stepped into the embrace, and her trembling body relaxed as tears streaked her face.
“Are you okay?” Gillian asked, holding her tight.
Viola pulled back to meet her gaze, nodding as she wiped her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. “Yes,” she answered softly.
Gillian reached into her pocket and handed her a handkerchief.
Viola took it with a grateful smile, dabbing at her tear-streaked cheeks. “I’ll miss her every day,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion, “but I have you, and I want to focus on what I have, not what I don’t — as much as I can.”
“You do have me,” Gillian reassured her.
Viola felt another comforting embrace envelop her, love overflowing from every part of her being.
“And, as I always said,” Gillian continued, “I’m not going anywhere. Now, come and sit.”
“Where’s Hen’s bench?” Viola asked, taking Gillian’s hand as she sat beside her. It was comfortable, if a little colder than its predecessor.
“The gardeners are giving it some much-needed attention, and then I will retire it into the lodge garden. It’s a little more secluded there; it will make for a peaceful place to sit when the manor is rented out. I want our guests to have as much privacy as possible.”
“Privacy you wouldn’t afford me,” Viola sniffed with amusement.
“Do you wish I hadn’t sat here?”
“Of course not,” Viola admitted with a smirk, which deepened into a smile as she caught the self-satisfied look on Gillian’s face.
“Well then.”
“Is this why you insisted on visiting me in London instead of me coming here?” Viola said, tracing her hand along the smooth arm of the bench.
“Yes, I didn’t want the surprise ruined before your birthday.”
“Everything about today was perfect. Thank you.”
“You are very welcome. It was a good day for me too.”
They leaned back against the bench, sitting in silence, fingers entwined as the sun gradually disappeared behind the church.
Viola took comfort in knowing that, although her mum had never lived at Kingsford, her spirit was here — home again in the South Downs she had loved so dearly. This was where her journey had begun, where her roots lay, and where she would remain. Giving her mum this final gift brought her a sense of peace.
“We should go before we’re surrounded by darkness,” Gillian said. “I still need to bed Dudley down.”
“I’ve missed him,” Viola replied, rising to her feet, eager to see the gentle giant again.
Gillian smiled. “We’ll have to resume your riding lessons.”
“I’d like that. And I’d love for us to ride together again. I particularly enjoyed that.”
“Oh, I wonder why,” Gillian teased.
Their eyes met, smirks curving their lips at their shared memory.
As they reached the back door to the manor, Viola pulled away from Gillian. “I’ll grab my bag.”
Once inside, she left the small box on the hall table, quietly hopeful Mrs Johnson would clear it away. It was only a box, yet she felt silly for feeling attached to it for what it once held. The idea of throwing it away herself was too much, though, even if she knew it was irrational.
Stepping outside with her bag in hand, she found Gillian was waiting for her, her silhouette framed by the warm glow of the setting sun.
“How do you think your speech went?” Viola asked with curiosity. “Was it as scary as you expected it to be?”
“A bit of a non-event, wasn’t it?”
“Mmm,” Viola agreed. “Everyone appeared initially shocked, but then no one seemed to care.”
“Maybe they were more surprised I could capture a beauty like Viola Berkley than by the fact we are both women.”
Viola linked arms as they walked. “Elouise and Louisa were certainly cheering us on. And Bridget, our biggest champion.”
“Seems so. She is moving into the lodge whilst I’m away. I’ve prioritised upgrading her cottage; the last owner was a little remiss in its upkeep.”
“Hey, I upgraded your precious manor,” Viola snarked, nudging Gillian as they entered the stables.
“And what a good job you did, too, especially with the size of the bath in the master suite.”
“There’s definitely room for two, not that I’ve tried,” Viola said before quickly adding, “I’m willing to find out.”
“Perhaps we should check before we leave. I’m sure I have a tape measure somewhere?”
“Very funny,” Viola said, giving her a nudge. “We’ll be testing it out naked and filled with bubbles.”
“Not too many bubbles, I hope. We wouldn’t want them ruining the view.”
Viola's lips curved into a sly smile; she’d never felt so eager to take a bath before.
Dudley was stretching his head out of his stall, eager to greet them as they approached.
“Hey, Dudley, I’ve missed you.” Viola rubbed his nose as he blew through his nostrils at her. “I’ll be sad to leave again in a few days.”
“We’ll be back soon enough,” Gillian reassured her. “I was hoping that once your tour is over you would make this your base… your home. I know the lodge is rather cosy for two, but I hope we can make something work. There are plenty of rooms in the manor if you need space to work. The last owner had the gall to leave a grand piano behind, which I suppose you could use.”
“Did she?” Viola recoiled in faux horror. “How rude. If only she had left a priceless painting instead.”
Gillian smiled. “What I’m trying to say is Kingsford is as much yours as it is mine. I hope you know that — even if you did abandon it.”
“You abandoned the manor first.”
“I was forcibly removed against my will. It’s different to jumping into a helicopter and flying off.”
Viola grinned; she’d missed their playful teasing. “I was forced to leave, too, by my feelings for this hot, sexy woman I fell in love with, but now that she’s all mine, I guess I could find a way to live with her.” Viola stroked Dudley’s soft neck as Agatha appeared from nowhere and brushed against her leg. “You and I could brand ourselves as the ‘Ladies of the Lodge’.”
“I think I’m happy being just Gillian.”
“‘Just Gillian’ has a ring to it, I suppose.” Viola grinned and pulled a frowning Gillian toward her, placing a kiss on her lips before she could protest.
THE END