Epilogue
The old house by the sea was quiet. It was very late, and its inhabitants, all women apart from the elderly gardener, were, presumably, sleeping peacefully.
The shutters were in place downstairs, the bedchamber curtains securely drawn upstairs, and not a glimmer of candlelight showed outside.
But the moon was almost full, laying down a silver path across the deserted bay, and it was quite easy to see one’s way, especially out on the pale strand exposed by the low tide.
It had been raining earlier, and it was still unseasonably cold, but the clouds had cleared now.
A figure in a long, heavy coat crossed the beach swiftly and surely, and then slowed a little, coming to the foot of the steps that led up to the garden. The mossy bricks were slippery, uneven in places too, but the mysterious visitor mounted them without difficulty.
Turning towards the outbuildings, the figure – it was quite impossible to say if it was a man or a woman, though one might naturally assume it must be a man, out so late and alone – made their way into the stable, which was freshly swept and pleasant-smelling, to someone who cared for horses.
There had been several hacks and carriage horses here once; there was only one now, and the grey stirred sleepily as he heard an unexpected footstep, and pecked a little at his straw.
But he made no further sound of alarm, and the entrance the trespasser sought was not in his stall, close to the front, but in the furthest one.
This was a dark, inconvenient corner even in full daylight, and would always be the last to be used unless the stables were quite full.
The people who had designed this secret way in and out of the house two hundred years ago and more, in peril of their lives, had thought of such things.
A light was struck, a stub of candle from a tinderbox, and then a soft, low creak could be heard, as of an old key turning in an old lock, and after a moment, the flickering gleam vanished and peace was restored.
It was only a short while later, perhaps five minutes, that the visitor gained his or her objective.
Inside the Tudor house, on the first floor, a panel swung open silently in the angle of a chimneypiece and the intruder stepped out into a dark chamber.
This too presented no problems; there was little furniture to be tripped over, and no accidents occurred at this time of utmost danger.
Nobody woke; nobody cried out in dismay.
A few steps, a rustle of fabric, and then a soft voice, drowsy, sensual, and entirely unsurprised. ‘You came…’
‘Of course I did. How could I resist? Did you doubt me?’
‘Never, but it’s very dangerous. If anyone should see or hear you…’
‘No one has seen or heard me, and I’ll be gone by morning, and nobody will be any the wiser. Besides, it adds a certain spice, don’t you think?’
No speech in answer, just a laugh that turned to a gasp.
A while later, Alistair took Cecilia’s hand in his, and raised it to his lips.
‘A year has passed, my dearest love,’ he said.
He was confident in her affection – he had every reason to be – but this was an important moment for the two of them, and his voice as he spoke was, he could hear, a trifle unsteady.
‘I know it has,’ she replied, stretching languorously in his embrace and then wriggling still closer to him, warm, naked and wonderful. ‘A great deal has happened in that time.’
‘Indeed. Bonaparte has fallen at last, but bugger Bonaparte and all his lost armies. It’s freezing cold this spring, except in your arms and in your bed, it rains all the time, the world might be ending, but I don’t care for any of that.
All I care about is this: you are a free woman now the year has expired, and I wonder, what will you do with that freedom, madam? ’
She laughed and kissed him, briefly but with the promise of more.
‘That’s easy to answer, sir. I shall ask you to marry me, Major Alistair Bartrum.
I do not know where we will live together, but we will sort it out between us; we are lucky enough to have a choice.
I think it is high time I made an honest man of you, in bed and out of it.
Will you talk to Mr Drinkwater, and have him read the banns on Sunday, once we have told our families? Will you marry me?’
‘Yes, Miss Constantine, I will marry you. With all my heart and soul, I will.’
‘And body, don’t forget that.’
‘I could never forget that,’ he told her, pulling the covers up over them both. ‘And if I was at all inclined to, you would be sure to remind me. But I think Mrs Albery would want us to celebrate this momentous occasion in some special way, don’t you, my love?’
‘No question,’ she said against his lips. ‘Oh, my darling, no question at all.’