Epilogue #2
Leopold took his father-in-law’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “I only reflect the light she brings to me.”
Gideon gave a nod of approval. He released Leopold’s hand and turned back to Honora. “Congratulations, my darling daughter.”
Honora nodded. “Thank you, Father.”
He touched her shoulder. Honora hesitated only a second before placing her hand on her father’s. Gideon suddenly looked as bright as a beacon. He nodded to Leopold once more before stepping away.
***
The wedding breakfast was small but cheerful. Family and friends filled the ballroom of Belgrave Manor, and for the first time, Leopold wished that all of London could see his home so full of love and joy.
However, there was one person who was not quite as happy as everyone else. Leopold approached a group of guests in time to overhear an important subject.
“I did not cry,” Barnaby said, his voice full of indignance.
“You absolutely did,” Sabina replied.
“I did not.”
“You did,” Martha said, carrying another plate past them.
Barnaby stared after her.
“That is two against one.”
“Then it is settled,” Sabina said.
“I am surrounded by liars.”
Leopold laughed. “You cannot fool me. I saw it for myself.”
Barnaby turned on him with a benign glare. “You are meant to defend me.”
“I would, if what you were saying was true.”
Barnaby looked like he wanted to have a tantrum. But the sparkle in his eye told that he could barely contain laughter. “I was not crying.”
Sabina lifted her glass. “You were.”
“I saw it for myself, my friend,” Leopold said again.
Barnaby looked at Leopold.
“You are fortunate that this is your wedding day,” Barnaby said.
Leopold laughed again.
Martha had made the wedding cake herself without being asked, and it was extraordinary.
Someone told her so.
She cut another slice and pushed it across the table. “I did not ask for compliments.”
“It is very good,” Leopold said.
Honora laughed. “She will not accept praise.”
“She has never needed it,” Leopold said.
Martha pointed the knife at him.
“Eat your cake.”
“Yes, Martha.”
“That is better.”
She walked away.
Honora watched her go. “You surrender very quickly.”
“I have learned that arguing with Martha changes nothing.”
“That is probably wise.”
“I have several sensible philosophies.”
“I am sure you do.”
“Most of them concern Martha.”
Honora smiled.
Across the room, Cecily was back in her grandmother’s lap, perfectly content.
Leopold watched his mother make the smallest adjustment to the baby’s dress. She had done it carefully, without being asked. He looked away before he intruded on a special moment, but not before smiling to himself.
Cecily truly will get the love she deserves, he thought.
That evening, after the guests had gone and the house had quieted, Barnaby found Leopold near the terrace with two glasses of brandy.
“I have a question,” Barnaby said.
“For the tenth time, yes, everyone saw you crying today.”
Barnaby glared at him, thrusting a glass into Leopold’s hands. “You will rue this torment. But I wanted to ask about Isolde. Have you heard word about her?”
Leopold looked at the glass. “She was charged by the magistrate for the abduction two weeks ago. The earl settled the matter before it reached the courts. He paid a substantial sum to the estate and sent her to a distant relative in the north.”
Barnaby nodded in approval. “And London?”
“She is no longer received there.”
“The society pages?”
“Her name disappeared within the month.”
“And the Morning Post?”
“They found a banking crisis.”
Barnaby shook his head. “Remarkable how a single lie can disrupt so many things.”
Leopold shrugged. “A pebble skipped in the lake makes ripples as far as the eye can see.”
Barnaby nodded again. “And the real Miss Redmond? What became of her?”
“I saw to it that she was hired at Belgrave.”
“As Cecily’s nursemaid?”
“Properly this time.”
Barnaby guffawed. “How did Honora manage that introduction?”
“She apologized for the door, the money, and the lie.”
“In that order?”
“In that order.”
“And she forgave Honora?”
Leopold nodded, chuckling. “She told Honora she had been placed in far worse situations and that at least this one came with a good ending.”
Barnaby smiled. “I like her.”
“Honora does too. She said she reminds her a little of Celestine.”
Barnaby nodded once more. “Will you be hiring any more servants?”
Leopold shrugged. “As needed, I suppose. Mrs. Pritchard will be staying on. Martha is promoted to housekeeper. But she insisted that she has a say in finding her replacement.”
Barnaby laughed. “She will keep you waiting forever.”
“I suspect she will.”
After Barnaby took his leave that night, Leopold returned to the old study. He had been looking for a document when he found his father’s letter again.
He took it from the drawer and read it through once more. He understood his father better now than he ever had while the man was alive. He understood the fear behind the decision, the weakness in it, and the cost of living with it for thirty years.
But he also knew that he was further from forgiving his father than he wanted. That both things were true simultaneously caused Leopold the greatest conflict he had experienced. He folded the letter and returned it to the drawer beside the birth record and the other papers. Then, he went upstairs.
He found Honora in the nursery. She stood at the window with Cecily asleep against her shoulder, looking down into the dark garden. Leopold came up behind them and slipped his arms around both of them. Honora leaned back into him. Cecily did not stir.
For a moment, Leopold said nothing. He thought about a Tuesday morning and a basket on the front steps.
He thought about a baby who had grabbed his lapel and refused to let go.
He thought about a woman standing in the entrance hall with her hands kept very still because she had been trying not to let him see how frightened she was.
A service gate.
A village inn.
A bag packed four times.
A woman who had come to take a child and had stayed for everything else.
Honora turned her head.
“What are you thinking about?”
Cecily stirred between them, then settled again.
Leopold turned Honora carefully toward him and kissed her. “About how the most unfathomable set of circumstances brought me the two women who saved me.”
Honora nestled her head against him, sighing. “I believe it was you who saved us.”
Leopold kissed Honora again, his heart racing. “Now there is an argument that I will defend until my dying breath.”
Honora sighed with pure contentment. “It is an argument I will be happy to have with you forever.”
Leopold held Honora a little tighter. The house was quiet. The garden was dark. And his family was in his arms. He looked at Honora, then kissed her again.
Around them, the house settled into silence, the way houses do when the people inside them have finally stopped leaving. And he was not surprised to find that his heart was doing the same.
THE END