Epilogue
“ L ily!” Mother descended the grand staircase in her Fifth Avenue mansion with more energy and enthusiasm than I remembered. “You’ve come home!”
“Hello, Mother.” I smiled as Ames and I stood in the foyer of the home I once lived in, our hats and gloves not yet removed. “We’ve brought a special visitor from England.”
I took our eighteen-month-old son, Fletcher, from Ames’s arms and held him as Mother crossed the massive foyer.
Fletcher was a smaller version of his father, with dark, curly hair and brown eyes.
We’d continued the Welby family tradition and used a surname from their family tree for Fletcher’s first name.
“The future Duke of Severton, here in my home,” Mother said, her eyes shining. “Oh, Lily, he’s beautiful.”
Fletcher laid his head on my shoulder, bashful at meeting his grandmother.
The trip from England had been blessedly uneventful, but shipboard life had been difficult with a toddler.
Meeting so many new people after spending most of his life in the quiet manor house we’d built not far from the castle had been challenging for him at times.
Ames and I were eager to spend a couple of weeks in New York for Everett and Martha’s wedding, before heading back to England before winter set in on the moors.
I also planned to meet with my editors, who knew my real identity now, and were eager for another novel.
My last release, the one I’d finished after Ames and I were first married, had been a success after massive edits.
I had rewritten the ending, so the heroine ended up with the commoner, and it was exactly what the story needed.
My editors wanted more, but I had not yet decided if I was ready to write again.
Being a wife and mother, building a home, and overseeing the creation of Pickering Castle Resort had been almost more than I could handle.
Perhaps if another idea struck me, I might see where it would go.
“Fletcher,” I said to him, putting my hand on his chubby cheek to soothe him, “this is your grandmama.”
He watched Mother with his large brown eyes but made no move to say hello or greet her in any way.
“He’ll warm up to me,” Mother said with confidence, laying her hand on his back.
“How are you?” I asked her, searching her face for signs of unhappiness. She rarely spoke of Richard, but I could read between the lines of her letters and know that things were not going well.
She gave me a forced smile and said, “As good as can be expected.”
“And where is Richard?”
“At his club. He spends most of his time there now.” She clasped her hands, ready to move on. “We have guests waiting for you in the front drawing room. I hope you won’t be too tired to visit.”
“Are they here already?” It was hard to hide my excitement.
“Yes—though—” Mother paused and looked around, perhaps to see if any of the staff were nearby. “It is a bit awkward, don’t you think, Lily?”
I laid my free hand on Mother’s arm. “If it weren’t for your marriage to Father, would you have lived in this great home and had the opportunities you’ve been given? Molly is no different. She’s made a good match and her station has changed.”
“That’s all fine,” Mother said, whispering, “but she was a maid in this house, Lily. That is what makes it—uncomfortable.”
“Only if we let it.”
We’d brought a governess, a lady’s maid, and a valet with us on our trip and they had entered the house through the back entrance, so it was just Ames, Fletcher, and me who followed Mother into the front drawing room a moment later.
Ames held his hand at the small of my back, his presence easing my nerves, though I knew he was just as uncertain about this meeting as I was.
We’d exchanged letters over the past two years, but this was the first time I had seen the couple since the morning they eloped.
Brant and Molly sat on a brocade sofa, a tea service on the table in front of them, but when we entered, they both rose.
Molly was pregnant—a happy surprise she hadn’t written about—and if I had to guess, I would say she was close to her time.
They were both dressed well and their cheeks were glowing with health.
“Molly!” I exclaimed as I crossed the room, not allowing a moment of awkward hesitation or discomfort. “Look at you! What a wonderful surprise.”
“Your Grace,” Molly said, giving a slight curtsey.
“Please,” I said, hugging her with my free arm. “We are sisters. You must call me Lily.”
Ames stood at the door where I’d left him, and though he and Brant had written, and Ames approved of Brant’s decision, there was a bit of stiffness between them, until Brant stepped forward.
“It’s good to see you again, brother.”
A smile, which these days came quicker and more often, lit Ames’s face as he pulled Brant into a hug. “And you, Brant. You look well.”
Mother stood at the door, a polite smile on her face.
“And look at this handsome young lad,” Molly said, touching Fletcher’s curls as the men spoke in quieter voices. “My, but he looks like a Welby.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” I noted with pride. “And eager he’ll be to know his American cousin.”
Molly laid her hand on her swollen belly, tenderness and love in her gaze. “Cousins. ’Tis still hard to believe some days.”
“You look wonderful. Both of you. New York has agreed with you.”
Mother had written to tell me Brant and Molly were living in the stylish Murray Hill neighborhood, which had once been home to the elite before they started to move to Fifth Avenue.
It was turning into a more middle-class neighborhood, but still respectable and clean.
Brant had taken a job as an agent with J.
P. Morgan & Co. and helped facilitate British investments in American companies.
With his English connections and aristocratic ties, he had been successful in his new role and seemed to be thriving.
It afforded him and Molly a very comfortable and fashionable lifestyle.
Molly glanced at her husband, who was now smiling at her, and the love they shared was unmistakable.
I looked at Ames, pleased to see that he appeared to notice it, as well.
“Shall we have tea?” Mother asked as she approached and the adults took their seats.
Fletcher reached for his papa, and I handed over the growing boy, thankful to have my lap free, since the second child I carried was starting to make him or herself known.
I was five months along and eager to return home before the baby made its appearance.
Though I knew Ames was hoping for another boy, I secretly longed for a daughter.
Pickering House, the home we’d just finished building not far from the castle, was in need of the gentle sweetness of a little girl.
There was much catching up to do, and I was distracted with all the news, until I realized my stepsisters had not joined us.
“Where are Margaret and Addie?” I asked Mother.
At my question, Mother, Brant, and Molly shifted awkwardly as Brant and Molly glanced at each other and Mother lifted her chin—but not her gaze.
“What?” I asked, setting my teacup on the table. “Is something wrong?”
No one spoke for several seconds, then Mother finally said, “There has been . . . a bit of a scandal and I’ve sent Margaret and Addie to Newport to try to distance themselves. It doesn’t hurt that Matthew Schermerhorn is in Newport as well, but . . .” She let the sentence fall away.
I frowned. “What aren’t you telling me, Mother? We’re all family here. We all have each other’s best interests in mind.”
Brant and Molly continued to look uncomfortable as they fiddled with their teacups and didn’t look at any of us.
My pulse picked up speed as I scooted forward on the sofa.
Ames gently laid his hand on mine to calm me.
Mother set her teacup on the table, but it rattled in a telltale way, increasing my discomfort.
“Tell me, Mother, so that I may help.”
“I don’t think you can help, Lily.” She rose and began to pace behind her chair.
“When you married the duke, it seemed all our troubles were behind us. Margaret had a stunning debut and Mrs. Astor invited us to her annual ball. The path was paved for Margaret and Matthew’s trip to the altar.
They made a private agreement, because the Schermerhorns and Astors were hesitant to give their blessing so soon after our triumphant return from England.
Matthew’s parents told him to wait three years to make it official and said that if it was true love and they were meant to be together, their affection for one another would only grow. ”
Mother had hinted at all this in her letters, but I nodded for her to continue.
She wrung her hands as she continued to pace.
“With Margaret’s successful debut behind us, and her all but certain marriage to one of New York’s most prestigious families ahead, I decided it was time for Addie to debut this season.
She has just turned nineteen, a little older than the other girls, but she was not eager to debut last year and, frankly, I wanted to keep the spotlight on Margaret for one more season, trying to prompt Matthew and his family into a proposal. ”
“Go on,” I urged her, knowing most of this. “What has you so upset, Mother?”
Molly watched me closely for my response, telling me that she knew what was coming, and it wouldn’t be good.
“Addie drew a great deal of attention from, well—” Mother let out a breath—“from an undesirable suitor names Damien Baxter. He isn’t beneath her station,” she said quickly as she put up a hand.
“What I mean to say is that he comes from a prestigious family, but—” She pressed her lips together.
“He means to trap Addie in an undesirable marriage.”
“But why?”
“The Baxters have hit hard times, and I think he is after her money.” Mother nodded, as if it was as simple as that.
“And how has he tried to trap her into marriage?”
Mother pressed her hand to her lips and shook her head, unable to answer.