And then, a muffled roar followed by, “So good, so good.”
Erasmus dipped his head to kiss her lips with the utmost tenderness as he continued to thrust through the seed he’d poured into her.
“You’ve done so well, Amy, my love. So very well.”
She basked in his praise and care, thanking whatever invisible compass or hand of Providence had directed her to the barn of the most loving man in all of Oxfordshire.
Christmas, One Year Later
Epilogue
Christmas, 25 December 1884
St Laurence’s Church, Warborough, Oxfordshire
“And there’s where my mother is,” said Thea, gesturing to the headstone that marked the place in the churchyard where they had buried Eleanor and her unborn babe. “Let’s go say hello.”
Phineas toddled after his older sister, thoroughly captivated by everything she did and said. When she placed her hand on the carving of an angel, he copied her and repeated select words from Thea’s memorized biography of the woman she’d only known for the briefest time.
“When you mentioned traveling abroad to bring your first wife’s remains home, I’ll admit that I had my doubts,” said Mr. Quartermaine, the village vicar, looking on at the chatteringchildren in the churchyard when he came to stand next to Erasmus. “I wondered if I’d pushed you too hard and fast into your current marriage. Worried that you might cling to the past and forget to enjoy the present.”
Erasmus leveled him a wry look.
“I see I was wrong,” said Mr. Quartermaine, shaking his hand. “Congratulations are in order.”
Beside him, Amy glowed with good health, her lovely winter cloak hiding the blossoming midsection that caused more than one parishioner to mist up with delight. The Mangevileyns were not only clearly in love; they were expecting a new baby.
“And how are you faring, my dear? Not too sick?” asked Mrs. Quartermaine, the vicar’s wife. She looked between the married couple with a sense of pride, vastly pleased that her meddling had paid dividends.
“Only in the mornings,” said Amy, unable to contain her excitement. “And only on some days. The baby is being a good little lass or fellow, and he doesn’t trouble me too much.” She rested her hand atop the cloaked swell that had given their household great joy already.
“Perhaps a girl this time?” asked Mrs. Quartermaine, her eyebrows raising and lowering as she prattled good-naturedly.
“Oh, but we already have one of each,” said Amy, patting her swollen belly. “Maybe a sheep or goat just to even the score.”
Mrs. Quartermaine burst into laughter and wished the expectant parents well before wandering off to greet a pensioner who assisted with the organ on Sundays.
“I fear your big news is the talk of the churchyard today, Mrs. Mangevileyn,” her husband said when they had a break between well-wishers.
“I rather think it’sourbig news, Mr. Mangevileyn. After all, you had a rather big role in the project.”
“Ratherbig, am I?” he asked under his breath, turning a sly eye on his wife.
“Mama! Phineas tried to bite the angel wings!”
“Oh dear,” said Erasmus, heading off to collect his much too curious son.
Theodosia halted just before Amy, always mindful of the growing bump and careful not to jostle it. She rested her head and hand against the swell as if to hear if her new sibling had anything to say yet; she was impatiently waiting for Phin to begin his Latin and Greek studies and hoped this baby would emerge knowing both already.
“How do you find the baby today?” asked Amy, stroking her daughter’s hair affectionately.
“Already has more sense than Phin,” said Thea grumpily, not pleased at her little brother’s tendency to stick anything and everything in his mouth.
“Well, your papa is going to have to talk to Phineas on the way home about that. We can’t have him eating Christmas crackers, can we?”
***
After tucking both children into their beds, reading stories, and placing new toys within reach, Erasmus closed the door to the bedroom.
