Her entire being filled with fierce happiness knowing that they were meant for each other.
Epilogue
Ashmore Hall, Oxfordshire, 1820
“Do stay longer, Birdie!” Lucy pestered her friend. “Philip and Arabella and the children will be here; Katy is coming from the seminary, and you haven’t even met her, have you? And we will have such fun together. Oh, do persuade your husband to stay.”
Birdie hesitated. While she loved the idea of visiting longer with her friends, she also yearned for more time alone with her husband.
The change that had gone through him the last few months was astounding. No longer the reserved, antisocial hermit, he’d turned into an astoundingly talkative socialite who discussed in detail every move and manoeuvre of the Napoleonic wars, most frequently with Philip, who joined in with equal enthusiasm. They were caught up in a string of “Do you remember when?” and discussed every single battle they’d been in together.
After Gabriel had mentioned he’d created a model of the battle, Philip had been eager to create a similar one—right here and right now.
Even more astounding, the Duke of Ashmore had allowed himself to get drawn into the project as well. It appeared he regretted not having been able to join the war. But through his readings of newspapers and discussions with war veterans, he had accumulated a sound basis of knowledge on the Peninsula wars. The three men were inseparable, as they planned on how to build a model that would be three times the size of what Gabriel had in his castle in Scotland. Parts of it would move on their own, Philip had vowed.
After tea, Birdie drew Gabriel aside.
He was reading a missive. “You won’t believe this, Birdie,” he started. “But your brother, it appears, really knows his business when it comes to whisky production.”
Birdie had been sceptical about Freddie’s involvement in the business, but as it had been his idea to begin with, and as anything that he did that was not gambling was to be approved of, she decided to go along with it.
“Merivale—that is, Morley—I can never call him like that, can I? He will always be Merivale to me—has said he can come up with a process that will speed up the production. In fact, he’s suggested to return with us to Scotland. What do you say to that?”
“Oh, Gabriel, that would be wonderful! Arabella is to come with him?”
“As well as the children, it seems.” Gabriel grinned. He was the Merivale children’s favourite person. After an initial shocked glance at his cheek and the expected questions surrounding the injury and whether it still hurt awfully, they soon decided Gabriel was a grand sport. Especially if he was to build another model, as he promised, specifically for them to play with.
“I hate to interrupt you lovebirds,” Lucy said as she approached them, a troubled look on her face. “I need to talk to Birdie.” She also motioned Arabella to follow her to another room.
The three women left together and bustled into an adjacent room.
“What has happened? You look troubled,” Birdie asked.
Lucy handed her a letter wordlessly. It was from Miss Hilversham. Her normally neat and legible handwriting was almost undecipherable.
Birdie read through it and gasped. “It’s Pen! She’s run away!”
Arabella clasped her hand over her heart. “Oh! I seem to have set a terrible precedence. First Birdie, now Pen.”
“It’s me. I started it all.” Lucy wrung her hands. “I somehow put the idea in your heads, didn’t I?”
“Where is she?” Birdie asked.
“She’s gone to London. Alone. That is all Miss Hilversham knows.”
Birdie closed her eyes. “She has gone after that man. Her guardian.”
Arabella gasped. “Are you certain?”
Birdie nodded. “We shared a room, didn’t we? She wouldn’t stop talking about him. You know, there was a time when I thought she’d invented him? He never showed his face. He never came to the seminary. I was certain he never existed.”
“You’re right. He never came to visit her, not once. Nor was she invited to spend the holidays with him. What kind of guardian is that?”
“Yet he paid for her tuition, and once a letter arrived.”
“She slept with the letter under the pillow for half a year.”
Birdie tapped a finger against the letter. “I believe she was—possibly still is—head over heels in love with him.” Her eyes widened as she realised something. “I also believe he was the reason she wanted to retrieve the coin from the wishing well that night.”
