“Bitte,” said Evangeline, smiling as Hilde hurried back for the toast. She poured herself a cup of tea and for several minutes just sat enjoying it as she stroked Louis’s fur.
Richard had taken a house in the Linderhof, not far from the River Limmat. Evangeline had been charmed by the quaint little town, so different to London. They had taken a circuitous and leisurely route from England, winding through the Low Countries and into eastern France before coming within sight of the Alps and following them to Bern and now Zürich. He had teased her about scaling some of the snow-tipped mountains with him, and she had promised to leave him for a Frenchman if he ever suggested such a thing again. He had taken her to see the goldsmith shops his mother’s family owned in Bern, and introduced her to his father’s family of bankers, who were still in Zürich. They had been here now for four months, and it might be the most beautiful place Evangeline had ever seen.
Hilde brought in the post, just delivered. Evangeline’s brows went up as she took out one letter, much creased and marked from its journey. It was from Marion.
She slid it quietly into her lap and waited until Richard was back behind his newspaper to open it. She and Joan had kept in touch, and Evangeline had nearly stopped holding her breath every time one of her niece’s letters arrived. But Joan continued to be in love with her husband, and he continued to give every appearance of reforming into a good husband. In her last letters, Joan had said she was expecting a child, which must have been born by now.
Marion wrote:
Dear Sister,
I have only a little time to write now, forgive me—I will write more later. Joan begged me to write to you at once. This morning she was safely delivered of a fine, healthy son.He is tiny but very loud, to his father’s great pride. I will confide between us, that Lord Burke insisted on being in the birthing room, and quite a scene he caused—encouraging Joan as if she were a fighter in a boxing match, urging her to punch him if the desire should take her! I tried in vain to make him leave, although he did cause Joan to laugh at times, but she refused to let him go and clung to his hand so tightly he was bruised.
It was all rather raucous, but I am completely persuaded of their true love and affection. You know what a relief that is, to me and to George.
In any event, I am writing to ask your blessing, and Sir Richard’s, for the child’s name: Colin Richard. Joan said for months she would have a girl and name her Evangeline, but now it is a boy, and they both wish to know if Sir Richard will consent to this use of his name, and even stand as godfather to the child. I have tried to tell her this is something that must be broached in person, but she is adamant, and begs to know your answer as soon as possible. I enclose a note from Lord Burke to Sir Richard, begging this honor.
Burke says that if Sir Richard does not approve, they will name the child Colin Richmond, which Douglas tells me is in honor of a boxer Burke particularly admires. As a grandmother, I beg you to intercede with Sir Richard and prevent this...
Evangeline was smiling as she finished reading Marion’s letter. “My niece has had a son,” she said.
Richard’s newspaper rustled. “That is excellent news. I trust she and the child are well?”
“Yes.” Evangeline folded the letter. “They wish to name him after you.”
The newspaper came down. He looked at her, brows raised.
“Colin Richard,” she explained. “Colin was Lord Burke’s father. They would like you to stand as godfather as well, if you are amenable.” She handed him the smaller folded note that had been inside Marion’s letter.
Looking startled, he took it. A faint smile curved his lips as he read, then he laughed. “Yes, of course I will. Any child of Burke’s will need a godfather of calm and steady temper.”
“Then we really must visit soon, to meet the child,” she said.
“Of course we must,” he replied, as if he had been on the brink of suggesting that very thing.
She beamed at him. He was so unflappable, this man of hers, with the kindest heart.
He went back to his newspaper, and she read the rest of her letters, including one from Fanny. When Evangeline had told her she and Richard were going abroad together, Fanny had sighed in relief and declared that she couldn’t think of anything better for Evangeline’s battered spirit. “Tell him to show you a real adventure,” she had said, and Evangeline had laughed and replied that being a chaperone had been more than enough adventure for her, and she hoped for a quiet, peaceful journey.
“What a lovely day,” she remarked when she had put the post aside.
“It is. On just such a day, it is beautiful in the mountains.” He inhaled deeply, giving her a wicked look. “Perhaps you have reconsidered mountain climbing?”
She laughed. “No. I have reconsidered something else.”
“Oh?” He put aside the newspaper. “What is that?”
Since they left England, she had allowed people to think her Richard’s wife. It had begun with neglecting to correct a servant who referred to her as such, then to allowing innkeepers and hoteliers to believe he was her husband. In every way that made a husband appealing, he was.
In becoming, in some slight way, Mrs. Campion, it had struck her that all her life, she had borne the name of one man after another who had hurt her—first her father, then Cunningham, and finally Courtenay. Richard had said he was tired of calling her by “that swine’s” name, and she had finally realized she was also tired of hearing it. Just like the shame he had heaped on her with his indifference, his infidelity, and his ignominious death, she was sick of it, and ready to rid herself of the last traces of Court.
Evangeline Campion sounded much better, to her ears. Richard had glanced at her in surprise the first time she allowed it, but never said a word of protest. She knew he also liked the sound of it.
And that, she finally realized, was what marriage should be like.Wouldbe like, with him.
“It strikes me as a fine day to be married,” she said lightly, then darted a quick look at him.
His brows went up. “Married! Who should be the fortunate couple?”
