Jane returned alone first. She was breathless.
“I wanted to make sure all was well before bringing the girls,” she declared the moment the door was shut behind her.
Elise smiled faintly.
Jane studied her more closely then, proving to be as sharp-eyed as ever. “Oh, my dear.”
She pulled Elise into an embrace.
“I am very tired,” Elise said truthfully, “but thankfully, it is over.”
Jane’s gaze softened. “Is it?”
“Yes,” Elise replied, and for that moment at least, made herself believe it. “You need not worry. The girls may return.”
“Is Mr. Leigh still here?”
Elise kept her back to the writing desk as she answered. “He has returned to London. His father has died.”
Jane made a small, sympathetic sound, as if she understood more than Elise wished her to. Jane hesitated as though about to speak but did not press for details. Elise knew that would come later. Closing her eyes briefly, she responded, “Indeed.”
Blake woke not long afterwards.
Elise was with Cook in the kitchen when Sophie came running, cheeks flushed with excitement. “Ma’am—he be awake! He be asking for water and something stronger than broth.”
Cook snorted. “Men,” she said. “Near death one hour and demanding brandy the next.”
Elise followed Sophie back to Blake’s room at once. He lay propped against pillows, his face still grey with pain but his eyes clearer than they had been since she had found him. When he saw her, his mouth curved into something like a smile.
“Looks like I be ’ard to kill,” he rasped.
She sat beside him and took his hand, offering warmth and reassurance. “Thank God.”
He squeezed her fingers weakly. “I heard shouting… and boots… and then nothing.”
“It is over. Holt has been taken,” Elise told him quietly. “The ledger is recovered.”
Blake’s eyes closed in relief. “Good. Then Charles—” His voice broke. “Then he didn’t die for nothing.”
Elise swallowed. “No.”
Blake studied her face. “And the man? The one who helped me?”
“Mr. Leigh,” she said, choosing the name carefully even now. “He helped us, but has now returned to London.”
Blake grunted. “I reckoned as much. Men like him never stay where they are needed.”
Elise did not correct him. Some truths were too close to the bone to be handled safely.
By the time the girls returned—wrapped in warm clothing, chattering, carrying baskets and news from the village—Belair House began to feel like itself again. The sound of young voices filled the corridors, shoes scuffed on the stairs, and laughter echoed from the courtyard. Life, indomitable and unaware, rushed back into the spaces danger had vacated as if nothing had ever happened.
Elise stood in the doorway and watched them, a familiar ache swelling in her chest. This was what she had chosen. This was what she would continue to choose, no matter what temptations of another life flickered before her.
Late in the afternoon, the Admiral arrived, his cane tapping decisively and Mrs. Grealey fussing at his elbow.
“The roof is sound,” he announced at once. “I see no reason to abandon my house merely because it attempted to fall on my head.”
Elise smiled. “I would never suggest such a thing.”
