And she followed him, happy despite everything that had happened that morning.
Epilogue
Louisa walked amongthe apple trees, some distance behind her sister and Mr. Trench. The two had grown close over the past few months, confiding in one another but always maintaining a noticeable distance between them. It was obvious to Louisa and Rhys that the two were very fond of one another, but they both appeared hesitant.
“Good God, how long will we watch this back and forth between them, do you think?” Rhys whispered into her ear as he reached for an apple over their heads.
The weather was cool, and the apples were in want of being harvested. That was the exact reason they were out here, along with the Crawfords and a lanky boy from the village named Joe. He had offered his services for a bushel of fruit, and Rhys had accepted. He planned to rent the newly remodeled tenant houses as soon as possible and with the harvest festival being set up for the following week, Rhys was solely focused on retaining tenants. And servants.
Louisa, however, appeared worried.
“I shouldn’t like it to go further if he doesn’t intend to offer for her,” she said. “She’s been through so much heartache already.”
“My love, you needn’t worry about that. Mr. Trench is infatuated with her.”
“Then why hasn’t he made an offer?”
“He’s unsure of her feelings. She can be quite, well, quiet.”
Louisa laughed at his wording, causing Kitty and Mr. Trench to turn. She swallowed, waved, and waited for them to turn back before elbowing Rhys in the arm.
“Do not do that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Be serious, Rhys. Do you think Mr. Trench has good intentions?”
As the man had just asked Rhys’s permission to court his sister-in-law last night, Rhys nodded.
“I do, Louisa.”
She smiled at him, and his insides melted.
“All right then. I believe you.”
Taking her arm into his, Rhys felt a sense of pride swell within him. Two years ago, he had been a bachelor soldier newly returned from war with ten thousand pounds and no direction in life. He had lived at the Lyon’s Den for a few weeks, trying to rid himself of his war winnings, and yet here he was now, married, with a working farm and friends. It was a peaceful existence he had never felt worthy of, but to finally have it was wonderful.
“I received a letter this morning, from Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”
“Bessie?” Rhys said, surprised. “Whatever about?”
“It seems she wanted to know if the curse had been broken.”
“Ah yes, the brooch. Well?”
“You know it has,” she said before frowning. “But that wasn’t the most interesting part of her letter.”
“Oh? What was?”
“Well, she wrote that while the brooch is a lovely piece, it never belonged to her mother.”
“It didn’t?”
“No. She said she had an idea of who it might belong to and that she would see it returned to its rightful owner.”
“Hmm.”
“But if she knew it wasn’t her grandmother’s, I wonder why she took it in the first place.”
