“We shall probably have the ceremony at King’s Chapel where Reed was married. That was a lovely wedding.”
“It was, but yours will be even lovelier,” Claire insisted. “You deserve it. After everything.”
Rose shrugged. She didn’t deserve it any more than the next woman. She counted herself very fortunate to have been loved by not one but by two wonderful men.
“What does your mother say? Is she sad or relieved to be losing her last child?”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way. She hasn’t expressed anything except happiness for me.” Rose considered her mother’s situation. They had talked about it briefly the day before when she’d returned from the Public Garden. “Why? Do you think she’ll be sad?”
Claire looked thoughtful. “Well, that house has become increasingly empty. What will she do in a house that used to hold six and now will hold only one?”
Rose frowned. Had she been selfish in the face of her own impending happiness? Would Eleanor indeed by lonely? Goodness gracious, her mother had never been alone before!
They had closed up two of the bedrooms already, and she and her mother kept one each and one for guests. Rarely, Sophie and her husband, Riley, visited from the west coast with their children. At such times, they opened up another room and the house seemed alive as it had when she was a child.
Rose would have to discuss it with Elise and Reed. Maybe one of them wanted to move their family into the house. More likely, they would suggest selling it. William’s parents had already given him their house for he and Rose to live in after they were married.
She sighed.
“Oh, Rose,” Claire exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to make you melancholy. Let’s go into town and look at dresses.”
“What? This moment?”
“Yes, immediately.”
Rose nodded. “Yes, let’s.”
That night, she would make an effort to speak with her mother and find out her true feelings on the matter of the marriage of her youngest child.
However, over their evening meal, Evelyn seemed positively delighted when she heard the last of her three daughters bubbling about two different dress styles that had caught her eye. They sat at the table alone as they did most nights, each with a glass of wine and with their cook, Emily, providing a light supper.
“The Highlands isn’t far, Mama,” Rose added to the discussion she’d been attempting, imagining setting up her own household in William’s home on Walnut Avenue. “We can go to the opera house on Dudley. Why, I’ll still see you all the time.”
Evelyn laughed. “You won’t see me all the time. Nor should you. Why are you saying this now?” She took Rose’s hand. “Why are you suddenly worrying over me?”
“Not suddenly, Mama. But I am the last to go. I can’t stand the thought of you alone in this house.” At least her mother was fully present and engaged at dinner, not daydreaming or looking out the window into the back garden.
Evelyn looked thoughtful. “I always thought I’d be enjoying these later years with your father, bless his soul. However, I have become used to life without him. I have good friends, and I’m never lonely. Except for Sophie, you’re all still close by.”
Rose nodded. She almost wanted to share how she, too, had lost the man she’d loved, but she knew her experience could be nothing like her mother’s. For over thirty years, her mother had had Oliver before losing him so suddenly to illness, whereas Rose had barely enjoyed half a year with Finn, and only a few weeks married to him.
Besides, there was no point in shocking her mother at this juncture.
“I like Mr. Woodsom,” her mother said unexpectedly.
Rose smiled. “As do I.”
“He will treat you well. I can tell he dotes on you.”
William had indeed shown his adoration and devotion a dozen times over. And Rose felt extremely lucky. The niggling guilt of never having told him about Finn had faded, as with telling her mother and the rest of her family. What point in that now?
A day later, Rose sat fidgeting in Elise’s study. Her oldest sister had decided that she must have a fabulous engagement party, despite the fact that Elise hadn’t had one herself, nor even a proper wedding ceremony.
“We’ll have a small soiree at home,” Rose protested for the umpteenth time.
“Nonsense,” Elise said, brushing aside Rose’s words with a sweep of her hand. “It will be fun for all of us. Or course, it will be at the Tremont where Mr. Woodsom first kissed you.”
Rose blushed. She didn’t know why she’d told her oldest sister about the improper encounter on the stairs. However, instead of being surprised, Elise had smiled at the story with a rather wicked grin. After all, she’d had a more-than-improper encounter with Michael, her husband, before they’d married and had confided in Rose.
