Epilogue
Munro, March 1817
Baby Nicola layagainst her mother’s breast, sound asleep. Jillian’s eyes began to close. There was nothing like a shared nap to refresh the drowsy duo.
At the edge of her hearing, she detected the soft step of someone entering the room and halting, no doubt unwilling to disturb mother and child. The housekeeper had the afternoon off. And Pen, who was now sharing their home, was out riding, as was still her habit. The thoughtfully quiet presence must therefore be Lewis. Her eyes opened enough to see him hesitate, look back toward the corridor, then bite his lip.
“Is something the matter?” Jilly asked, though the answer was obvious.
“My mother is here,” he said quite suddenly, as if he needed to get the words out before he lost courage. “She wishes to speak with you.”
Jillian’s heartbeat accelerated. She had neither seen nor heard from either of Lewis’s parents since their return to Munro. Nicola was already a month old. What had changed? Was Lord Bradford unwell? Was his wife here to blame them for it?
Nicola stirred, her sleep disturbed by the tension flooding Jillian’s body.
“It is not like her to break with etiquette,” pondered Jillian. “Isn’t it the done thing to write and announce one’s intention to visit? These matters are usually important to her.”
“I know it is unexpected.” He seemed to waver. “I can send her away…”
“But you don’t want to.”
Lewis’s shoulders drooped. “She looks… worn down.”
“The proud and fierce Lady Bradford? Worn down?” Jillian wanted to feel sympathy, but nine months of being ignored had not silenced the knowledge that this woman had believed her to be verging on madness.
“Will you see her?” asked Lewis. “Please? I can stay. If she behaves badly, I will send her on her way at once.”
Her husband’s face was so woeful, Jillian could not possibly sayno. There was almost nothing she wouldn’t do for him. He had given her everything she needed, fought everyone and everything for her. Now it was her turn. “If there is any chance she wants to do right by you, I am willing to try.”
Lewis lit up at these words. He disappeared quickly behind the door. Jillian could hear him tell the footman, “Send her up.”
He waited out of sight on the landing. Jillian, too, waited, curiosity and apprehension vying for supremacy. Their baby settled once more, unaware of the momentous scene that unfolded around her.
The door swung open and Lewis entered the room with his mother leaning on his arm. It was strange to see her no longer wearing black. Had Philip really been gone so long? Despite her moss-green dress, the matriarch seemed as much in mourning as ever. Her hair, previously streaked with gray, was now entirely white and many more lines crisscrossed her face. Lewis had not been exaggerating. Shedidlook worn out.
However, the moment Lady Bradford saw little Nicola, her face softened. She took a step forward toward hergranddaughter, but Lewis indicated a settee farther from his wife and babe. Lady Bradford, clearly disappointed, complied and sat where she was told.
Silence lingered awkwardly. Lewis looked from his wife to his mother and back, but neither initiated the conversation. He sighed.
Jillian’s heart went out to him. None of this was easy for any of them. Lady Bradford had called on them and should say what was on her mind, but she was not good at apologies. Jillian was the hostess and was obliged to make her welcome, but she did not know if their guestwaswelcome yet. And Lewis was caught in the middle, as always.
Across the room, their visitor’s eyes were locked on the bundle of sweetness in Jilly’s arms. Honestly, it was obvious why she was here—whether she deserved it or not.No, thought Jillian,whatever I decide to do now, I do for Lewis, not her.
Having made up her mind, Jilly stood carefully, scooping Nicola up and cradling her head. She crossed the space between herself and Lady Bradford and asked, “Would you like to hold her?”
The woman whom Jilly had only ever known as stern and unbending now melted into doting benevolence. Her arms reached out eagerly to receive her grandchild. Her only grandchild.
“She has your eyes,” she told Lewis as Nicola opened them at the unfamiliar touch of her not-mother. “And your hair.” She looked up at Jilly.
“Well, the beginnings of it, at any rate,” said Jilly with half a smile. “She really is only a downy, little chick at present.”
“You will need a son, too,” said Lady Bradford automatically. “Oakwoods must have an heir.”
Jillian pinched her lips shut. Not everything could be undone in a day. Perhaps it never would be. But Lady Bradford hadswallowed her dignity to come. Jillian would allow a little wiggle room, even if it meant simply saying nothing.
“All in good time, Mother,” Lewis cautioned, ready to defend his little family.
Lady Bradford looked up at him as if she had just realized what she had said. “Oh. Oh, yes, of course. This is a good start, certainly. Er… you have done well, Jillian.” The sentiment sounded uncomfortable in her mouth, but she uttered it nevertheless. And Jilly noticed.
