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“Leave? To go back to Redcliffe, you mean?” she said. The assembly was not at an end yet, surely.

“It is a beautiful night,” he said. “We could walk awhile before going home. The lake is lovely in the moonlight. Shall we take a look?”

It sounded improper at best, dangerous at worst. What would people think?

“Yes,” she said.

She told her mother she was leaving. Mama merely looked closely at her and then nodded. Matthew, slightly behind her, depressed one eyelid before raising it again and bidding Stephanie good night.

Either no one saw them leave the rooms and then the inn, or everyone did. Stephanie did not look to see. And it did not matter, did it? She was twenty-six years old. She was not answerable to anyone except that nebulous entity called society. She kept her eyes on the floor ahead of her, her arm linked through Bertrand’s, and let him lead her out and in the direction of Redcliffe. They turned onto the driveway this time. On many nights it would no doubt be pitch black, what with the nighttime sky and all the trees to either side, and almost impossible to walk along without a lantern to light the way. This was an unusually light night, however, more like twilight or early dawn, though it was neither.

“I am coming back here, you know,” he said, breaking the silence. “To stay.”

“Not Elm Court?” She looked at him in surprise.

“It was a refuge,” he said. “I realize that now. My father had been established here with Viola for a few years by the time I came home from Oxford. Everything was different. I had forgiven him for the past before I went and meant it. But simple forgiveness turned out to be not enough. I found myself harboring a lingering bitterness and distrust and resentment. This had been my home and Estelle’s for a few years before he came. He felt like an impostor. I was uncomfortable here, and I persuaded Estelle to go back home with me. Back to Elm Court, that is. I loved it there. It was like a balm to my soul. I still love it. But I have realized something since I came here a few weeks ago. Two things, actually. Perhaps three. This is home. This is my present and my future, by both duty and inclination. I love my father. I mean really love. Perhaps even more important, I like him. I want him close. Twice since I came here I have spent a few private late-night hours in the library with him. They felt so right. I want more of it. And this is where I want to bring my wife. It is where I want to raise my children. I want to experience family.”

“I do not know Elm Court,” Stephanie said. “But I do know you are loved here. By your father and Viola and by all your neighbors.”

“Now, if I can only be loved by my wife, I will be entirely happy,” he said, releasing her arm in order to take her hand and lace their fingers.

“I am sure you will be,” she said.

“Are you?” He turned his head to smile briefly at her in the near darkness, but he said no more. They walked onward in silence until they veered off the driveway when the house came into sight and continued diagonally across the east lawn toward the path through the trees to the lake. He stopped when they were close to the water. The dower house across from them was in darkness, backlit by the lighter sky. Moonlight was sparkling on the water to their right.

“Do you still see me as a superior being, Stephanie?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “You are, you know, Bertrand. You are a very good person. As well as a very handsome man.”

“No imperfections?” he said.

“I am determined to find some,” she said.

“And do you still see yourself as inferior to this god who stands by your side?” he said.

“No.” She sighed. “I have not done so for a number of years, except when I am in your presence. I thought it was your perfection that intimidated me.”

“But it was something else?” He turned his head toward her.

“Yes,” she said.

He did not ask what it was. She was not sure she would answer him if he did.

“Shall we stroll along the bank to the wider part of the lake?” he said. “And sit and look at the moonlight for a while?”

“Yes,” she said.

He stopped at the boathouse to pick up one of the blankets, which he tucked beneath his free arm while he laced the fingers of his other hand with hers again.

“The bank is not as narrow as it looks from out on the water,” he said. “There is plenty of room to walk two or even three abreast without fear of the one on the outside toppling in.” He turned his head to grin down at her. “Not that that would be a great problem for you. You are a swimmer.”

“Besides,” she said, “you have very gallantly put yourself between me and the lake. You need not worry, though. If you fall in, I will jump in to rescue you.”

“Will you?” He chuckled. “I am almost tempted to put the matter to the test. However, my valet might resign without notice if I were to turn up with my evening clothes dripping with lake water. I would hate that. Without his ministrations, you might soon discover that I am really very ordinary looking after all.”

“Oh dear,” she said. “I had better not push you in, then.”

After a while they came to a wider stretch of grassy bank, with an unobstructed view of the lake. A wide band of moonlight shimmered across it.