It is often thought that once a danger has passed, the terror of it fades from memory. That was not true for Isabel. Though she did lose her fear of poverty easily enough, she would never forget how close she’d come to making the worst mistake of her life.
She was forever grateful that Harry Vance had not given up.
Epilogue
Over time, Harryand Isabel’s little family did expand just as they’d hoped. And as far as Isabel was concerned, she had not only hoped—she had prayed. Once she’d got a look at Harry’s cousin, to which the estate was entailed, she fairly shuddered at the thought of being left in his charge, with no young baron having arrived.
That horror was not to be, though. There were two boys and a girl, healthy and in high spirits. Their hair colors were a lovely combination of Harry’s dark blond and her auburn—a sandy color with hints of red that glinted in the light. Their personalities, however, were not blending. They firmly favored Harry. They were bold and outspoken and afraid of nothing. It seemed a pinch of Plantagenet blood mixed with a drop of tradesman’s blood was a smashing combination.
Led by their eldest brother, they were charmingly determined over any question they considered to be a matter of some importance. They routinely presented justifications for why they should be awake late into the night or have double-dessert or ride out on their ponies to defeat the kingdom next door, otherwise known as the neighbors. They prosecuted their various cases with all the flair and persistence of an appearance in the Old Bailey.
Harry was a bit of a marshmallow when it came to his children, so these prosecutions were generally presented to him in the library, after their governess had been eluded.
Isabel was delighted with her children. She was delighted with her Harry. She was rather delighted with everything.
She had almost given up happiness for a dull, albeit safe, existence. She would have done it too, had it not been for the energy and determination of Harry Vance.
When Lord Lymingtonhad been entirely confused by the letter Isabel wrote him, he, being a cooperative sort of fellow, did as he’d been directed. He consulted Miss Thompson.
Miss Thompson was able to explain the matter thoroughly and wondered aloud if he would not rather marry her than anybody else.
So little was his guile that he’d said, “I rather think I do!”
In the end, though there might not be an overwhelming amount that was sensible about Lord Lymington, he did very sensibly marry Miss Thompson. His mother did not love his choice, as now there were three people out of four in her household who only wished to speak of horses. She did, however, respect her new daughter-in-law’s ability to steer her son in the right direction. Miss Thompson did not waste any time in alerting her fiancé that Carlson’s theories on the weather were stuff and nonsense and he ought to give up talk of the whales and dolphins.
The couple got on rather famously—the new Lady Lymington cherished her husband’s gentle manner and almost childlike innocence. Lord Lymington found himself in a rather unique and surprising position. For the first time in his life, he was adored.
They built their life around horses and spoke of horses. When they were going somewhere that horses could not be the entire conversation, Lady Lymington very helpfully gave him interesting things to discuss ahead of time. Lord Lymington became especially fond of learning interesting facts about other sorts of animals. He remained all his life amazed that pigeons mated for life and thought them very like he and his wife.
Lady Lymington took being compared to a pigeon in all good humor.
The earl’s ancientbutler, Rogers, was given a stipend and was settled very comfortably in a cottage on Harry Vance’s estate in Cornwall. It was a neat and tidy little place, had a garden out front, and was very nearby the main house. He became friendly with the cook and that lady sent over plates of beef, cakes, roast chicken, jars of jam, pickles, and all sorts on a regular schedule. She was even known to knit him a scarf for the cold weather.
The retired butler turned out to be a very good listener and became a favorite with the children of the neighborhood, who stopped by the cottage to pour out their troubles over a cup of tea and biscuits. Sometimes they brought a dog or a cat who also had troubles and required a bit of meat or bowl of milk. Whatever the problem, Rogers’ visitors always left feeling better than when they had arrived.
When Isabel’s sister,Margaret, had initially heard of the goings on at her father’s estate, she’d made her way there to discover the truth of it. She was, at first, outraged that this interloper by way of Mr. Vance had taken charge of the house and claimed he would marry her sister.
She was far less outraged when she was apprised of the lack of an entail. Later, it was proposed that after the earl’s passing Margaret and her husband would take possession of the house, and financial arrangements were made. Half of the profits would go to Margaret and her squire as they would be doing the work of the estate, a fourth held back in safekeeping for any lean days to come, and a fourth would go to Isabel. The inheritance would go to Margaret’s children, as Isabel’s own were to be well-supplied.
While Margaret remained ever flighty, her squire was a sensible fellow and everybody had confidence in his abilities. Should he fall short or need assistance, Lord Bertridge was right down the road and Bemmy could always be called on for household matters. It was unlikely to come to that, though, as Mr. Browning held on to the steward’s reins rather firm. The butler that was finally hired was a further reinforcement. Mr. Crane went by the book, and that very stern book had been written by himself.
Though the Earlof Somerdon had proclaimed he did not like change, after a suitable period of time the changes did not seem as changes anymore. It also could not be denied that he was rather fond of the expansion of his wine cellar and the new and varied dishes that were to be found on his dining table. He also discovered that he could not argue with his butler, Mr. Crane, as he never got anywhere with it. Mr. Crane had written his own book on how a house should proceed and anybody stepping out of line did so at their peril, including the earl.
Lord Somerdon never did take to speaking in full sentences though and his grandchildren made a great game of imitating him during their years in the nursery.
A nursemaid would say, “Now, get in bed this instant.” The children would answer with a string of: “No? Yes?Late. Tired. Yes.Nooooo.” This was, for some years, considered the height of wit in that location, though the nursemaids and nannies subjected to it may not have seen it so.
Though they imitated him mercilessly, all his grandchildren held a real fondness for the earl. They spent their summers wandering his wood and eating blueberries until their stomachs ached. As the earl never proscribed a bedtime or how many marzipans were too many, they were perennially in a state of giddy exhaustion and considered him the best grandfather alive.
Lady Redfield marriedLord Jeffries within a year, which came as a surprise to nobody. They were, in their own way, very well suited—he was just as agreeable as she was. Their few arguments were always regarding who ought to get their way, with neither of them wishing to win the debate.
A conversation over whether they should bring strawberry jam or marmalade on a picnic went something like this: “Now, my dear, I insist we follow your judgment.”
“I must disagree. You ought to have things your way.”
“I would find myself downhearted were I to consider your disappointment.”
“I find myself with the same view! How can I be comfortable knowing you did not get what you would prefer?”
