32. Epilogue

Epilogue

" A re you completely sure about this?"

Beatrice, who had been preoccupied with ensuring the trunks were strapped tightly to the back of the carriage, looked up sharply at Gregory. He was standing some distance away, his hands folded behind his back as he was wont to do, a somewhat pensive expression on his face.

"Of course I'm sure," Beatrice answered automatically, glancing about the gravel drive at the front of the Hillmot manor house as if someone might overhear. "You should know by now that I do not do anything I am unsure of."

Gregory, despite his evident concern, couldn't help but smile. "Yes, that is true enough."

Beatrice, a pen and paper in her hand as she checked the luggage, tilted her head at Gregory. There was still a shadow of concern on his face. Pursing her lips a little in tolerantly affectionate irritation, and ensuring that there were no maids about, Beatrice glided over quickly and pressed a quick kiss to Gregory's cheek.

"Do you really think I would ever have any doubts about marrying you?" she teased lightly, laying her head on his shoulder for a moment. She could feel him relax ever so slightly under her cheek.

"No," he said, "not that. Well," he amended, putting an arm about her waist, "perhaps not the marrying itself, but the manner in which we are doing so."

Beatrice straightened back up, arching an eyebrow and looking Gregory in the eye again. "What, you think I require some massive society wedding? After the way they have treated me? Hang the lot, I say," she said airily, tossing her head proudly.

Gregory's mouth drew up in his uneven smile again, which made Beatrice smile too. "Society is fickle enough that I imagine your rejecting them will make them clamour for your company all the more."

"Likely," Beatrice snorted. "If you do not doubt my desire to be your wife, then what is troubling you?"

"That," Gregory said, jerking his head backward just as a cacophony of children came tumbling out the front door. They seemed to be engaged in some squabble about whose trunk was whose, and the ownership of a hatbox. The arguing continued as they passed right on by Beatrice and Gregory, so absorbed they did not even notice the pair watching them.

Beatrice sighed, but smiled a little. The girls had been thrilled with her return, doubly so when Beatrice had requested their permission to marry their father: She had firmly believed that, whatever her own enthusiasm for being Mrs Hillmot, she would not go through with it without their blessing. They had, of course, consented heartily, throwing themselves at Beatrice with delighted squeals.

Gregory, hearing Beatrice sigh, turned to face her, his face grave. "You really wish to bring them with us? I am worried you don't know what you're undertaking."

Beatrice smiled placatingly at Gregory, and dared to offer him another kiss. "I am sure. Besides," she added, casting a wary glance back to the house, "if we leave them here, there might not be a house to come back to."

Gregory nodded seriously, which made Beatrice laugh. She gave Gregory's hand a quick squeeze before turning her attention to the girls, who were still bickering.

Taking a breath, Beatrice clapped her hands together once. All three Hillmot sisters turned to look at her, still pouting and scowling at one another.

"What's this?" Beatrice demanded. "I thought you were all eager to come along with us, and now I find you scarcely able to get into the carriage without falling into disarray!"

"Florence started it!" Sophia objected, her lower lip still poking out.

"Not so!" Florence argued, "it was Eliza who refused to be reasonable!"

"It is not being unreasonable to refuse to give up my seat for your bonnet box," Eliza said with a roll of her eyes so grand that Beatrice wondered that they did not get stuck that way.

"I only said—" Florence began, but Beatrice clapped her hands again, cutting them off before they could get started again.

"Well, I was going to say that I am in need of three lovely bridesmaids, but all that I see before me is a pack of wild dogs in pinafores," she said, giving them all a pointed look in turns.

"Bridesmaids? You wish us to be bridesmaids?" Sophia asked, her eyes going wide.

"I do," Beatrice said, nodding. "But if you feel that you are unable to comport yourselves accordingly..." She trailed off with a shrug, sighing as if she were already disappointed.

With that particular threat hanging in the air, they managed to get the girls wrangled into the carriage. There was another round of protests that almost set them to arguing again, but a stern look from Gregory halted that for the time being. Beatrice and Gregory took their place on the opposite bench, their backs to the horses.

For the next hour, peace reigned, the girls placated with the excitement of not only being allowed to come along on such an adventure, but also the fact that they were leaving England. Florence, as the oldest, was the only one who could properly remember a time when they lived abroad at various postings of their father's.

"It's only a jaunt across the border to Scotland," she sniffed with great superiority anytime the other two girls became too excited. "We're hardly going to some far-flung outpost of the Empire."

"As you are such an expert at travelling, we shall be relying on you to see us through in good order," Beatrice replied with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"Eliza's looking out my window!" Sophia announced petulantly, breaking the momentary peace.

"It's not your window," Eliza said, exasperated.

"As if either of you have any room to complain," Florence retorted, unable to stay out of the fray. "You're both crushing my dress into ruin!"

"We will rotate positions when we stop to water the horses," Gregory replied, sounding tired already.

Beatrice, however, only smiled at them. "Ladies, ladies, you are focused on entirely the wrong things," she said. "The landscape is all well and good, but I hear the Scots entertain patterned cloth that we don't have at all in England. And," she added with relish, "I also hear that they are quite fond of biscuits. We must endeavour to try every variety."

"Of biscuits or cloth?" Florence asked.

"Both, clearly," Beatrice answered breezily.

This was a course of action that was agreeable to all involved.

***

I t was not long after the sun had set that the carriage fell into silence. The younger occupants had fallen into an easy sleep, lulled by the rocking of the carriage and the substantial luncheon they had been provided at an inn as the horses were watered and rested. Despite their earlier disagreements, they slept as peacefully as cherubs, resting their cheeks against one another beneath a blanket, the older two taking great care to keep Sophia warm between them.

Beatrice, too, could feel her eyes growing heavy. Languidly, she let her head loll backward a little, resting against the padded carriage squab. She rested quietly for a moment but snapped her eyes open when she felt someone staring at her.

Her intuition was right: She opened her eyes to find the colonel gazing at her, the whites of his eyes shining in the rising moonlight. He watched her closely, clearly expecting her to respond like a cat would, with a swipe of her paw. Instead, she indulged her impulse for charm and warmth in his presence; she blinked slowly and let a gentle, coy smile spread over her face.

She was duly rewarded by an inhale from the colonel, his eyes flicking down to her mouth. Silently, he shifted closer and pressed his lips briefly to hers. She hummed appreciatively and snuggled closer to him, tucking her head beneath his chin.

"Are you quite certain you don't have any regrets?" he asked, and she could feel the question rumbling in his chest beneath her hand. She drew back a little, and Gregory nodded toward the three sleeping girls. "This lot can be a great deal to contend with—are you sure you wish to take them on?"

"It was just the excitement of the journey," Beatrice said with a dismissive little wave. "Change, even a good one, can cause the best of us to become pensive and contentious."

"That is so," the colonel allowed, and Beatrice resumed her place snuggled up against him. "I have been wondering if it might not be better to remove some of ourselves from said conflict, however."

"How do you mean?"

"Well," Gregory said slowly, picking each word carefully. "I don't imagine you have any particular wish to live in London, and I don't imagine the county will be any more inclined to accept our marriage without comment."

"Let them talk," Beatrice said, encouraging the colonel to put his arm about her shoulders against the chill of night. "I'm used to it."

"Yes, but are they ?" Gregory asked, and Beatrice could feel him tip his head toward the three sleeping girls again.

Beatrice frowned. That was something she had not felt easy about, either. It wasn't as if they had asked to be the centre of gossip and scandal. If they all started fresh somewhere together, it would put them all on more equal footing, too.

"Perhaps you're right," Beatrice said, the idea forming as she spoke. "We are both fond of travel, and perhaps abroad, we might start afresh. I am sure we could arrange for you to be given a foreign posting again."

Satisfied, they fell into silence again. Beatrice, content and full of dreams about their future in some new, exotic locale, fell into a daze again. The prospect of establishing her own role in society was an exciting one; she might even find a dancing school for other girls living abroad...

"You never answered my question," Gregory said, jolting Beatrice back to wakefulness again.

"Mm? What question was that?" Beatrice murmured, closing her eyes again, determined not to have her sleep interrupted.

"If you had any regrets," he repeated. Beneath her ear, Beatrice could feel him tense up, as if he were anticipating a blow.

She opened her eyes, turning her head a little to regard the three girls. They were so peacefully asleep that no one would ever think to besmirch their passive countenances with the aspersion that they could be the most argumentative of creatures. Still, Beatrice knew better—she knew that they could argue, and feel, and hope, and be disappointed. She knew all their foibles and idiosyncrasies, and she loved them all the more for it.

"No," Beatrice said, quietly but with such certainty that it could not be argued against. "I will never regret being part of this family."

Beatrice and Gregory found the happiness they thought was lost forever… But what trials await Lady Mabel on her path to love?

The Governess, the Duke and the Diary is Available on our Website and on Amazon!

Read The Governess, the Duke and the Diary Now! Click Here or Scan the QR Code