Epilogue

EPILOGUE

" T he children are nearly ready for dinner," Edwina said.

"Their dinner will be served in the nursery." Matthew smiled. "It still feels so odd to make reference to a nursery."

"It's odd to hear you say it!" Lavinia laughed. "I never thought I would see you on the verge of having a child of your own, Matthew."

"When he first told us, I wasn't sure if I should believe him," Edwina chimed in, and Allan and Seth both laughed. "But it's impossible to doubt now, of course—just look at Cressida."

Cressida beamed and rested her hands on the small swell of her abdomen. Her pregnancy was not very far along yet, but Edwina was right—it was unmistakable. She spent twice as long in front of the looking glass every day, looking at her new silhouette in wonder. It was still hard to believe that she had been so lucky, that all of this was truly happening. She was about to have a baby with a man she loved more than anything. It seemed impossible, and yet it was true.

"How are you feeling?" Matthew asked her anxiously. "If you'd like to have your dinner upstairs as well, you may certainly do so."

"Oh, don't do that, Matthew," Lavinia said. "She's perfectly well! Just look at the color in her cheeks." She took Cressida by both hands. "You've never looked better," she assured Cressida. "It's obvious how well you're doing. My brother just likes to worry. Pay him no mind."

"I never do," Cressida laughed. "In truth, I appreciate his worry. It's so nice to be cared for." It was the kind of thing she would never have gotten in her old life, when she was living with her father. He would have left it to her to tend to her own needs, even at a time like this. Even when she had been ill, she had always been her own responsibility, never anyone else's.

So even though she felt that Matthew was overreacting to the condition she was in and being more protective than he needed to be, she would accept the gift of his care. The truth was that it meant everything in the world to her to be so well-loved, especially by someone she hadn't been sure would ever be able to offer her that.

"Come into the dining room, then," Matthew said. "Dinner is ready to be served, and we should get it while it's hot. We don't want to be stuck with a cold meal, after all."

They all made their way into the dining room and took their seats around the table.

"Are you finding your appetite affected?" Lavinia asked Cressida. "That was what happened to me each time I was with child—I was hungrier than I had ever been in my life."

"That's true." Seth laughed at the memory. "You were insatiable, particularly the third time. I thought I would have to send away to another country to make sure we had enough food for you."

"Well, that's because our third child was a boy!" Lavinia said. "Everyone knows a large appetite means the baby is a boy."

"Do they know that?" Cressida asked. She supposed that was the sort of thing a mother might have told her if she had had one. Not for the first time, she felt a pang of loss. As happy as she was to have entered this wonderful stage in her life, it would be a little better if her mother had been here to share it with her—to share stories of what it had been like when she herself had carried children and to give Cressida advice. It would have made the experience that much more pleasant.

But it was all right. At least she had these new sisters. Both Lavinia and Edwina had children of their own, and they were both able to give her advice and share stories about what the experience had been like. Cressida did miss her mother's presence, but she didn't feel as if she was alone, and that was something to be thankful for.

"I think it's certainly going to be a boy," Edwina chimed in. "I can tell by the way you're carrying."

Cressida blushed.

"Edwina," Matthew said. "This is hardly appropriate conversation for the dinner table."

"I don't see why not. After all, someone has to tell Cressida what to expect from all this. Don't you want her to know? Don't you want her to be prepared for what lies ahead?"

"You make it sound as if she's marching off to war instead of having a child," Allan said, chuckling.

Edwina laughed too. "In many ways it is like that," she said. "You know as well as I, Allan, how difficult it can be to have a newborn baby. Rewarding, yes—nothing in my life has been more rewarding than the birth of our son! But difficult as well."

"I know you're up to the challenge," Allan said to Cressida. "Both of you. It's a very good thing that you've discovered your true feelings for one another, though. I don't think Edwina and I would have made it through had it not been for our love for one another." He reached over and took Edwina's hand. "Sometimes it's hard to imagine that we've come so far from where we began. Every time I think back on the fact that there was a time you and I couldn't admit our feelings for one another—not even to ourselves—it makes me feel shocked. It's hard to fathom being unable now to tell you how deeply I care for you and how much you mean to me."

"Are all love stories like this?" Cressida wondered. "Does it always begin with people who are unsure of their feelings for one another or can't admit them? Does it always take such a very long time for people to see what's right in front of them? Because what you've just said about Edwina reflects exactly the way I feel about Matthew. There was a time I wouldn't have been able to say, even to myself in my own mind, that my feelings for him were real. And now it seems like such an obvious deception that I can't believe I ever fell victim to it."

"I think it must always be that way," Lavinia agreed. "We were just the same at first. I told myself over and over that I had no real feelings for Seth, that I only spent time with him because he was helpful to me. Now that we're together, when I look back on those days, I can see that that was never the truth. I always cared for him, and I always longed for him to care for me. I didn't recognize it for what it was because I had simply never felt those things for anyone before in my life."

"And I was in the same situation," Seth said. "I told myself over and over that I wouldn't fall in love, that I wouldn't marry. When this lady came along and made me feel things I never expected to feel, I wasn't prepared to cope with it. I'm sure everyone who has ever fallen in love has a similar story to tell." He smiled. "Let us just be thankful that the six of us sitting here have all come to a place in our lives where we are able to speak those truths and to tell those stories to one another, and to ourselves. We no longer have to hide from the way we truly feel."

The conversation halted for a moment, and everyone sitting around the table smiled at one another.

Cressida felt a sense of warmth and camaraderie that she had rarely experienced in her life. She had been fond of her father, and of course she had loved her sister with all her heart and still did. But this was a different kind of family. The way they all supported one another—she had never experienced anything quite like it, and she was very deeply thankful to be a part of it.

Matthew cleared his throat. "I've been thinking," he said.

"Not too hard, I hope," Edwina teased him, and everyone chuckled.

"I've been thinking about the idea of a family portrait," Matthew went on.

"The one I asked you whether you would be willing to create?" Cressida asked him.

"No," he said. "Although I do think it's a good idea you had, and I'm still willing to do that. But this is something different—I'd like a portrait with the whole family. After the baby is born, perhaps. The six of us, and all of the children. Do you think such a thing would be possible?"

"Of course it would," Cressida said. "But you wouldn't want to paint it?"

"I would like to be in it, I think," Matthew said. "I could paint a portrait that included me, the way you and I discussed, but it wouldn't be as true to life as if we sat for one."

"You hate sitting for portraits," Lavinia observed. "You always have, Matthew."

"Yes, I have," he agreed. "But I'm beginning to think that it might be worth it. It might be an acceptable price if it means that we can create something that will live on beyond us—something to leave to our children, so that they can see…who their parents were, and how loved they all were by us. You never know when you might wish you had a sign of that sort of thing."

They were all quiet for a moment, and Cressida was sure that everyone was thinking the same thing she was—that Matthew was wishing he had something from his own mother. That he hadn't had to settle for drawings he'd done himself, based on his father's description—that he could have seen what she looked like when she had held him in her arms.

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Lavinia said at last. "We'll do it as soon as your child is born, Matthew—as soon as you and Cressida are ready. I think it will be lovely to have a portrait of our whole family that can be handed down for generations. I'll look forward to it."

"We all will," Edwina agreed.

The rest of their dinner was peaceful and enjoyable, and at the end of the evening, Lavinia and Edwina and their husbands thanked Cressida and Matthew for their hospitality and left with promises to visit again soon.

Once they were alone in the house, Matthew turned to Cressida. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?" he asked. "There was a lot of exertion tonight, and I think that perhaps you ought to get some rest."

"Matthew, truly, you worry far too much. I'm more than fine." Cressida touched his arm. "It means the world to me that you care as much as you do, but I don't want you to feel worried. I don't want you to fear that something might be wrong. I feel as healthy as I ever have."

"I just don't want to take any chances."

"I understand. The physician will be here again in three days—he'll reassure you that all is well. In the meantime, how can we take your mind off of your concerns?"

Matthew smiled. "Can I tell you what I would love?"

"Of course you can. I'd like you to."

"I would really like to have the opportunity to work on that portrait of the two of us that you requested," Matthew said. "Would you allow me to paint you, Cressida?"

Cressida felt herself blushing, but the blush was born of pleasure. The fact that he saw her as worthy of such admiration was something she knew she would never get over.

"I'd love that," she told him quietly, and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

The End?