Epilogue

EPILOGUE

WILLIAM

T he January air at Rushlake was crisp and cool, but it was the first day the sun had come out in almost a fortnight, making it feel warmer than usual.

William paused at the open door, looking over his wife. She wore a new pair of walking boots and a wool pelisse, and she was tying the strings of her bonnet.

"Shall I fetch a scarf?" he asked.

Clara looked at him with amusement twinkling in her eye. "I am made of sturdier stuff than you realize, William."

She was right, of course. She had been raised helping her father work in colder conditions than this.

"But, by all means," she said, pulling on a glove, "fetch it if you wish for it. Your teeth may break if they chatter as much as they did the other day."

Since they had announced their engagement at the ball the past summer, Rushlake had transformed from the vibrant colors and full foliage of summer to autumn's cool winds and falling leaves, then winter's nipping air and frequent rain. Yesterday was the first day in recent memory that they missed their walk to visit Silas in the lodge, for it had rained all day without abating.

"I am a timid creature, aren't I?" William teased.

"No, but you often seem to think I am."

"Hardly." He took the front of her pelisse and began to do up the buttons. "But you have more than yourself to consider now."

Her hand went instinctively to her stomach, and she smiled up at him.

She had only told him a week ago that she was with child, and every night since, William had dreamed of their future family. Custom dictated they wait to marry until nine months after John's death, but William had brushed that aside, and they had married in the beginning of September. They had already been flouting every accepted societal custom; there seemed little point observing that one when they were certain Clara was not with John's child.

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to him, forgetting entirely about the undone buttons as he pressed his lips to hers. It had not been easy or simple navigating life since the announcement they had made at the ball, but William would not have traded it for anything. Through it, he and Clara had drawn closer, relying wholly upon one another and learning to laugh at the strange looks and whispers their presence often elicited.

Marrying so far outside of Society's dictates had been liberating, in fact. It had given them the freedom to question what so many took for granted. As a result, things at Rushlake operated differently than they might otherwise have.

There had been an awkwardness amongst the servants following their engagement, but Clara's kindness had swiftly overcome it. She enjoyed a closer relationship with those employed at Rushlake than many would have thought appropriate, but the result was a loyal and content army of servants.

"Shall we?" Clara said once they pulled apart.

William nodded and picked up the basket near the door. "One last walk." Tomorrow, they would leave for London.

They strolled the familiar path, so different now from how it had appeared those months ago when they had first walked it together. William was grateful for the long, cold winter, in a way, though. It was perhaps the one thing that had been able to keep Silas compliant and concealed.

When they had nearly reached the lodge, the doors opened, and he appeared, buttoning up his coat. He stopped at the sight of them, however, as though surprised.

"Ah!" he said. "Remembered me, have you?"

William and Clara shared an amused glance.

"Laugh all you want," Silas continued, "but while you two are busy fluttering amongst the butterflies and being in love, I am here alone and starving."

"We left you with plenty of food the other day," William said.

"I beg to differ. I was just on my way to forage for berries and mushrooms."

"Were you? Well, you certainly have the time to do so." He dodged an attempt from Silas to smack him.

"Not after tomorrow, I don't," Silas said.

"Silas," William said, leaving his teasing and resigning himself to the hundredth time they had had this conversation. "You cannot come to London."

"I can, and I will." He held up a paper. "This is from Frederick. Sir Walter is on the outs with Drayton."

William's brow furrowed, and he took the letter. Sir Walter Bence and Drayton were thick as thieves—enough so that Sir Walter was the only person the Yorkes knew to be aware of Drayton's role in the murder Silas was charged with.

Sure enough, Frederick's letter detailed the information he had come by about a falling-out between the two men. William handed the letter to Clara for her perusal.

"Be that as it may," William said to Silas, "you should not be the one to pursue that avenue. It is too dangerous. Let Frederick or me do so."

"And so I will. But I am coming to London, William. You can allow me to join you, or I will find my own way there. Frederick has already agreed for me to stay with him. I will not wait for news here. I am done waiting."

William regarded him critically for a few seconds. It was nothing short of a miracle that Silas had remained concealed at Rushlake this long. It was perfectly reasonable for him to be impatient, and he had proven himself able to take the necessary precautions for safety. Did he not deserve the chance to seek the sort of happiness William now had?

Clara handed the letter back to Silas and met William's gaze. "I think he should come." She had a soft spot for Silas and was every bit as eager as any of them for him to regain his freedom and reputation.

At least they would be able to watch over him in London and be there if anything went amiss.

"Very well," William said. "You may journey with us."

Silas nearly bowled him over with an embrace, and William laughed. He was grateful for any spot of joy he could provide Silas.

"You had better pack your things," William said.

"Already done," Silas said. "Is that for me?" He pointed to the basket William held.

William ceded it to him .

"Is Frederick prepared for the cost of feeding him?" Clara whispered to William.

"I heard that," Silas said, taking a tart from the basket.

They went inside and discussed the plans for the journey to London with him in the comfort of the lodge's warmth. Silas was eager too to discuss how to approach things with Sir Walter. Clara had a few points he hadn't yet considered. She had the distinction of being one of the few people Silas listened to.

William observed the two of them in energetic discussion with a sense of deep gratitude.

Clara was not the Duchess of Rockwood he had imagined; she was so much more. She had blossomed in her new role, leaving behind any reticence while guarding her kindness and devotion to hard work.

As they took the path back to the house half an hour later, his heart was still full as she offered her thoughts on Silas's path forward. When they reached the split in the path, William stopped.

Clara followed suit, looking in question at him. "Is everything well?"

He gave a soft laugh and nodded.

Her eyes full of concern, she grasped his coat by the lapels and stared up at him. "Are you nervous? About Silas?"

He shook his head.

"About…London?"

"No, my love. I am simply happy. So happy I hardly know how to contain it."

She smiled, relaxing into his arms and resting her cheek on his chest.

They remained that way for a time, enjoying the warmth they provided one another. She finally pulled back and met his gaze. "We will face more difficulties in London than we have here."

It was true. They had been able to enjoy each other's company for months now, with only infrequent parties and dinners as interruption. It would be different in London.

But he didn't fear it.

He threaded his fingers through hers and smiled. "Do you remember all those days we walked this road together? How we would part ways here?"

She surveyed the crossroads, one leading into the trees, the other straight to Rushlake. "Of course. How I hated it."

He laughed softly. "As did I. But not anymore. Every time we walk this road, I am reminded that there is no path I have to walk alone now; that there are no crossroads to dread. We walk every path together, Clara, and I am ready for the next one."

Her clear, blue eyes fixed on his, full of love and admiration. "As am I."

THE END

Read Silas's well-deserved love story in A Reckless Courtship