Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Three Months Later…

“Ido not know whether to be horrified or relieved,” Peggy declared, huffing on her tea to cool it. “I did my best to keep her from trouble, but that girl will do as she pleases, regardless of what I say. I only hope that Viscount Wharton is the man for the challenge. He likely already regrets it. Still, at least she will have the security she always hoped for, though I will be a laundress before I believe that either of them will be faithful to one another.”

Joanna chuckled, biting into a raspberry tart that was still warm from the oven. “I should say they are well matched.”

“Well, perhaps, but… goodness, their names will never leave those wretched scandal sheets!” Peggy cringed, shaking her head.

“Some are calling them revolutionaries,” Joanna said, prompting Peggy’s mouth to twist as if she had eaten something unpleasant.

“And do you know what happens to revolutionaries? They end up beheaded. In their case, they will end up destitute, living beyond their means, feeding off the generosity of friends and acquaintances until society has grown tired of them, and they are shunned.”

Edwin laughed, drawing a fond gaze from Joanna. “At least theirs will never be a tedious life, and at least they are out of ours.”

“Do not rely upon that, nephew!” Peggy chided. “When they are down to their last shilling, you can expect a knock upon the front door. They will be beggars soon enough, you mark my words.”

Joanna grinned. “They will find no coin here. I have poured it all into the gardens and the repairs of the eastern wing.”

“I saw the lavender patch this morning,” Edwin said, reaching over to take his wife’s hand. “The bees adore it, and I saw a butterfly for the first time in… years. It is strange how one forgets the life that thrums around gardens, when one has gazed at shriveled shrubs and weeds for a decade.”

In the three months that had passed since Edwin awoke from his sickness, there had been a great many changes at Bruxton Hall. The first was the welcome invasion of builders and an architect and laborers to begin the reparations on the eastern wing. The second was the first buds of new flowers in the gardens finally sprouting, and the extension of Joanna’s dream to exist in a world of natural beauty. A pond had been dug, where frogs and dragonflies and fish flourished, and all that was dead and decrepit had been cleared away.

The southern wing still required attention, but that would have to wait until the eastern wing had been rebuilt. Indeed, there had been some discussion about tearing it down entirely, and making the manor smaller, but that had yet to be decided.

As for Jane, she never returned to Bruxton Hall after visiting Joanna. For months, no one knew where she had gone, other than snippets of sightings discovered in the scandal sheets. None of which shone a promising light upon the errant young lady. The only thing anyone did know was that she was existing upon the jewels she had stolen from Peggy’s belongings, though Peggy had chosen not to pursue the matter.

Then, just that morning, Peggy had arrived with news—both good and bad, depending on one’s perspective. Jane had eloped with the Viscount of Wharton, an infamous rake who could not have been loyal to a lady if she had been lashed to him. How they had encountered one another, and how Jane had convinced him to elope with her, remained a mystery, but Joanna was quietly pleased that her former acquaintance had met someone exactly like her. Perhaps, they would be happy together, living separately and with one another as they pleased, doing as they pleased.

“Actually, Peggy, we have some news for you, too,” Joanna said, sitting up straighter as she held onto her husband’s hand. “We were going to wait until my mother and sister arrived, but as you are not staying long, we ought to tell you now.”

Peggy froze. “You are with child? Are you? Are you truly?”

“You did not need to spoil the surprise, Aunt,” Edwin scolded lightly, beaming from ear to ear. “The physician came yesterday. He has confirmed it.”

“And I have been able to eat nothing but raspberry tarts for a fortnight, though it is better than being able to eat nothing at all,” Joanna added, grateful that she had begun to feel more like herself.

At first, she had worried that she had contracted the sickness back from Edwin, but as the weeks had continued, and her nausea had not relented, Mrs. Hislop had offered a suspicion of what might be the cause. As it turned out, Mrs. Hislop had been right.

“A child, my darlings!” Peggy shrieked, lunging off her armchair and darting over to embrace her nephew and his wife. She squeezed them so tightly that Joanna feared a rib might break, but she held the older woman in return, happy to be able to share the news at last. “Oh, this has cheered my day immensely!” Peggy continued. “I was content to be grumpy and miserable, fuming over Jane’s mischief, but I shall do nothing but smile now!”

The old woman released the joyful couple and retreated back to her armchair, calling loudly for Mrs. Hislop. “Be a dear and fetch us something stronger, would you? This must be celebrated.”

“Not for me,” Joanna said in a rush, for the mere scent of liquor and wine made her stomach turn.

Mrs. Hislop flashed a wink. “Lemonade, perhaps?”

“That would be delightful,” Joanna replied, with a relieved sigh. She could not get enough of the taste of sour things, which Mrs. Hislop had assured her was entirely normal.

“And when do your mother and sister arrive?” Peggy asked, grinning like a fool. “I shall, of course, have to stay until they are here. We must all celebrate together, as a family. And do not worry, before you say anything, Edwin, I will not spoil the surprise. I will be as silent as a church mouse when they come.”

Edwin grimaced. “I thought you had a previous engagement?”

“Oh, fiddlesticks to that!” Peggy enthused, “I will remain, for it will be wonderful to share this happy moment with Joanna’s family. We all ought to become better acquainted, after all, for when this child arrives, you will see more of me than you have ever wished to!”

Edwin pulled a face, while Joanna stifled a chuckle. He had been worried that this might happen and had urged Joanna not to tell Peggy about the child until after it was born, but she had thought that too unkind. Besides, knowing Peggy, Joanna had assumed she would find out some other way, and be furious with the pair of them.

“They will be here this afternoon, and are staying for a fortnight,” Joanna told the older woman, already looking forward to being in the company of her family again.

Much had changed at Tillington House, too, after the events that had occurred on that fateful day. Joanna’s father had ceased his visits to London, and in the letters Joanna had received from Nancy, it seemed that their mother and father were somewhere on the road toward companionship, if not love. As for Nancy herself, she had received several offers of courtship throughout the season but had not accepted any.

“I am waiting for a love match, like yours,” she had explained in her letters, quite forgetting that, at first, Joanna’s and Edwin’s marriage had been anything but.

Yet, that was the beauty of life, as far as Joanna was concerned. She viewed her union with Edwin like the toil she had put into the gardens. When she first arrived, to the unknowing eye, the ground and soil had appeared dead and inhospitable, unable to harbor the growth of anything. But she had seen potential and had possessed a determination to make the flowers grow. With nurture and love and nourishment, the buds had unfurled from the watered soil, and would flourish into something that would last beyond her lifetime.

And that was her love for Edwin. A garden in bloom, that might need additional attention and nurture from time to time but would persevere through every winter and autumn and spring and summer, regardless. A legacy that their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren would bask in, and would take hope from, when their own time came to find a match.

“To the future,” Peggy proposed, when the liquor arrived and had been poured. “To an entire menagerie of children!”

Joanna raised her glass of lemonade, clinking it first against her husband’s glass, as he leaned in and stole a kiss from her lips. “To the future, and an entire menagerie of children,” he said, as if just for her. “To us.”

“To us,” she replied, pressing a hand to the slight swell of her belly.

His hand covered hers, his smile brightening his beautiful eyes. “To all of us.”

One thing was for certain; no matter what happened, the child growing within her would be loved beyond measure and would never doubt the existence of love or suffer as Joanna and Edwin had done.

And that was something worth celebrating. Indeed, Joanna knew she would raise her glass for the rest of her days, thanking the heavens for changing her fate, bringing her a garden full of love that she would tend to for as long as she lived.

“To all of us,” she whispered. “Always.”

The End?