Epilogue

EPILOGUE

MAY 13, 1840. ST. NICHOLAS'S CHURCH, SURREY.

A ll of the visitors save only Veronica and Wishpole had left Meriwell Hall on the evening of Stephen Meriwell's arrest.

The prodigal grandson, Jacob, had remained as well, and when Penelope, Barnaby, Stokes, and David returned five days later for the joint funeral of Angus, Lord Meriwell, and Sophie Meriwell, Veronica informed them that Jacob, shortly to be recognized as his grandfather's successor to the title and the combined Meriwell estate, was likely to return permanently from the Midlands, where he'd established and been managing a highly successful manufacturing business.

"Apparently," Veronica said as she and Penelope, flanked by David, Barnaby, and Stokes, strolled between the stones in the graveyard, "Jacob feels that the time is right to establish a similar business somewhere in Surrey or Sussex. He and Wishpole have been as thick as thieves, discussing various prospects." She smiled. "It's as if Jacob returning has given Wishpole new life, just as it has for her ladyship. His being here has helped both, and Lord Iffey, too, cope with Lord Meriwell's death. All are still sad, but they're coming around. Jacob's giving them something to live for."

Penelope nodded. "Out of tragedy, good may come."

Indeed, that was one reason Penelope had felt compelled to attend the funeral. To her mind, it was fitting to see those murdered laid to rest with all due care and affection and also to be reassured that life would, nevertheless, continue for those left behind. In this case, it seemed that the future looked quite positive.

They paused not far from the church door and watched the large and varied congregation stream out into the mild sunshine. The burial services would be private, held later and attended only by the males of the family.

The Busseltons were present, and the older pair came up to exchange greetings.

From what Penelope gleaned, Mrs. Busselton, at least, was still counting her blessings.

Even Mr. Busselton had taken a lesson from their recent experience. "You may be sure," he confided to Penelope and Barnaby, "that henceforth, I will be very much less trusting about situations that seem too good to be true."

Overhearing the comment, Mrs. Busselton looked pleased. "When we left here last week, we went straight home to Guildford and were gratified to have the new Lord Meriwell visit a few days later. He brought word of the funeral and was kind enough to thank us for our support of his grandmother through such a trying time." Mrs. Busselton nodded with obvious approval. "It was very prettily done."

"Veronica mentioned that Jacob's presence has greatly eased Lady Meriwell's heart," Penelope put in.

"Indeed, I imagine that's so," Mrs. Busselton replied. "Jacob told us a little of his endeavors in the Midlands, and I must say, it was refreshing to hear of a young gentleman of his wealth and standing so willing to involve himself in bettering the lives of those less fortunate. Not in any ramshackle, self- aggrandizing way but in a considered, thoughtful, productive manner. He clearly has a passion for improving the conditions of his workers, and he's adamant that the return he gets is worth the investment."

It was patently obvious that in Mrs. Busselton, Jacob had found a supporter.

"Hmm, yes." Mr. Busselton didn't look quite as enthused. "His politics might be a trifle radical, you know, but I daresay that's the old generation speaking of the new, and in the end, one has to bow to progress."

Mrs. Busselton smiled on her spouse. "I wouldn't have thought I would ever say it but"—her gaze shifted to the group standing just outside the church door—"our stay at Meriwell Hall has definitely brought some benefits."

Following Mrs. Busselton's gaze, Penelope saw Persimone and Peregrine talking earnestly with Jacob. The trio seemed quite absorbed.

Mrs. Busselton lowered her voice to confide, "If Peregrine must look up to a more experienced gentleman, then I'll be well pleased if he chooses to emulate Jacob Meriwell."

Penelope bit back a laughing comment that her ladyship's rosy-eyed view of Jacob all but mirrored her spouse's earlier assessment of Stephen, but in truth, from what Penelope had seen and heard, Jacob was, indeed, a young gentleman with his feet planted firmly on the ground, and by taking his direction from his late parents, he was very much following the path of the angels.

What caught Penelope's interest now was the look in Persimone's eyes as she darted glances Jacob's way and the rather hopeful and encouraging looks Jacob sent in return.

Hmm. More wedding bells, perhaps?

There were few events that brought Penelope more pleasure than the celebration of a happy union, and she sensed that a marriage between Jacob and Persimone might work very well.

Penelope's gaze wandered farther, and she saw Lady Meriwell and Lord Iffey, arm in arm as they walked slowly down the path. Just watching them stroll together, glancing at each other and smiling as they went, conveyed a sense of them moving forward in life side by side, supporting each other and being there for the other, as Iffey had certainly been for decades.

Penelope had to wonder if there might be a small ceremony there, too. In time.

But for now…she considered the sight of Jacob Meriwell chatting with several of the local gentry. Persimone held to her position beside him, and the hope in her face was easy to read.

Before she and the others had left Meriwell Hall, Penelope had taken shrewd note of Jacob's reaction to his grandfather's death and, even more, to the shocking news that his younger sister, too, had met her end at the hands of Jacob's cousin. To Penelope's eyes, Jacob had been genuinely grieved, even though Lady Meriwell had let fall that the connection between brother and sister, with ten years in age between them, had never been all that strong. Jacob's feelings for his grandfather had clearly been deeper, and the untimely death of his grandsire had affected him at a more profound level, yet Jacob was young, and more than anything else, he was the sort who picked themselves up and forged on.

Yet after the salutary tale of Stephen Meriwell—who Penelope freely admitted had hoodwinked even her—she'd felt the need for caution. Over the intervening days, she'd turned her researching skills on Jacob Meriwell and had learned considerably more about his doings over the years since he'd left Meriwell Hall.

Viewing again the way Persimone looked at Jacob and the way he looked at her, Penelope decided it behooved her to share her findings with the Busseltons. Barnaby had drifted from her side and, with Stokes, was talking with Wishpole. Her mind made up, she turned to the Busseltons, who had remained beside her, and after drawing them somewhat apart from the chattering horde still filling the churchyard, she told them of the facts she'd ascertained regarding Jacob Meriwell and his life over recent years.

The Busseltons were suitably impressed and also distinctly grateful.

"Thank you, my dear." Mrs. Busselton briefly closed her hand about Penelope's wrist. "That was kind of you to share that information." She, too, glanced toward her daughter and the new Lord Meriwell. "I suppose it's obvious we harbor hopes in that direction, but if I've learned anything of Persimone, watching from the sidelines is the best approach. That said, it would be something of a coup to snap up the new Lord Meriwell before he ever sets foot in the ton."

Penelope heartily concurred and, leaving the Busseltons dreaming, she seized the moment to approach Lady Meriwell and Lord Iffey, who were standing a few yards away and, momentarily, were free of others.

After complimenting her ladyship on the flowers in the church, Penelope airily remarked, "I do hope you will find some degree of happiness in the years to come."

Lady Meriwell's eyes were laughing as she met Penelope's gaze. "My dear, you are known to be quite observant, so I daresay it will come as no surprise to you that Iffey and I plan to tie the knot at some point."

"Once Clemmie is out of mourning, of course," Iffey hurried to assure Penelope.

"Indeed. I have no wish to wear gray at my next wedding." Her ladyship smiled at Iffey, and Penelope felt her own heart warm at the love that glowed in her ladyship's old eyes. "Even at our age," her ladyship went on, "even after all this time, it will be nice to be able to be open about things."

"Definitely," Iffey declared.

With a sincerely delighted smile, Penelope wished the ageing pair well, then finally managed to catch up with Veronica and David. Penelope had already learned that the couple planned to marry, which she considered an excellent development.

When she brazenly asked when she might expect to receive a wedding invitation, Veronica laughed, then shot a questioning glance at David. "We were thinking of early autumn. September, perhaps?"

"To some extent, our timing will be dictated by when I can get colleagues to cover my patients for me." David smiled, and the depth of his happiness shone in his eyes. "Physician to the ton must be one of the few professions where getting married requires such organizational contortions."

Veronica laughed. "Of course, once we're married, the organizing will fall to me."

Penelope had learned of the couple's plan to work side by side in David's practice, and as one of David's patients, she wholeheartedly supported the notion.

After several minutes of catching up with news of shared acquaintances and assured that all in Veronica and David's soon-to-be-joint life was progressing as it should, Penelope parted from the pair. David would return with Veronica to Meriwell Hall to pick up her cases before driving them both to London in his curricle.

Ambling along the edge of the crowd, Penelope tried to spot her husband or, failing him, Stokes. She'd last seen the pair talking with Wishpole. She skirted clusters of people, peering this way and that, then spotted Wishpole standing to one side.

He was currently speaking with Arthur and Peter Meriwell.

Something about their gestures and Wishpole's expression and the tenor of his responses gave Penelope pause. She hung back, concealed amid the crowd, and when Arthur and Peter finally took their leave of the old solicitor and walked away, she went forward, looped her arm in Wishpole's, and asked, "What on earth was that about?"

Wishpole's eyes twinkled. "I could claim client confidentiality, but in this case, I can't see that it matters. First, of course, the legacies received from his lordship's estate have greatly eased the financial pressures on Arthur and Peter, enough to allow both to pause and reflect. You'll be pleased to learn that their elder brother's rather spectacular fall from grace has, it seems, pulled the younger two up short. Both, I gather, have spent some time dwelling on the follies of their pasts and their prospects for the future, such as they currently are. The upshot of that is that both—independently—decided to pull up their socks, and wonder of wonders, they came together and discussed their options, and then they came to see me."

The solicitor's eyes twinkled even more definitely as his gaze met Penelope's. "They've asked, and I've agreed to assist them to find suitable positions in the civil service—positions they are actually capable of filling. Both had perfectly adequate educations, and neither is a dunce. They might not have been using their brains all that much in recent years, but they are not incapable of doing so. And most tellingly, neither wish me to inform Jacob of their plans, nor do they wish to ask him for any support whatsoever." He paused, then added, "I think both feel somewhat responsible for their uncle's death and, even more, Sophie's. Guilt as such would be misplaced, but it seems that the lingering impact of the past week might well be the making of Arthur and Peter, and I, for one, am prepared to be grateful."

"Indeed!" Penelope was suitably taken aback. "I never would have expected such common sense from them."

"Well, my dear." Wishpole patted her hand as it lay on his sleeve. "It's early days yet. No doubt, we shall see."

Penelope remained chatting with Wishpole about his view of Jacob and his novel ideas. The solicitor's opinions proved to be much in line with hers. Eventually parting from him, she set off once more to track down her husband.

She finally located him and Stokes. Or more accurately, having finished chatting with various people, they were searching for and found her. She smiled at them delightedly and took Barnaby's arm. "Gentlemen, I have to admit that I feel particularly satisfied with the results of our endeavors on multiple fronts. I predict that, in counterpoint to this joint funeral, we'll soon have three weddings to attend." With relish, she declared, "Life goes on."

Amused, Stokes murmured agreement.

Barnaby smiled at her. "And on that note, I believe we can, with all due complacency, head home."

"Indeed." Her face wreathed in a smile, Penelope gestured expansively. "Home to our waiting families and all the joys they bring." She met Barnaby's cerulean-blue eyes and more quietly admitted, "I did miss them."

She meant Oliver and Phillip, and she saw understanding and fellow-parental feeling in Barnaby's face.

Without further discussion, they turned their steps toward their waiting carriage.

Mulling over all she felt and why, Penelope said, "If you analyze this case, it was all about legacies, first to last. Not merely legacies in the physical sense—the inheritances and bequests—but even more than those, this case was driven by legacies of character."

Stokes grunted. "Stephen being the same as his father, only much worse in that Stephen was a master of deception on top of all his other faults."

"And Angus Meriwell and Sophie Meriwell were both obsessed by the aspect that featured most highly in their minds, by the thing that mattered most to them." Penelope looked up and elucidated, "Family reputation for Angus and the social whirl for Sophie. In their single-mindedness, Sophie and Angus were much alike."

Barnaby added, "Robert, Jacob and Sophie's father, seems to have been in a different mold, possibly taking after Clementina. He appears to have cared about others every bit as much as he cared for himself, and in that sense, Jacob seems a chip off Robert's block."

Penelope nodded. "Exactly. Indeed, Jacob seems to be following in the footsteps of his parents—committed to working for the betterment of all, albeit in a different way, in a different country."

They walked on, then Barnaby observed, "I rather think that if Angus had lived to deal with Stephen's perfidy and Jacob had subsequently returned, while Angus would initially have been rocked back on his heels, ultimately, he would have been immensely proud of the man Jacob has become."

"Yes." Penelope squeezed Barnaby's arm and grinned. "Aside from all else, Jacob's personality, achievements, and endeavors reflect so very well on the Meriwell name!"

"Hah!" Stokes said, and Barnaby chuckled.

Smiling, too, Stokes stated, "This was, indeed, a case of legacies. Yet always, in the end, life—and families—endure and go on."