Dangerous Knight by Elizabeth Johns
Epilogue
“Winterbourne is not exactly my ideal destination for a wedding trip,” Jack mused aloud.
“Perhaps not, but it has to be visited before you return to the Continent,” Kate argued.
“Must you always be reasonable?” He looked at her with mock exasperation.
“I must, otherwise, you would not now be my husband.” She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Then let it be noted I am an advocate of the art.”
They exchanged smiles and the carriage rolled on for a few more miles while they watched the passing landscape in silence save the creak of the carriage and clip-clop of the hooves. The countryside gave way from thick woods into the vast hills and desolate moors that defined much of Yorkshire. Jack tried not to give way to the stress and anxiousness he felt at returning to a place he would rather see burned to the ground than standing. It was only for a fortnight, he reminded himself.
“What will happen to Lloyd?” Kate asked unexpectedly, redirecting his thoughts.
“He was acting in the best interests of his family. He suspected his father. I think any of us would have tried to resolve the situation on our own in order to protect our family.”
“Will there be lenience?”
“I think for Lloyd, yes, but for Lord Mottram, I could not say. Even if the old scandal is swept under the rug, it was a very public accusation made.”
“Even though Newsom was the murderer?”
“I suspect in time it will pass, but there will always be some taint of scandal.”
“Poor Maria. Perhaps she would accompany us to the Continent to divert her for a while. I cannot think she would prefer isolation in the country. She loves town life.”
“I will happily speak to Wellington to see if he would object to her coming along as your companion. I cannot think he would, especially if Lloyd returns with us. It is not London, but there is some Society, especially whilst in Paris.”
“I will write and ask her. I would think distance from England might be welcome. And with Lord Philip standing her friend, it can only help.”
They were nearing the village, and he observed workers out in the fields. Were those now his fields? Somehow, the village also seemed brighter and more cheerful as they passed through. Was it his imagination or was it because he knew he would not have to see his grandmother? The church bells rang as they slowed as though welcoming them home.
The carriage turned through the gates of the old estate and Jack felt a sense of dread. Kate, perhaps sensing his thoughts, took one of his hands in hers. “All will be well. She is no longer here, remember.”
“Her spirit haunts me; I am certain of it.” Nevertheless, Kate was correct. His grandmother was no longer there and he was no longer a child.
“You must acknowledge she did one good thing.”
“Must I admit it aloud? Is it not enough that you are Mrs. Owens?”
Kate only laughed and he could not help but return a smile. He looked out of the window, and was filled with astonishment and a large lump in his throat. “I do believe our coachman has turned into the wrong place.”
Kate was silent as he took everything in. She must know what he was expecting, despite being assured that the estate had been refurbished as it once had been. The trees had been trimmed and instead of foreboding, now presented a welcoming formation that opened up into a beautiful vista. The lake, which before had seemed like a murky swamp, also appeared to be clean and inviting. The house – he swallowed hard – had had all of the old shrubbery and climbing ivy cut away and now looked like an entirely different building.
“Are you not pleased?” Kate asked with a worried look when he turned to her. “You do not look happy,” she explained.
“Of course, I am pleased! I am overwhelmed. It is beyond expectations, dear wife.”
“That is a relief,” she said, visibly relaxing. “I hope you will also approve of the changes inside.”
“Anything will be better than when I saw it last,” he added dryly.
A few servants were outside, waiting upon their arrival. “That is very kind of them,” Kate said as she stepped down from the carriage.
“Welcome home, Captain and Mrs. Owens,” Mrs. Dewey said, stepping forward to greet them, alongside Weathersby, who had made the journey ahead of them. “May I say how pleased we all are to see you joined together?”
Jack felt his cheeks warm. He stepped forward and kissed Mrs. Dewey on the cheek. She had been the one person with whom he could seek reprieve when his grandmother had had one of her fits against him. “I am so happy you stayed,” he said softly into her ear, causing her to blush.
“You are still a rogue.”
He made her a bow. “As you see.”
“Come inside. Cook has prepared a repast for you when you are ready.”
If Jack thought the changes outside were remarkable, then the inside was astonishing. It had gone from a dark and dismal Gothic pile to a bright and cheerful haven.
“How is this possible?” Jack asked as he turned around in a circle. The bright sunshine came in through the windows, bringing the outside life in.
“Truly, Husband, it is just paint and new draperies.”
“And you did all of this whilst my grandmother was still here?” he asked doubtfully.
“Well, not all of it. Only the parts of the house into which she never ventured. The rest we completed after her death, during mourning.”
Jack laughed and proceeded to pick her up and twirl her about. “You have wrought a miracle, my dear girl.”
“I have, have I not?” she answered with a mischievous grin. “Come, see your chambers.”
“Then I would like to ride about the estate. I saw some of the changes as we drove in,” he said as they climbed the wooden staircase.
“I doubt those changes will be so obvious as these.”
As they entered the sitting room, the servants were bringing in a lavishly painted trunk that had been sent to the town house just before they’d left for Winterbourne.
“What did Madhuri send you? I have been dying to look inside that trunk.”
Kate smiled. “Curiosity from you?”
“I know, I know. But in this case, I have a strong suspicion of what is in there.”
Kate leaned forward. “I peeked,” she said with a cheeky grin. “If you behave, I might show you later.”
“Later? You cannot be serious! It is our wedding trip. Why would you punish me so?”
She only laughed at him, so he followed her into her chambers.
“Jack,” she scolded. “I thought you wanted to ride about the estate?”
“I do, but now you have me burning with curiosity to see what Madhuri sent.”
“It is only clothes,” she said dismissively.
“Am I not allowed to see them, then?”
“I suppose a little peek would not hurt. I did not think men cared for such things. Unless you’re Mr. Feathers, that is, God rest his soul.”
Jack sat in the chair in the sitting room Kate had redone. It was done in cream and pale blue with gold accents. It felt very Parisian and it suited her.
Kate lifted the lid to the trunk and gasped. She pulled out an opulent silk in a shade of blue that reminded him of peacock feathers. But it was not a dress.
“What is it?” he asked, intrigued.
“It is a sari. It is what an Indian woman might wear to a wedding or ball.”
“Try it on for me.”
She gave him a look like a displeased tutor.
“Please?” he begged.
She walked behind a screen and after several minutes she emerged looking like a dream, and more beautiful than he deserved. He was speechless.
“Well?” She turned in a circle.
“How do men in India ever get anything done?”
Kate laughed. “It is rather revealing.”
“I should say so. I forbid you to wear this for anyone but me.”
He reached out to pull her to him but she shook her finger at him. “Being married does not mean behaving like a naughty schoolboy whenever you like.”
“It absolutely does,” he objected. “That is the whole benefit of having a wife!”
“Would you like to rethink that statement?” She put her hands on her bare midriff.
“I would like to do many things, but think is not one of them.”
She threw a pillow at him.
“You must admit you are temptation wrapped in silk.”
“I forgive you this time,” she said as she walked behind the screen again.
Jack tried not to think about what she was doing behind the screen. “What else is in that trunk?”
“The rest are dresses. English dresses. And if you behave, perhaps I will show you more later.”
She emerged looking prim and proper once again, and he repressed a sigh of disappointment.
After they had refreshed themselves and eaten, Jack wanted to take a tour of the estate. The outdoors had been his refuge whilst living here, and he had spent hours and hours riding each day, hoping to escape into the cavalry. That much he had achieved, but now he could envision settling down to a life with Kate, there at Winterbourne.
A groom had saddled horses for them and once mounted, they set off at a comfortable pace across the fields.
“What are you thinking?” Kate asked, interrupting his reminiscing when they stopped at the top of a hill which overlooked the village.
“I was thinking that I look forward to building a life here with you.”
“What does that mean? I thought we were to leave for Paris in a few days.”
“Yes, I have a commitment to fulfill, but it will not be ere long until little ones come along and I would not wish you to endure the hardships of following the drum and bringing up the children in the field.”
She was looking at him with disbelief writ large upon her face.
“Well, not actually in a field. It is a general term,” he teased.
“Heaven help me.” Gazing aloft as though to emphasize her words, she then urged her mare forward. Jack chased after her with laughter and a curious feeling in his heart.
They stopped at the river, dismounted and enjoyed the privacy along the bank. When they were lying in each other’s arms, staring at the sky, Jack could contain his joy no longer. “I think we should rename the estate.”
Kate lifted her head and looked at him. “Does that mean you intend to keep it?”
“We will need a place to return to.”
She shrugged as though she were indifferent. “Whatever you wish.”
Jack suspected she was not at all indifferent, but wanted the decision to be his. “Winterbourne was such a fitting name before. It was dark, bleak, and dreary. It always seemed as though spring and summer would never come here.”
“Mm.” She intoned her understanding. “What do you think to rename it? Summerbourne?
Jack laughed. “It does sound a bit odd. Rebourne is a bit too religious.” He paused, thinking. “Redbourne, for your glorious hair. I do hope our children will have it,” he said admiringly as he ran his fingers through her silken locks.
“Now you are being ridiculous,” she scolded. “Do you know, Husband, when I first met you, I suspected there were hidden depths to you.”
“Oh? And now your opinion has changed? You take me for a shallow fool?” He sat up on one elbow and looked down at her with incredulousness.
She was not impressed. “I thought your insouciance was a façade—that you were somehow dangerous beneath.”
It was a compliment, he supposed. “And now?”
“Now I know you are.”
“Then let us keep that our little secret.”