Three Years Later

Marjorie and Aylmer stood in the middle of their London townhouse drawing room surrounded by the people that they loved, and who loved them in return. Their daughter, Emma, toddled about the room chasing after the family greyhound, attempting to catch the dog’s tail. Each time that she fell, the greyhound would turn around, help her back up onto her feet, and then continue on with the game. “That dog has the patience of a saint,” Aylmer chuckled fondly as he watched the scene.

Marjorie smiled in agreement.

Just as Emma was about to grab the edge of a tablecloth and knock over a vase full of flowers, Aylmer’s former ayah, now Emma’s ayah, scooped her up and tickled her belly. “Dog,” Emma protested, attempting to wriggle free of the ayah’s grasp. “Dog!”

“Let the dog rest for a time. Shall I tell you a story about a dog?” the ayah offered and snuggled Emma down onto her lap.

“The child should be dressed more warmly,” Aylmer’s mother chastised as she watched the two together. “There is a definite chill in this room.” She pulled her shawl tighter around herself, as the fire roared cheerily upon the hearth next to her chair. She rubbed her brow and frowned in concentration. “I feel a headache coming on. There is a draft most certainly.”

Aylmer and Marjorie exchanged a knowing look. The room was quite warm, and Aylmer had verified himself that there was not a draft to be found in the room before settling his mother into her favorite chair. The butler stepped forward with a lap rug for the Dowager Countess, tucking it faithfully around her legs. He then poured her a glass of medicinal sherry and placed it gently in her hand, before stepping back once more. Aylmer gave a nod of gratitude to the manservant which was returned in respect.

Marjorie’s attention was drawn to the settee across from her mother-in-law where Katherine and Ernest sat snuggled up together. It was a beautiful sight that brought warmth to her heart. The couple were expecting their first child, and Katherine was radiating a joyful glow. Ernest could not take his eyes away from his beloved wife and he held her hand as if it were the most precious gift on the planet. The two had found great happiness with one another and had eventually been accepted by society due to their kind humble natures. 

“They are beautiful, are they not?” The Duchess of St. Albans murmured in Marjorie’s ear.

Marjorie turned around in surprise and smiled as the duchess kissed her on both cheeks. “Fashionably late as usual, I see,” Marjorie teased her, pleased to have her friends together in one place. 

“Running Couts keeps me busy, but I love every moment of it. Did you hear the latest news?”

“I have not,” Marjorie shook her head. The two women had become strong allies in the world of business and dear friends in their private lives. There was nothing that they kept from one another and both had profited greatly from the relationship.

“Lord Lovell has wed a widow nearly fifteen years his senior. It is rumored that he had no other choice as his banking business has suffered in the wake of some of his dealings. The widow is of means and has been alone for many years.”

“I am not certain which of them to feel sympathy for,” Marjorie admitted.

“Neither am I, but he has made his own choices and there is naught that can be done about it now. I am only sorry that I did not see the truth of his nature sooner. Perhaps it is poetic justice.” She shrugged an elegant shoulder, then turned to Marjorie’s husband. The duchess greeted Aylmer with an air kiss, then swept across the room to take up residence in the chair next to Aylmer’s mother. The woman had such an air of confidence that no matter her surroundings she looked like a queen upon her throne. “How are you feeling this day, dear lady?” she asked, Aylmer’s mother listening raptly to the Dowager Countess as she regaled her with all of her ailments, both real and imagined.

 Marjorie and Aylmer moved to take their own seat beside Marjorie’s mother. “Has there been word from the penal colony?” she asked, attempting to keep her voice low, but every voice in the room fell silent to hear the answer.

Marjorie reached out and took her mother’s hand. “I have received one letter from Father in the two years since his transportation. I did not open it. If you wish to do so, you are welcome to it, but I do not wish to allow the pain and suffering that he has caused to continue in my own life.”

Her mother patted her hand gently. “I respect your decision.”

Marjorie nodded in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

In an effort to fill the heavy silence that followed, Aylmer arose to retrieve something from the writing desk against the far wall. “Speaking of letters,” he announced as he came to sit back down beside Marjorie. “I have received word from Captain Caney. We are quite pleased with his supervision of the Russian fur trade. He is a good man.” He proceeded to read aloud the missive with a smile. The captain reported favorable winds and fair seas, along with excellent prices. “The Russian merchants are only slightly less stubborn than the Countess herself,” Aylmer read aloud and everyone laughed.

Ernest nodded, pleased with the news. “The cotton enterprise in India is also going well.”

“As is that of the Americas,” Marjorie confirmed.

“It is a glorious thing to conduct business with friends whom you trust unconditionally,” Aylmer noted.

“Indeed, it is,” Marjorie agreed. It had taken them time to work through the stain that both of their father’s actions had left on their respective businesses, but they had joined their trading companies, restricted the leadership structure, and had been meticulous about everything being lawful and honorable. They were finally reaping the rewards of a strong reputation for reputable business without the underhanded schemes of Marjorie’s father to taint their success.

As the afternoon faded into evening, Marjorie and Aylmer left their guests to converse among themselves as they watched their daughter attempting to ride the greyhound around the back garden. They were joined by her ayah, who shook her head in amusement. “She is as adventurous and strong willed as her mother,” she noted, smiling affectionately at Marjorie.

“I would not have it any other way. I pray that she grows up to be just as strong and intelligent,” Aylmer remarked, nuzzling Marjorie behind her ear.

The ayah nodded in agreement. “I allow her to explore her interests freely with that very thing in mind, but I do feel sorry for the dog,” she noted wryly. “She needs a human companion nearer her own age. It will be good for her when the Elkins baby is born.”

“That will not be her only companion,” Marjorie murmured, placing her husband’s hand on her lower abdomen.

Smiling, their daughter’s ayah stepped away to give them a moment of privacy.

“Do you mean?” Aylmer asked, joy warring with uncertainty in his eyes.

“I do. We are expecting another child. This time I feel that it is a boy,” Marjorie confirmed with a radiant smile.

The man who had survived being kidnapped and nearly dying without shedding a single tear, fell to his knees and laid his head on his wife’s stomach, tears of joy flowing down his cheeks. “A son,” he whispered softly. “My son.” He turned his face up to Marjorie and she wiped the tears from his eyes. “Thank you,” he breathed.

“I love you,” she replied, drawing him to his feet. “I love the life that we have built for ourselves and I thank God every day that he saw through my stubborn resolve and gave me the gift of you.”

Aylmer drew her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

THE END

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