Six years later…

Hartwell Abbey 

The garden was alive with the laughter of children as Evelyn stood beneath the servants and directed the stringing of bunting over the hedge maze, glancing every so often over to where her and Nicholas’ two small children were sprinting through the heather with their friends. 

Gregory, five years of age and every bit his father’s son, was the fastest of the group, while three-year-old Grace tagged behind beside Charlotte and Edward’s son, Daniel. Diana and George’s twin girls, each five, were joining in the game as well, though their rather elaborate skirts kept them from outstripping Gregory in the sprint. Lounging in the shade beneath a tree was the dowager duchess, her hand draped over Guppy’s graying head, watching over the children with fond attention. 

“A little to the left, Your Grace?” the servant on the ladder asked. 

“Yes,” Evelyn said, quickly drawing her attention back to the present task. “And afterward, would you hang the lanterns?”

The man nodded. “In the center of the garden, or along the walkway?” 

“The walkway. We want to light our guests’ way out, so there is little reason for them to stumble.” Evelyn took her leave, walking across the garden to where Diana and Charlotte were directing the set-up of a tent. 

The family was planning a garden party for the village the next day, and all the arrangements were to be thoroughly in place before the festivities began. There were sure to be some impressive names in attendance, but Evelyn was more excited about the tenants and villagers she had insisted made the guest list—the afternoon and evening entertainment would have the merriment of a village dance rather than the stuffy overtones of a London ball. 

“Is all well here?” she asked. 

Charlotte looked up, her cheeks bright. “Indeed. Diana was just telling me about your pet project—sister, you did not mention the school.”

Evelyn nodded, smiling. “I have hardly had time to write, with my responsibilities in that arena. Diana helped me set it up, and we have a small group of students already. It is considered rather astonishing that we are educating the boys and girls together, and that may be warding off some of our potential scholars.”

“I tell her we need to get the vicar involved to teach the boys,” Diana insisted, “but she is reluctant to hand their education over so easily. I think she enjoys the challenge.”

“I enjoy ascertaining that their learning environment is vibrant,” Evelyn corrected her friend gently. “The vicar is a fine enough gentleman, but you can tell from his sermons alone that he prizes discipline above all else. I fear the emphasis on nature and activity we currently have at the school would falter under his management.”

“Listen to you,” Charlotte murmured. “You have really taken this matter to heart.”

“Not without Diana’s help,” Evelyn hastened to add, picking up a glass, inspecting it, and setting it back on the table. “She is invaluable, when George can spare her.”

“Which is always,” Diana said with a laugh. “He is married first to me, of course, and I am assured always of his love, but I am also aware that his second wife is Hartwell Estate. He was born for management and is always running away to tend to his tenants or to check in on his newest agricultural invention.”

“That, there,” Evelyn said, gesturing to Diana with a matching grin. “That is why Nicholas depends on George so completely.” Turning to Charlotte, she explained, “The estate is prospering under his hand because he is unafraid of trying something new. He is not a farmer, naturally, and so he has no resistance to new farming ideas. He has all manner of rotational grazing plans in order, and a quite creative system of credit set up for the tenants.”

“The villagers must love him,” Charlotte said agreeably. 

“That is an understatement,” Evelyn said. “When you make a people prosperous, they are bound and determined to enshrine you.”

“This, spoken from the most beloved duke and duchess in England,” Diana teased. She added to Charlotte in a mock whisper, “I believe it is because whenever she visits tenants she brings a basket of scones from the Hartwell kitchens. They are impossible to replicate and melt in your mouth.”

“The way to a tenant’s heart is through his stomach,” Evelyn admitted, laughing. “Now, Charlotte. Enough about us. Tell me everything about London. You have been back for nearly half the year, have you not?”

Charlotte nodded, arching a brow. “And you will be able to smell the salt air on Edward still. I can always sense when he is ready to go back to sea—he grows a bit grouchy around the edges, and uses more nautical metaphors than any man should allow himself.”

“And you are already seeing these signs?” Evelyn pressed. 

“I am,” Charlotte said cheerfully, “but I do not mind. It would be a matter of sadder recourse if Edward left me and Daniel behind when he went to sea, but he does not. He always takes vessels with proper arrangements for ladies, and we accompany him sailing. I never expected I would be an adventurer at heart, but here we are.”

“London will miss you,” Diana said. “When I was last there visiting my parents, they talked about what a wave you make whenever you and the captain return. The life of the party, they say you are.”

“You and your parents are well, then?” Charlotte asked. “I had wondered…”

“It took them years to come around,” Diana admitted, “and I do not think they would have in the end if it weren’t for the girls. They simply cannot resist their own grandchildren.”

“It is good to reunite with parents at last,” Charlotte said quietly, shooting a quick glance at Evelyn. 

Evelyn knew what her sister was implying. In recent years, Charlotte had reestablished contact with Eleanor. The older woman was doing well and had married an older widower who kept her comfortably established in Northumberland. According to Charlotte, Eleanor had mellowed considerably since all her troublesome meddling in Evelyn’s life, and Charlotte’s relationship with her mother was restored. 

Evelyn was glad for them, but did not experience the same reconciliation herself. She felt no anger or bitterness when she thought of Eleanor now, just the peace of knowing that that season—and all the angst it had caused her—was officially in the past.  

She did not hate Eleanor, but nor did she desire relationship with her. She was content to watch Charlotte’s renewed relationship from a distance and remain in the safe embrace of her own family. 

The other players in that tragic tableau had long since departed England. Strope was in the Americas, last Evelyn had heard, having fled the country after his creditors exposed him. Victoria was married to a Russian lord and lived in that faraway, frozen country. Evelyn rarely thought of them and only with a passing dissatisfaction. 

“Evelyn!” Nicholas strode out of the house, interrupting their conversation. He was as handsome to Evelyn’s eyes as he had been the day they married, his long dark curls tumbling over his face as he hurried across the lawn and, stopping halfway from the house, beckoned her nearer. “I have urgent need of you!”

Evelyn shrugged at her friends and hurried away towards her husband. He so rarely spoke of urgency or emergencies of any sort, she assumed he was in earnest. When she reached his side he caught her hand up in his and pulled her inside without explanation, walking quickly down the marble hallways of the estate until he reached his study. 

Once there, he pushed the door open and led her inside. 

“What is so urgent?” she asked him, looking around with concern. 

“I needed your artistic advice about a new piece I acquired recently,” Nicholas said, his eyes sparkling. 

“Oh? Is that all?” Evelyn laughed lightly. “Well, you ought not to have phrased it quite as you did, for I assumed something drastic had happened…” She trailed off, looking where her husband pointed. 

He had cleared the wall in his study, upon which had once hung a large painting of a sailing ship. Now the ship was gone, nowhere to be seen, and in its place hung a collection of sketches, some small and some large, all done by Evelyn’s own hand in her signature black lines of charcoal. She caught her breath, taken aback. 

Nicholas came up behind her, winding his arms around her waist in the way she had come to love. 

“I wanted a moment alone with you before the events of tomorrow turn our world into the most delicious chaos,” he said, nuzzling her hair. “And I wanted you to see just how proud I am of the work you’ve done.”

Evelyn felt tears well in her eyes. There, in the center of the display, was the sketch she had drawn of their first night together. Two masked people, whirling in each other’s arms, falling in love without even knowing each other’s name. 

“Thank you,” she murmured. “You are too good to me, Nicholas.”

He turned her around and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “My Evelyn, you deserve nothing but goodness for the rest of your days.”

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