Page 34 of A Lady’s Guide to Murder

EPILOGUE

Grenham Park, Berkshire

After Michaelmas, 1820

Butterflies danced in a gentle breeze as Henrietta tended to her flower garden, snipping early autumn blooms with her maid.

The sun was warm through her black silk mourning gown. Though the ache of Edmund’s absence was lessening, there was sorrow in her grief diminishing as well, and so she had resolved to wear black and grey for a year, to weave Edmund’s memory into the fabric of her life. A part of her would forever lament what might have been if he had lived. The prime minister he might have become; the child they might have raised; the ways their marriage might have matured and deepened over the years, like one of the fine wines he’d loved.

But another man resided in her heart now as well, and his place there didn’t feel like disloyalty. Edmund would have been happy for her. How he would have laughed at the joke, his grey eyes twinkling in delight, that she’d unknowingly fallen in love with his half-brother. A man who embodied the same admirable traits of honour and kindness.

The clip of hooves on the gravel drive turned her head, and once she convinced herself the vision before her was real, and no figment of her imagination, her heart leapt.

It was Theo, arriving on the black gelding Perceval had gifted in gratitude for services rendered to the Percy family.

Her body tingling with excited anticipation, Henrietta placed the scissors and blooms in her maid’s basket. Though they’d exchanged letters, she hadn’t seen Theo in almost three months and it was all she could do not to hike up her skirts and fly to him in a most undignified manner. After a week spent recovering at her parents’ house, they’d parted ways, so she could retire discreetly to the country for her mourning, and so that Theo could address the offers of employment he’d received after his article.

‘D’ye want me to take the flowers inside, Your Grace?’ her maid asked, her unusual eyes sparkling – one light green and the other pale blue.

Henrietta smiled at the girl. When she’d offered to provide an education for Jim King’s remaining daughter, who wished to be a clerk, he’d agreed only if thirteen-year-old Maisy served as Henrietta’s maid while pursuing her education. ‘Yes, Maisy, please do. Put them in water and I will arrange the vases later. Then you may attend to your lessons with Mrs Aldworth.’ The local vicar’s wife, who had once been a governess, taught Maisy penmanship, composition and bookkeeping in the parsonage just down the lane.

As Maisy walked away, Theo dismounted, handed his horse to a groom and approached, hat in hand, the autumnal sunlight highlighting the golden tones in his brown hair.

He bowed deeply. ‘Your Grace.’

She laughed. ‘Goodness, do stop. You still manage to make it sound sarcastic.’

‘I assure you, that is your imagination,’ he replied, hand over heart. ‘You are the embodiment of grace.’

‘Silly man.’ She scolded him to disguise how madly her heart fluttered. ‘Now tell me how you managed to arrive so swiftly, when I sent my reply to your query only this morning? Does your horse fly?’

‘I confess I didn’t wait for your letter. I realised I needed to see you, even if you turned me from your door.’

‘You knew perfectly well I’d welcome you with open arms. In fact, come into the walled garden so I can greet you properly after an absence of nearly three months.’

He grinned and she took his arm.

There were two walled gardens at Grenham: the kitchen garden, with its produce protected from rabbits and roes, and the smaller medicinal garden, less often entered and fragrant with the scent of herbs and wildflowers. Rosemary, thyme, sage. Horseradish and garlic. Lavender, marigold, and yarrow.

She guided Theo to the medicinal garden and latched the wooden door behind them. Then she wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him deeply.

The sensation was instantly familiar – that of dissolving into his embrace, craving nothing but his companionship, his presence, his love.

The feeling of being home.

When they at last broke their kiss, she laid her cheek against his shoulder. He smelt of ink and warmth and Theo. ‘I’ve missed you terribly.’

‘Same, my darling.’ He kissed her forehead tenderly. ‘How have you been?’

‘Well enough. And you?’

‘Lovesick, but busy.’

‘Congratulations again on your post with the Westminster Morning Journal ,’ she said, referring to Theo’s new employer, one of Britain’s leading political newspapers. ‘Does it bring you satisfaction?’

‘As much as I look to work for personal satisfaction, yes. Since I can’t vote or stand for Parliament, I never expected to have real opportunity to influence political agendas, so in that sense, it’s a dream come true. It’s simply that my work is no longer the dream of my life.’

Her heart skipped, for she strongly suspected she was the dream of his life. ‘I love you,’ she whispered into his neckcloth, hoping the declaration would encourage any question he might wish to ask her. For surely he had a reason for this unexpected visit?

‘I love you, too.’ But he sounded sad and he disengaged from their embrace after kissing her once more. ‘I’m here for a reason, other than wanting to see you.’

She knew from his tone of voice he hadn’t come for the reason she’d hoped. But she tucked her disappointment away. That beautiful, longed-for time would come when it was meant to be.

Her gaze fell to the folded broadsheet Theo pulled from an inner pocket of his tailcoat.

Unlike other newspapers, the Westminster printed headlining news rather than advertisements on its front page, and so she immediately saw The Death of Marlow in bold print and under that, the name of the author. Theodore Hawke .

‘Ah, the deed is done.’ She felt oddly flat. There was no serenity, no additional peace with the news that Marlow had hanged. The world would not miss the vile viscount, but his death didn’t bring back Edmund.

‘I wanted to bring you this in person before your copy arrives with the London post later.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, but she didn’t move to take the paper.

‘Do you want me to read it to you?’ he asked.

‘No. You are kind to bring it, but this is the first thing you have written that I shan’t read – not for some time, at least. But you may tell me about it, briefly.’

Theo returned the newspaper to his coat pocket and gestured to a stone bench. ‘Perhaps we should sit?’

She agreed, for her legs had gone wobbly and her stomach churned.

Once seated, Theo cuddled her against him, which helped restore her equilibrium. ‘It happened yesterday morning,’ he said. ‘Since the weather was fine and Marlow was despised, it attracted the largest crowd I have ever seen. No doubt the novelty of a peer hanging was an additional draw. I watched from a rooftop, so I had an unobstructed view and avoided the crush. The crowd was festive, as is so often the case with executions. That always saddens me. No matter how evil the person or the deeds done, there is a perversity, I think, in taking pleasure in a death.’

‘Did you write that in your article?’ Henrietta asked.

‘No, for now I’m sharing that thought only with you. This article was not the place to protest capital punishment. Feelings were too strong around Marlow’s death and his crime was too grievous. The murders of both the People’s Duke and of Eliza King left too many thirsting for his blood. He had to hang, as his fellow lords knew when they proclaimed him guilty.’

Henrietta nodded against Theo’s shoulder. ‘Did Marlow go bravely to his death?’

‘He didn’t weep or resist or beg, so he was brave enough, I suppose. But he was belligerent and scornful. Spat at the jeering crowds before his head was covered. They repaid him by singing Eliza King’s song as the noose was tightened and the drop fell, so those were the last words he heard in this life.’

‘Poor Libby.’ Henrietta sighed. ‘Her death will always sadden me. Had life been kinder to her, she might have channelled her talents solely to greatness.’

‘Indeed, my love.’

Henrietta sat up and folded her hands in her lap. On the far side of the garden, a robin hopped about industriously. As she watched it peck at the rich soil, a single tear trailed down her cheek. ‘Did Marlow die immediately, or did he suffer?’

‘An instant death, it seemed. Does that disappoint you?’

‘No, no,’ she said. ‘I am not so cold-hearted, though I still have terrible dreams of poor Edmund’s suffering.’

As Theo patted her folded hands, the robin stretched his wings and took flight over the garden wall. Gratitude swelled inside Henrietta. She gave thanks for her home, her estate and all she could provide for the comfort of others, from her tenants to the villagers to the vicar’s wife to Maisy – and even the soaring robin, his red breast round over his full stomach.

Henrietta would not dwell in darkness.

Onwards and upwards, like the robin.

‘Ah, well, so there it is, and both the people and the peers are satisfied,’ she said primly. ‘Thank you for telling me, but I don’t think I shall want to talk about this again for a long time, if ever.’

‘How are you, truly?’ he asked, squeezing her hands. Her wedding ring dug into the sides of her fingers. It was one Percy jewel she had no intention of relinquishing during her lifetime, and Perceval hadn’t asked for it when she returned the other items so they would be ready for his bride. Jane Babcock was soon to be the new Duchess of Severn, upon which time Henrietta would be known by the dreadful-sounding title of ‘Dowager Duchess of Severn’. She was far too young to be a dowager.

‘Truly, I’m managing, Theo. All is not quite as I want, but I love Grenham and I love having a home of my own. I received great satisfaction in watching the harvest come in. Though the late summer was wet, the crops fared better than they have in many years, so there was real cause for joy amongst the tenants.’ She smiled. ‘James Beaucastle has taught me a great deal. Indeed, he calls upon me nearly every week and he’s become a lovely friend. His companion comes as well – a Mr Herridge, who is a perfect dear. Oh, and Mr Herridge has a little boy! His nephew, you see, adopted from a sister with ever so many children. The boy’s name is Oliver, and he’s six years old and such a darling – but the poor love was dreadfully frightened of me at first, until I took him to watch the harvest one afternoon and then we decided there was a haystack simply begging to be jumped in. Afterwards, he told me duchesses aren’t so terrifying, after all.’

Theo grinned. ‘The duchess farmer and her young protégé.’

‘There’s something wholesome and healing about stewarding the land, and simply being a part of a country community,’ Henrietta said, looking at her hands. ‘It won’t fulfil me for ever, but it works for now.’

‘And then?’

‘Well, I hope you aren’t too happy with your current employment.’

Surprise flickered in his eyes. ‘Why?’

She smiled. Recently, she’d begun to dream of ways to support the causes dear to her heart and she’d decided that founding a periodical dedicated to discussing peaceful progress towards much-needed reforms was a perfect place to begin. ‘Because I intend to start a newspaper and I shall need an editor.’

A shadow of something crossed Theo’s face, but then he returned her smile. ‘Henrietta, you should be the editor.’

‘I know nothing about it.’

‘You know more than you think you do, but I would be happy to assist for a time until you feel confident.’

He looked at her and Henrietta could see the depth of his admiration in his eyes, and her heart flipped again. He truly believed in her. The real her, not the lady in a gilded cage, but the woman who sought to free herself from those constraints. To carve out her own place in the world and set an example for other women to follow, should they wish to fly against convention as well.

She threw her arms around him again. ‘Dearest Theo, I have missed you so much I could hardly bear it.’

‘As have I, Henrietta.’ His lips found hers and there was nothing but that feeling of wholeness, of completion, of home.

When they parted for a breath, he spoke against her cheek. ‘Henrietta, I have no right to ask, though I love you as much as any man ever loved any woman. I have nothing, and no one would look kindly on our union. Everyone will think me a treasure-hunter when it’s not your money I want in the least. In truth, I wish you were penniless and in need of a protector and a provider, for then I could come to you—’

‘Oh, stop, Theo, stop!’

He drew in a sharp breath and buried his head on her shoulder. ‘You’re correct. I must stop – even I would advise you against accepting me. If you marry again, it should be to a lord, someone from your class, someone who can match your wealth and station—’

‘For heaven’s sake, you really must stop.’ She smiled as she broke their embrace. ‘Just ask me, Theo. Just ask.’

Slowly, amazement overtook his face, but there was caution in his voice when he spoke. ‘You can’t be serious, my love? You would not give up being the Dowager Duchess of Severn to become plain Mrs Hawke?’

‘Well, I would, if it came to that,’ she said, laughing. ‘But it won’t. I’m still the daughter of a marquess, so I could never be plain missus anything. I shall be Lady Henrietta Hawke and I happen to think that sounds very well indeed. Now, I do wish you’d ask me.’

Then Theo rapidly went into action, rising from the bench only to kneel at her feet and take her hand. ‘Henrietta, I love you with every breath I take and I shall love you for the rest of my life. Since the first day I beheld you, there has been no other who could compete with you in my heart. Though I can bring nothing to our marriage but my adoration, my mind and my determination, I shall endeavour to be worthy of your love, and I ask for nothing in return. Keep your properties and your money in trust against me. I want you to—’

‘Oh, my heavens,’ Henrietta said in exasperation. ‘I know you are a man of words, but this really is too much. Just ask.’

He gazed up at her with such intense love it took her breath away. ‘Henrietta, will you marry me?’

‘Yes, Theodore, yes!’ She pulled him beside her on the bench so she could throw herself into his arms. ‘Yes, yes and yes.’

For a time, their embrace was enough, for there was nothing to do but bask in their joy. Then, after sharing the most perfect of kisses, she placed a hand on his cheek.

‘But there are two stipulations.’

His expression grew serious. ‘Anything.’

‘I want you to be the owner of Grenham, in the usual manner of a wife’s property becoming the husband’s upon marriage.’

He protested, but Henrietta stopped him by placing her hand over his lips.

‘No, don’t argue. I will safeguard my dowry as well as the fortune and Welsh estate I inherited from Edmund, because I do wish to keep my autonomy, but I want to share Grenham with you. I want to make you a man of property, so you can vote, and so you can stand for Parliament one day.’

His face clouded with gratitude. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he spoke again, his voice shook. ‘Thank you, my love.’

Her heart swelled. ‘You see, a lady also can feel pleasure in being a provider. It needn’t all be one-sided.’

‘Yes, we shall both provide, for we will each have times of need and times of strength. But you spoke of two stipulations and you have given only one so far.’

‘The second is that we must wait until July to marry. I want to give Edmund the respectful period of mourning he deserves.’

Theo drew in another breath, but he nodded. ‘I understand. Of course. We must do what is right. Nine more months is nothing – I’d wait decades if you asked it of me. I agree it is for the best, for you might meet someone else in the interim, in which case I shall of course release you—’

Henrietta laughed, shaking her head. ‘You really are talking far too much today, Theodore. I shan’t change my mind. You and I shall wed next summer. In London, for all to see, and think what they will, for that is how I intend to live now. I shall be proud of you, proud of us, proud of our love for each other, and the work we embark on together.’

‘As will I, though proud doesn’t even begin to cover my feelings.’ He kissed her again and then rose. ‘I should return to London. I’ll make myself scarce in the upcoming months, so you may have all the space you need to mourn, but if I might continue to write to you?’

Henrietta waved her fingers. ‘Naturally you must write me beautiful love letters, but don’t spend many hours upon the task. I shall require frequent visits, for as long as you can spare from town. You know I dislike a cold bed.’

‘But the wait?’ he asked, clearly confused.

‘Nine months until we wed, but certainly not nine months apart. These last three have been unbearable. We must be together as often as possible – so you can teach me newspaper editing and I can show you the ways of a country squire. There’s no time to waste, so you must stay tonight.’

His brow furrowed. ‘Are you not concerned about the potential scandal?’

‘Don’t tell me Theodore Hawke is afraid of a little gossip,’ she said teasingly. ‘Just … no children yet, sweetheart. Only after we marry.’

He agreed readily. ‘And then how many, love?’

‘Dozens.’ She laughed. ‘Half of them boys, and the other half girls every bit as strong and wild as their brothers – but now I think that’s enough conversation, Mr Hawke.’

‘What do you want instead, Your Grace?’ he asked with a smile.

She nodded to a secluded niche filled with potted herbs. ‘Five years ago, I invited you to take liberties with me in a garden, and you refused. I hope you won’t refuse again?’

His smile broadened and he picked her up, throwing her legs over his forearm and holding her as securely as a babe against his chest. ‘I always regretted that decision, so I shall relish the opportunity to make amends.’

‘You regretted the decision not to kiss me that day?’ she asked as he made his way to the niche. She knew the answer, but she wanted to hear him say it again. And maybe a thousand more times, over the course of the many, many happy years to come.

He hefted her more securely against him. ‘Every time I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, every day after that, your face came to my mind, with your lips pursed, offering me that delicious kiss. So, yes, I regretted it daily. Or nightly, rather.’

Henrietta nestled against his shoulder. ‘I knew you were obsessed with me.’

‘And I always will be, darling.’