Page 22 of The Valentine Skates

There was something about Emily’s forceful, no-nonsense spirit that had appealed to Howick and comforted him during the nerve-wracking months the rest of his family had been out of the country on a dangerous quest.

Lydia’s husband was now Major Neville, and they and their growing brood of children were on station at the British consulate in Constantinople. After the secret missions he’d undertaken for the Admiralty while in Africa, the Foreign Office had decreed his unique knowledge of Middle Eastern languages and cultures should not be wasted back in England. Lydia had apologized because they would not be able to attend Emily’s wedding, but she’d sent the young couple piles of lush fabrics to decorate their home, and special lengths for gowns for Emily.

Lili finished weaving the flowers into a simple crown for the bride to wear along with the pearl garland just as Margaret slipped the simple rose silk dress over Emily’s head. “There,” she said. “Stand still while I fasten your crown in place with a pin.” Thank God she was quick, because Emily immediately dashed out the door and into her father’s arms. Margaret and Lili followed close behind to her brother’s ornate carriage waiting outside Weyford Manor to take them to the chapel.

Lili smiled at the way Emily leaned into Frederick’s shoulder on the opposite seat while she and Margaret squeezed together on the opposite side with Freddy.

Her son finally broke the tense silence as only he could. “Will you ever come see me and Mr. Withers again, Em?” He didn’t exactly cry, but tears glistened in his eyes.

Frederick pointed a long, work-calloused finger at his son. “Don’t.”

Freddy quieted and settled back next to Lili into the soft squabs of her brother’s carriage, obviously knowing by now what his father meant with that one, pointed order. Lili had always marveled at the way her husband had with their children.

When she was frustrated with their behavior, she would cajole and plead. He could command obedience and respect with one word. Over the years, she’d come to suspect the children were afraid they’d disappointed their father somehow when he delivered his famous one-word commands.

When she finally settled back and took in a deep breath, Frederick caught her eye and winked.

The ancient Howick chapel’s stone walls seemed to warm at the crowd of friends and relatives lining the unyielding wooden benches. Howick had hired a small string and brass orchestra to entertain the wedding guests, and they were performing a piece from Handel’sMusic for the Royal Fireworkswhen Lili and Margaret walked quickly to an empty front bench reserved for the family.

Lili’s mother had passed away five years earlier, and now Howick, who had vowed to end his days alone, sat bouncing his heir on his knee, while the babe’s mother attempted to sooth the lad’s obvious teething pain with a small piece of ice from Wembledon’s ice house.

The serene, beautiful woman rubbing the newest Howick’s tender gums seemed oblivious to the child’s nurse who leaned close, anxious to help. Her days of fame on the London stage were over, and truth to tell, she didn’t seem to mind. Howick’s marchioness seemed to fill that role as magnificently as she had many others, such asTitaniaandLady Macbeth.

Once his mother passed peacefully in her sleep, Howick had decided suddenly to ignore the censure of thetonand marry the woman he’d loved in secret for years. He’d explained to Lili that after all the heartache their family had endured, he’d come to realize he couldn’t turn his back on the only joy he’d known since his first wife had died giving birth to Lydia.

His mother’s surviving circle of aging friends and gorgons of theton, who had ruled from the wings of the social, and political, stage for decades, closed ranks behind him when he made the decision to marry the woman he loved. They’d supported the newlyweds until all gossip and censure had finally died down.

When the musicians played another march from the collection of bright music, Lili turned in her seat, along with the rest of the congregation to watch Frederick walk Emily down the flag-stoned floor of the chapel to the altar where her late grandfather’s replacement as vicar awaited with her young bridegroom.

Lili couldn’t be happier. She’d forgiven herself long ago and no longer cared what might or might not be said behind her back. The dark days of her captivity in Algiers were far in the past and besides, she was too busy with her present life to dwell on the darkness: Her newly married daughter would be only a few miles away, and her curious, unpredictable son needed her guidance. Her husband still welcomed her inventive love-making in their shared bed each night, and now there was a slight flutter in her womb that she half welcomed but half feared might be merely a wisp of her imagination.

Another keeper of the land, like his father? Or perhaps a keeper of the realm, like his uncle? Maybe a strong woman to keep the land and its people safe into the next generation? Whoever showed up some nine months hence, Lili would need to make sure a certain tattered, stuffed bear would be in the nursery to watch over her…or him.

~ The End ~