Chaperoned by Her Enemy Duke – Extended Epilogue

Four years later…

Sunlight streamed through the nursery windows, warming Cecelia’s back as she rested upon a pile of cushions on the floor atop the centre rug. With her hand upon her swollen belly, she watched her daughter – Mary – playing with her governess, moving around her favourite wooden horses, giving them names and making noises as if she were a horse herself.

She had got that from her father, his love of horses, and those noises, along with Mary’s laugh and chatter, were music to Cecelia’s ears.

“Careful now, Mary,” Cecelia warned as her daughter’s play became a little too excitable, chuckling to herself as she realized just how alike her mother she now sounded.

She winced as she felt a sharp jab beneath her ribs, and Mary’s governess’s attention flashed towards her. “Is all well, Your Grace?”

Cecelia smiled and said, “I do believe someone is getting ready to come out and play.”

Mary, who seemed not to have noticed her mother’s exclamation, lifted her attention from her toys and looked to Cecelia’s stomach.

Seeing the hope in those big green eyes – eyes that were in fact just like her own – Cecelia held out her free hand to her daughter and said, “Come and sit with me.”

The little girl, her hair a deepest russet brown, hurried from her playthings and plopped herself down onto the cushions beside her.

Cecelia grabbed her little hand and pressed it to her stomach where she had last felt the babe kick.

They chased the little monster around and around her stomach until finally she watched her daughter’s eyes light up. “I can feel it!”

Happiness exploded within Cecelia as she watched her daughter lean over and whisper to her belly, “Don’t you hurt our mummy, mister, or I will not share my toys with you!”

The innocence of her words, the love already clear in her tone, made Cecelia’s eyes brim with tears.

At the sound of carriage wheels crunching on gravel through the open nursery window, Cecelia ruffled her daughter’s hair and asked, “Are you going to help Mama get up? I do believe your guests are arriving.”

Cecelia didn’t believe her daughter’s eyes could get any bigger, but somehow they did.

Her little hand grabbed Cecelia’s and, though there was no way she had the strength to do so, she began to try and pull Cecelia to her feet.

“Let me help you, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Anna,” Cecelia said as the governess helped her up.

The woman, who was perhaps only a few years older than Cecelia was herself, dipped her head and stepped away respectfully to allow Cecelia an unobstructed path to the door.

“Do you think they brought presents?” Mary exclaimed as she bypassed her toys and her mother and hurried down the hall.

Cecelia and Anna looked to each other, their expressions mirrors of amusement as they followed the almost four-year-old down the hallway.

“Anyone might think it was the week of her birthday,” came a voice from the upstairs library, and George appeared in the doorway, a smile on his face that matched theirs.

Mary, already having passed the door, skidded to a halt at the sound of his voice and doubled back.

“Papa!” she cried, and he crouched down to meet her as she threw herself at him.

“Mar-Mar,” he said in delight, laughing as she squealed when he stood quickly and threw her into the air. “I do hope you have been having the most wonderful time with Mama and Anna in the nursery whilst I have been hard at work.”

“Papa works too hard,” Mary said, her innocent tone causing them all to laugh even harder.

Cecelia stepped up beside them and brushed back Mary’s russet hair as she said, “You’re right, little one, Papa does work too hard.”

“I must if I am to earn enough to keep buying our little princess all of the ponies, and dolls, and clothes, she keeps asking me for.”

“We do not need any of that, do we, Mar-Mar?” Cecelia said, and together, she and her daughter added, “We just need papa.”

Cecelia’s heart swelled, and it was clear that George’s had too as he kissed Mary upon her forehead and leaned over to give Cecelia one upon the cheek.

At the sound of the front door opening in the foyer below, Mary wriggled in her father’s arms, and Cecelia asked, “Anna, would you please escort the birthday girl downstairs to greet her guests? We shall follow on.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Anna said, taking Mary from her father.

As soon as his arms were free, George wrapped them around Cecelia and placed a hand upon her huge, swollen stomach. “Is the little one giving you grief?”

“What gave you that impression?” she asked, laying her hand over his, though she knew what he meant even before he answered.

“You look exhausted,” he said, and with great humour, he added, “and you are waddling like the ducks down at the pond.”

Cecelia feigned offence and tapped him playfully upon the shoulder.

“You are supposed to tell me that I am beautiful and that I am positively glowing!”

George pulled her closer and kissed her, this time upon the lips.

“You are beautiful and you are positively glowing,” he assured her, brushing back a curl from her face, “but I do so hate to see you in discomfort.”

“Yes, well, let’s get through this weekend and then hopefully this little one shall make his arrival,” Cecelia said, stroking her stomach.

“His?” George asked, lifting a brow.

Cecelia nodded, her lips twitching upwards in a smile. She shrugged her shoulders and said, “It’s just a feeling.”

“My mother always said a mother knows best,” George said, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of a son. “But as I said before, I shall be happy no matter what he or she is.”

Cecelia pushed awkwardly onto her tiptoes, her stomach leaving her off balance, and kissed his cheek. “And that is why I shall always love you, Georgie.”

“And I you, Cece,” he responded, kissing her again.

They were interrupted by a call from down the stairs. “Where is that ever-growing sister of mine?”

“I am being summoned.” Cecelia laughed, and she gripped hold of George’s arm for support as together they made their way downstairs.

Ravenshollow, once a quiet place, was suddenly a whirlwind of chaos as their guests all tumbled into the house.

Mary and Walter, with their one-year-old twin boys, George and William, both Cecelia’s and George’s mothers, both of their servants laden with gifts for their granddaughter, and behind them, Elizabeth.

Cecelia, unsure who to greet first, and practically invisible as everyone crammed forth to be the first to say hello to the birthday girl, looked instead to the newcomer who followed behind Elizabeth.

“Henry!” George exclaimed, and Cecelia smiled as her husband hurried forth to greet his old school and wartime friend, “what a wonderful surprise!”

“I do hope you do not mind that I extended an invitation?” Elizabeth said as she, too, received a warm welcome from George.

Cecelia looked at Elizabeth, who had become even closer of a friend over the last few years, and raised a brow of suspicion.

As if her expression cracked something inside her, Elizabeth cried, “Oh, I cannot contain it any longer! Henry and I are to be married!”

Cecelia surged forward, as quickly as her stomach would allow, and embraced her friend. “That is truly wonderful news!”

“It shall be your turn next,” Cecelia heard her sister, Mary say to Catherine, and out of the corner of her eye, she watched her youngest sister stick out her tongue.

Her debut was coming up, and Cecelia feared she might not quite be ready, but she remembered she had thought the same of herself in the beginning.

“There appears to be so much to celebrate!” George said. “Why don’t we all go through to the drawing room whilst your things are unpacked?”

“Oh, yes,” Cecelia’s mother said, “I could do with a sit down.”

“Mama, you have been sitting down all the way here.” Catherine chuckled, and the dowager scowled back at her daughter.

“When you get to my age, you shall understand,” she said, “and besides, there are grandchildren to be cuddled.”

Though Cecelia had heard similar such words from her mother in the years since Mary had been born, it was still a shock to her. She couldn’t quite remember her mother ever having cuddled her or her sisters.

“You’re getting soft in your old age, Mama,” George said affectionately, as if he, too, thought the same thing.

“Soft? I don’t think you shall be saying that when she and your mother begin battling over who gets to cuddle her first,” Walter said, the look upon his face a mixture of amusement and terror. “I, for one, shall not be standing in the way when that happens.”

Mary tapped her husband playfully in the stomach and said, “Help me with the boys?”

“Of course, my love,” Walter said, and he kissed her upon the cheek before helping her into the drawing room with their twins.

Cecelia watched them all go, her smile broadening until she felt as if her cheeks might break.

It was only when Mary – her sister – was the last, that she stepped forward.

Mary caught hold of her arm as she was about to step inside and pulled her aside as she whispered, “Have you heard the news?”

Cecelia raised a brow and pursed her lips.

“What news?”

“The news of Fitzwilliam,” Mary said, and Cecelia cringed at the mention of him.

As if he sensed what their conversation was about, George appeared back in the doorway and said, “I received the letter only this morning.”

“What letter?” Cecelia demanded, looking between the two of them. “Are the two of you keeping secrets from me again? Need I remind you, Georgie, I am your wife now and you must tell me everything?”

George smiled and offered her a mischievous expression before it became far more serious.

“They finally passed judgement on the disgrace of a man,” George explained.

“Really?” Cecelia blinked.

It had been a long and hard road after George’s initial evidence had seemed swept under the rug, but slowly and surely, others had begun to come forward, gentlemen and noblemen, even some ladies, all of whom had been blackmailed, manipulated, and betrayed by Fitzwilliam.

It had been two years since his final incarceration, and Cecelia had begun to wonder whether he might perhaps simply be left to rot.

“What was his sentence?” Cecelia asked, unsure as to whether she truly wished to know.

“Transportation,” George said.

“He is being sent to the colonies,” Mary said simultaneously.

Cecelia’s hand flew to her mouth. Though she knew he deserved that and worse, Cecelia couldn’t help feeling sorry for the man – or at least the one he had pretended to be – knowing that so few prisoners survived the long voyage to the colonies.

“How awful!” she exclaimed, and George stepped forward to wrap his arm around her waist.

He pulled her close and kissed the side of her head.

“And that is why I was going to wait until this evening to share the news with you,” he said, offering Mary a stern glower, which she returned in a playful, sisterly manner.

“She may be with child, but she shall not break like a cracked vase if she learns of something awful,” Mary insisted.

“You would know, I suppose,” George said, glancing into the room where the twins were receiving an awful lot of attention besides young Mary. “Your boys are absolutely the most precious things I have ever seen. Save for our Mar-Mar, of course.”

He pulled Cecelia closer, and she smiled.

“I rather think they shall have some competition when this little one comes along,” Mary said, reaching out to lay her hand on Cecelia’s stomach, “how are you feeling?”

“Exhausted,” Cecelia admitted, taking hold of her sister’s hand to guide her into the drawing room, “come and sit with me and tell me all about what they have been up to.”

She was more than a little glad to get off the subject of Fitzwilliam, and Mary was so proud of her boys that it didn’t take much to get her talking.

The hum of conversation, laughter, and joy that filled the room was enough to wash away any negativity that the mention of his name had brought, and Cecelia relaxed back onto the couch, a protective hand upon her stomach.

She and Mary talked and – as predicted by Walter – theirs and George’s mothers began to argue over who could cuddle young Mary first.

The cooing and crying of George and William reminded Cecelia that soon she would have another baby to care for, and she absentmindedly stroked her stomach with little circles, smiling to herself every time a kick came in response.

The family shared news, gossip, and all manner of things before, finally, the butler came to speak with her husband.

Cecelia raised an eyebrow at him, and when he noticed her watching, he announced to all, “If you would all follow me out onto the lawn, something awaits us that would like to meet the birthday girl.”

The noise intensified as everyone began to question his announcement. All of them began to gather, and Walter and Elizabeth picked up the twins whilst the grandmothers took one of the birthday girl’s hands each.

George came directly to her and held out a hand to Cecelia, plucking her up from where she had been marooned within the couch cushions.

“Steady,” he said, holding her until she found her balance, one hand upon her stomach.

“What are you up to, Georgie?” she asked, holding him close.

With a playful wink, George said, “You shall see,” and he glanced at their daughter before he added, “I wouldn’t wish to spoil the surprise.”

“Then we had better hurry before she gets too excited and explodes,” Cecelia chuckled, and together, they followed the rest of the family out of the house and onto the lawn where three groomsmen awaited them, two of them holding up a large white sheet as if there was something magnificent behind it.

Cecelia’s own excitement started to hitch up as George helped her down the steps and onto the grass.

“What on earth have you done?” she asked. “Please, tell me it is not what I think it is.”

George’s smile was practically criminal as he pulled her closer and whispered, “You know I can’t say no to those eyes of hers.”

Cecelia rolled her own, remembering the conversation they had shared on the ship home from their honeymoon so long ago. “I suppose I should have known.”

Guiding Cecelia to stand with their daughter, George wandered out in front of them, between them and the sheet that was hiding her present, and announced, “In honour of our beautiful daughter’s birthday, I give you all Biscuit!”

As he threw his arms wide, the groomsmen dropped the sheet to reveal a sandy-haired pony, its mane and tail so white they almost didn’t look natural.

“A pony!” Mary exclaimed, releasing the hands of both her grandmothers simultaneously.

“A pony,” Cecelia said, far less enthusiastically, looking sternly at her husband as Mary hurried forward to play with her gift.

Cecelia, trying not to waddle like a duck, stepped to her husband’s side. “I thought we agreed not to get her a pony until she was at least five?”

George pulled her into his arms with a shrug of his shoulders. “What difference does a year make, truly?”

Dropping her annoyed guise, Cecelia placed her hand over her husband’s heart and said, “You are far too soft.”

“I remember that once you thought me cold-hearted,” George reminded her, his fingers stroking the small of her back.

“You were when you tried so hard not to be soft.” Cecelia chuckled.

“Yes, well, you were enough to thaw even the most frozen of hearts,” George said, kissing her forehead. He added more loudly, “And, speaking of hearts, Mary, take a look upon Biscuit’s bridle.”

George gripped hold of Cecelia’s hand then and guided her closer to Biscuit as their daughter did just as he suggested.

“Is this for me?” Mary exclaimed, her small voice louder than Cecelia had ever heard it.

“Wow, dear, she’s beginning to compete with you on that voice of hers,” Walter said, to which he received a scathing glare from elder Mary.

But Cecelia could not laugh, for she was utterly lost for words when she saw what young Mary was holding in her hands. She even raised her hand to the pendant at her chest just to be certain it was still there.

“Look, Mama, it is just like yours!” Mary cried as George leant beside her to unclasp the necklace from Biscuit’s bridle.

Holding it aloft, he asked his daughter, “May I?”

For one brief moment, their rambunctious, rebellious little girl was positively lady-like as she spun and swept her hair aside for her father to place the pendant around her neck.

“Mama may have my heart, little one,” George told her as he spun her back around to kiss her upon her head, “but you shall always have a piece of it too.”

“And the baby, will he have a piece of it, too?” Mary asked, her large green eyes pleading.

George ruffled her hair, nodding before he turned to look at everyone else and ask, “Does everybody know that this baby is a boy save for me?”

“Yes!” everyone crowed, and the laughter filled the air.

And though it might not have been true, Cecelia was almost certain. She felt it right down into her bones, remembering how she had felt much the same way when she had been certain she had been carrying a girl the first time around.

“In that case,” George said, scooting forward on his knees to kneel at Cecelia’s feet. He cupped her belly with both his hands as he asked, “Jeremy, are you going to be wanting a pony, too, because if so, I rather think we shall be needing a bigger stable.”

Whilst everyone laughed, none of them seemingly paying attention to the name he had bestowed upon their child, Cecelia held back tears as she echoed, “Jeremy?”

Rising to his feet, George took her in his arms all over again and assured her, “Of course. How could we not name our firstborn son after his sorely missed grandfather?”

As if she, too, had registered it, Cecelia’s mother approached, holding out her hands to them both. And as they each took a hand, she said, “Your father would have been so honoured. I only wish he were here to see the wonderful lives you have made for yourself.”

Cecelia glanced towards the sky then before she told her mother, “He is, Mama, he has always been right here with all of us.”

Her mother released George’s hand then, pulling her into her embrace, and Cecelia felt a well of emotion bubble up inside her.

“Come now, Mama,” she insisted, pulling back. “If I start to weep, I shall never be able to stop.”

“In that case, it is most certainly a boy,” Mary interjected, looking to her twins. “These two had me weeping every hour on the hour.”

Cecelia’s mother gave her hand one last squeeze before she responded to young Mary’s calling her to meet her new pet. “I had better go and meet Biscuit,” she said as she slipped Cecelia’s hand into George’s, leaving them for a private moment alone as everyone else crowded around young Mary and her new pony.

Cecelia watched happily as her Uncle Walter plucked her up from the ground and set her down on the pony’s back.

“I would face a thousand days at war just to see that smile upon her face,” George whispered as he pulled her close.

Bile rose in Cecelia’s throat at the thought of it.

Lying her hand on his chest, she insisted, “Never again. We need you here.”

She pulled his hand to her stomach before she added, “We all need you here.”

George caressed her stomach, and gazing down at her, he said, “How could I ever go another day without looking into these eyes?”

Cecelia pushed up onto her tiptoes to kiss him before she whispered, “So that you know, you have my heart also.”

“I love you more and more each day, Cece,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

Rubbing the tip of her nose against his, she responded, “I love you too, Georgie.”

As if he felt their child’s kick upon his abdomen, he leant down and added with his hand where the baby had kicked, “And I love you also, Jeremy.”

“I warned you I would not be able to stop from weeping,” Cecelia exclaimed as her eyes burst with tears, happy tears at just how far they had come.

They had battled through childhood, through long years spent apart during the war, through their own and each other’s stubbornness to find themselves here.

And at that moment, Cecelia knew, if she had to face it all again just to be with him …

… she would.

THE END