Extended Epilogue
2 Years Later
“Arthur! Do not ride too far ahead!” Selina called out.
The boy to whom she called was seven and had been on horseback since almost before he could walk. Marcus had taught him to be fearless when it came to horses and it still left Selina with her heart in her mouth at times.
“I’m fine mama!” he called back as he pushed the white mare to a gallop.
Selina rode side-saddle, one hand resting on her stomach which was beginning to bulge with the arrival of their fourth child. Arthur, the eldest, was the courageous scamp who lived for the outdoors. Emily, the second, was willowy and genteel, even at five. Peregrine, rode in front of his father, tangling his hands in the horse’s mane and cackling with the delight only a two-year-old can muster. Selina looked at her husband and raised an eyebrow. He grinned.
“Arthur, I believe your mother gave you an order!” he called out.
Arthur complained and griped but he wheeled his horse with the skill of a cavalryman and trotted back towards the others.
“You’re all so slow. Uncle Arthur will get tired of waiting. You know what he’s like.”
“He’s tired of waiting already,” Marcus said, “there he is.”
He pointed to the summit of the Old Gop and there was Arthur Roy. He had a long, thick white beard and a mane of hair that tumbled about his shoulders. He wore a tweed suit and carried a gnarled, oak staff that was taller than he. Selina grinned and waved as he began stumping his way down the hill towards them.
“Took you long enough, didn’t it? What’s the matter, forget your way, did you?” he called out.
It hadn’t taken long for Dai to return. It seemed that Arthur was far more comfortable with the persona of the irreverent Welshman than his own. He claimed that he didn’t know who Arthur Roy was so how could he act like him. He knew who Dai was, what he sounded like, what he looked like. He was like an old pair of boots, comfortable and well-fitted.
“Mama, can I go and greet him? Please?” Arthur pleaded.
“Oh, very well!” Selina relented with a smile, “but no more than a canter please. No galloping on the Gop. You know the rules.”
Arthur flashed a brilliant grin that was entirely his father and spurred his horse to a canter. As he reached his uncle, he swung from the saddle with the agility of a monkey and ran to embrace him.
“Well now, who’s this young Turk riding at me like a knight on his charger, eh? Think you’re fancy do you because you’ve got a fancy horse? Well, let me show you…”
He rummaged in his pocket for something. Selina couldn’t see what it was but knew that Arthur always had things to show the children. Little things of interest that he had picked up on his rambles across the Downs. The kind of things that would only ever interest a child or a man who has devoted himself to nature. That was Arthur. Emily looked to her father. She rode a small pony which was very docile. But, she had fallen under the spell of the Court during visits insisted upon by the Regent. She aspired to nothing so much as being a princess or queen and could think of nothing finer than that. But, there was fun to be had with Uncle Arthur and Selina could see the child torn between showing the proper decorum and pelting across the hillside after her older brother.
“Go, buttercup,” Marcus said, “even princesses get to have adventures sometimes.”
She grinned, jumping from the saddle of her pony, hugging it tightly, and then running to her Uncle. He greeted her by crouching and opening his arms wide. She ran into them and he pretended to be bowled over by her, falling backward into the long grass with a guffaw. His nephew whooped with glee and leaped into the melee himself. Peregrine clapped and made inarticulate squeaks as he watched the fun.
“I fear for your brother sometimes. Our children are too rough with him!” Selina said.
Marcus grinned. “He’s a child himself, I think. And tougher than an old boot. He will wear them out, not the other way around.”
His eyes lingered on her, as they always did. She was not as slender as she had been, not after three children. But Marcus seemed to find her more desirable with every passing day. Now, in full bloom with her fourth, Selina felt particularly cumbersome, but she took comfort in the adoration she saw in Marcus’ eyes. Seven years had changed him too. It had been seven years of hard work, which had left lines around his eyes and the first hints of silver in his hair. That work had seen the complete refurbishment of the Streatham Asylum and the opening of two others. Scholarships had been founded at Oxford, Cambridge, Glasgow, and Edinburgh to bring to qualification a new breed of doctors to run those asylums. The foundation that ran all of the asylums was named after Elizabeth Roy, Arthur and Marcus’ mother.
He had worked himself ferociously to make what had become his dream a reality. It had involved becoming friends with politicians and the wealthiest members of the ton, including the Regent. Selina knew that such work sickened him, that he wanted nothing more than the anonymity that Arthur enjoyed. The time and effort had taken its toll, but to Selina, it merely enhanced his handsome features. It gave him a dignity and gravitas that she liked. Behind them, Valebridge Castle shone. It was a symbol of a family that was proud and whose name was known up and down the country. The crest of the Roy family flew from a flagpole on the highest tower. The ancient walls which had once glowered, were now resplendent with coats of ivy and wisteria that flowered brilliant white in the summer. So vast were its halls that Selina had found she could open up much of its palatial space to the ordinary people. Armies of school children were brought by the cartload from the surrounding towns and villages to see the Castle and learn of its history.
Local priests were recruited to bring them from various Sunday schools but Selina, as Duchess, had recruited her own group of women to bring children from London. It was not simply sight-seeing, in the grounds they learned about farming and other essential skills. And soon, her first school would open in the grounds of Valebridge, specifically for those who could not afford to have their children schooled, and would eventually be joined by other schools in London, Birmingham, and even as far as Glasgow. She and Marcus had worked tirelessly to raise their own family. And to make the country proud of the name, Roy.
