Extended Epilogue
Violet glided through the woods that surrounded her new home at Lorchester Manor. She walked barefoot, one hand resting on the bump that had grown in the last few months at her front. The first child of the Duke and Duchess of Lorchester. The woods had become her favorite place, the babbling streams, and cool, earthy dells as well as the gently sloping hills offering views across the Hampshire countryside. She felt as at home there as she once had in a gilded ballroom, surrounded by Lords and Ladies, Kings, Princes, and Queens. Alexander walked beside her, also barefoot.
His hair remained long and untamed, his beard now reaching his chest and braided in the manner of a Viking from ages long past. He still wore the kilt, his favored dress when he and Violet were in the country. It gave him the look of a savage highlander, and once upon a time, would have been to the detriment of his standing within society. That had changed, almost as much as Violet herself had changed.
“The Viscount Melbourne will be here at two o’clock. There should be plenty of time for us to wash and change,” Violet said.
Alexander squinted at the sun, visible in glimpses between the trees. “Aye, maybe another hour. I am not overly concerned. He said he wanted to see us at Lorchester to get the authentic Fitzgrants. It is the authenticity he values, not fancy claithes or perfume. He’s a down-to-earth man.”
“Then I propose we greet him as you once did me,” Violet said with a smile. “Barefoot and with both of us still smelling like leaves and bark.”
Alexander laughed. “Do not joke, lassie. I will dae it. He wants me to serve in his cabinet aifter all. Not the other way around. Though good God in Greenock, I cannae think way. I was nothing but trouble for Gray when I served in his government.”
“Because he knows there is no-one with more knowledge about the needs of working men in this country than you. He needs good men in his cabinet if he is to beat Wellesley at the next election. And if he listens to your advice on electoral reform, perhaps win the votes of those working men.”
Alexander shook his head. “Such words are not for the woods, lass. I have told you this before. No politics in the woods. The trees do not wish to hear it, and this little one doesnae either.”
He put his hand on her swollen belly. She smiled, leaning against him as they walked, enjoying his strong but infinitely gentle hands upon her. It made her feel safe. More importantly, it made her feel that her child was safe.
“I forgot,” she admitted. “I have such pride in you that sometimes I forget myself. Or the rules we made for ourselves.”
“Aye, it’s easily done in the presence of such a man,” Alexander said with a deadpan expression but a broad wink.
Violet laughed, slapping at his arm playfully. “You are not my father. Arrogance does not become you,” she said.
“I am not and thank God. I couldnae bear to live with myself if I were such a man as he proved to be,” Alexander said, enfolding her hand in his own. “Have you heard any mair from him?”
“Not since that groveling letter of apology. It seems that he has found God, become a pastor somewhere in East Anglia and sold most of his lands to help the poor. If you can believe that,” Violet said.
“No, but then I’m a barbaric heathen from the wilds of Scotland. Did you reply?”
“Not yet. Uncle George had urged me to do so. He thinks Ambrose may well have had a Paul on the road to Damascus moment.”
She noted the blank look on Alexander’s face and knew it to be simple truth. “You really are a heathen,” she laughed. “No matter, heathen. It is a biblical reference. It means that Ambrose might be genuine.”
Alexander shrugged. “Then write to him and if he will come, invite him here.”
Violet looked up at her husband, smiling. Alexander meant what he said. There was no artifice to him, no hidden meaning. He thought in straight lines. If Ambrose was genuine about his being reborn then Alexander would accept him. If he turned out to be false, then he would never be trusted or forgiven. But Alexander would give him a fair chance. That was one reason that she loved him. He was as chivalrous and just as a knight of the Round Table, despite his humble upbringing. There was more honor in him than in the rest of the English gentry put together.
That honor had been formed in the forges of terrible hardship and suffering. It had made him into a hard man, but one who held justice and honesty as his highest values. Their child would grow up with the same values, knowing the love of two parents, and raised to see him or herself as a servant to the people for whom they were responsible. Alexander had taken on a new crusade since their marriage, using his newfound political status to continue making life better for the ordinary working people of England, Scotland, and Wales.
Now a new Prime Minister was courting him, wanting a respected member of the previous government to endorse his own premiership. For Violet, the first of her finishing schools had opened just before she had discovered she was pregnant. It welcomed girls of any background, to help them advance themselves. Be they humble or noble, they would go forth, she hoped, and promote the cause of women in British society. It was a lofty, even revolutionary aim, but one into which she had poured her heart. The years in which she had spent making herself an expert on advancement within the English elite were now being put to good use.
One day the daughter of a cobbler will stand before the King, head held high and as at home in the Royal Court as she is in her father’s shop in Sheffield or Nottingham. One day, a woman will stand before the dispatch box in the House of Commons, as Prime Minister. Some girl born to a shopkeeper but shown her potential at a Courtham school.
The first school had been built in east London. The second would be built outside of London. The third…anywhere and everywhere. She threaded her arm through Alexander’s and concentrated on the warmth of his body and the feel of the cool grass between her toes. The baby kicked and she smiled, imagining the world into which he or she would one day open their eyes. She and their father would strive to make it a better place for them. For all the children.
