by Hale Deborah
Grace’s legs threatened to give way beneath her. She stumbled to the nursery settee and sank down on it. Sophie’s storybook lay within arm’s reach, full of impossible tales of talking cats, fairy godmothers and scullery maids who captured the hearts of princes. Those stories also told of something Grace had encouraged the children to believe in—cruel, uncaring stepmothers.
“There is more to marriage than love.” She sighed. “You said so yourself, and you were right about that at least.”
Her collapse upon the settee brought Rupert flying to her side. Grace was reminded of their very first interview at the inn in Reading and the unwarranted kindness he’d shown to a fearful, dowdy governess. Looking back she wondered if she had begun to fall in love with him that very day.
“Have we exchanged outlooks, you and I?” His gaze searched her face in a fond caress as he eased himself down beside her. “Tell me, then, if there is more to marriage than love, what else can possibly compare in importance?”
“The happiness of your children, of course.” Grace lowered her gaze, afraid she would falter and give in to her selfish desires if she stared into his compelling dark eyes for too long. “You know how bitterly opposed they are to your remarrying. And I have done more than anyone to foster that uncharitable attitude. This is my just punishment. Much as I want to, I cannot marry you and risk having the children I love so much grow to resent me.”
Perhaps she should not have confessed her desire to accept Rupert’s proposal for it seemed to encourage him in a way she could ill afford.
Gently he took both her hands in his, as they had clasped during the dance that evening. “Dearest Grace, you know my daughters care for you quite as much as you do for them. Whether you are their governess or their mama, I cannot believe that will change.”
Perhaps he could not, but she could all too easily. She shook her head and tried to pull her hands from his grasp. “You did not hear what they said when I told them what happened at the masquerade. Sophie was aghast at the thought that I might become their stepmother. They will never accept me—I am certain of it. And there will be gossip in the neighborhood about such an unsuitable match, which will only make things worse.”
Her fears were running away with her, whipped up by the potent consciousness of all the wrong she had done since coming to Nethercross. She could not bear to do more simply to get what she wanted.
“Hush now, hush,” Rupert clung to her hands with tender but steadfast resolve. “I will talk to the girls and persuade them they have nothing to fear. All will be well, I promise you.”
How could she resist her feelings for such a man, whose presence promised her security, protection, understanding—everything she craved? But how could she give in to them when the result might be the kind of strife that had blighted her family? She cared too much for Rupert and his daughters to let that happen.
“Don’t you see? They may pretend to be resigned to a marriage between us for fear of losing your regard. If they cannot truly accept me, it could poison your feelings for them and theirs for you. That is too great a risk. I cannot take it. Please do not ask me to!”
Hard as she tried to maintain her composure, hot tears rose in her eyes.
“So much fear.” Rupert’s whisper enfolded her with its fond sympathy. “After all you have suffered over the years I reckon it is no wonder you always expect the worst. I have no right to talk, for I was every bit as fearful of giving my heart away again at the risk of losing it forever. But even if I were to lose you, I could never be sorry to have loved you. You brought me to life again and gave me back my heart. Having you here at Nethercross has been a blessing for which I shall always be grateful.”
He disengaged one of his hands from hers and wiped away a tear that slid down her cheek. Much as his words touched her and his gesture brought comfort, Rupert’s reference to a blessing reminded her why they could not be together. “You and your daughters have been a blessing to me as well but one I do not deserve. I kept secrets from you and spoiled your plans. Even worse, I made the girls a party to my actions. I encouraged them in believing that all stepmothers must be horrid. Now I must reap what I have sown. It is a judgment upon me.”
“Is that why you will not accept my proposal?” he asked. “Because you feel you do not deserve to be happy?”
Blinking back the rest of her tears she gave a slow nod.
“We all make mistakes,” Rupert replied. “I hired you for the wrong reasons. I refused to acknowledge my feelings for you and planned to marry a woman I did not love in spite of my daughters’ objections. Does that mean I should never know happiness?”
“Of course not! It isn’t the same thing at all.”
“Are you certain?” Rupert nodded toward his peacefully sleeping children. “You cannot deny the girls have their faults, yet you care for them just the same and would do everything in your power to make them happy.”
“You know I would.” That’s what she was trying to do, if only he would not let her.
“Even Charlotte who made things so difficult when you first came here?” he persisted.
“She didn’t mean to,” Grace protested. “She didn’t understand in the beginning and once she did she was so remorseful.”
“And you forgave her, just like that?” Rupert sounded skeptical. “Even though she might not have deserved it?”
“I…” At last Grace understood what he was trying to say. “That is…”
“Then why do you find it so hard to believe God would forgive you as you forgave Charlotte?” Rupert took her left hand and lifted it to his lips. “Please trust your heart to my love and to the Lord’s grace.”
Could it truly be as simple as that? Simple, perhaps, but not easy.
From dark closets of Grace’s memory the voices of her stepmother and her teachers emerged to recite a long litany of her faults that justified their hostility and harsh treatment. The men who had pursued her joined in, claiming she had invited their dishonorable attentions.
But then the voices of Rebecca and her other friends rose in protest, saying she was worthy of their support and affection. Charlotte, Phoebe and Sophie joined in her defense. So did their father.
Grace lifted her eyes to meet his. “Perhaps…”
That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. Every shadow of the frustration and sorrow she’d glimpsed in him of late vanished. More than any words it assured her that the feelings he professed were entirely sincere and that her love could help him find the happiness she so wanted for him.
“We will talk to the girls in the morning.” Rupert lifted her hand to his lips. “If after that you still believe our marriage would destroy the affection they now have for you, I suppose we could carry on as we have been and wait to wed until they are grown and married. It would not be easy for me but for their sake and yours, I could wait.”
His offer soothed the worst of her fears. Gingerly, she raised a hand to stroke his cheek. Rupert leaned into that delicate caress with a murmur of supreme contentment.
Now that she was certain of his feelings and hers, it would not be easy to wait so long. She must trust in the girls’ understanding, in Rupert’s love and most of all in the power of grace.
* * *
Rupert rose early the next morning, propelled by a volatile mixture of eagerness and anxiety. He could not blame Grace for her difficulty in accepting good fortune when he could scarcely believe his.
For the sake of his daughters he had resigned himself to pining in secret for their beautiful governess. But when she had seen through his disguised feelings and offered to help unite him with the woman she thought he loved, he could not tell whether that meant she cared nothing for him…or everything. He only knew he must be as truthful with her as he’d urged her to be with him. His reward had been to discover ho
w much she cared for him and his daughters.
Thinking of the girls provoked his unease. Last night, seeking to persuade Grace, he had been certain his beloved daughters would be no stumbling block to his happiness. In the cool light of an autumn morning he was not so sure.
Another worry also nagged at him. Would he find Grace in the nursery this morning, or might she have fled during the night as she had from difficult situations in the past?
Unable to bear the uncertainty he hastened to the nursery where he paced back and forth in the corridor until he heard the sound of voices, assuring him the girls were awake.
“Is something wrong, Papa?” cried Phoebe when he strode in with his mounting worry etched upon his features.
The moment he caught sight of Grace, pale and anxious-looking but very much present, his lips relaxed in a broad smile of relief. “No, indeed, my dear. Everything is as right as can be. I hope you all slept well.”
They nodded.
“We just woke up,” announced Sophie, though it was evident from the fact that they still wore their nightgowns.
“What are you doing here so early,” asked Charlotte in a wary tone, “if nothing is wrong?”
He beckoned them over to the settee, which held sweet memories of last night’s conversation with Grace. “There is something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Can’t it wait until after breakfast?” asked Phoebe.
Gathering Sophie onto his lap while the older two snuggled on either side, Rupert shook his head. “This is very important and the sooner it is settled the better for us all.”
“Come sit with us, Miss Ella,” Sophie called out to Grace.
Rupert added a smile of encouragement to his daughter’s invitation but Grace hung back. “I will join you a little later perhaps.”
She busied herself around the room. Did she think the girls would be less apt to give a sincere response with her sitting there? All the more reason to get the matter sorted as soon as possible.
“Now girls,” he began, “you know I loved your dear mama very much, as I know you did.”
They all replied with grave nods, including Sophie, whom he doubted had any clear memory of Annabelle.
“After she died, we were all sad for a long while and I was afraid to love anyone but you three in case I might lose them as I lost her. That was why I wanted to marry Mrs. Cadmore because I knew I would never care for her that deeply. But you and Miss Ellerby helped me see that was wrong and rather cowardly.”
“You’re not a coward, Papa!” Phoebe’s voice rang with indignation.
He gave a rueful grin. “When it comes to risking my heart I fear I have been. Now I am trying to be more courageous but I need your help.”
“You haven’t changed your mind about Mrs. Cadmore, have you?” demanded Charlotte.
Before Rupert could respond Sophie piped up, “I hope not because we don’t want a wicked stepmother!”
He cast a glance at Grace who had turned away, her shoulders slumped.
“I have not changed my mind about Mrs. Cadmore but I have altered my opinion of marriage. I hope you also will keep your minds and hearts open to change. Not all stepmothers are alike any more than the three of you are. Some may not be as kind as they should but others are good and loving. I hope you will not let the loss of your mama make you close your hearts to new love as I tried to. It has been a hard lesson for me to learn but I believe you are wiser than me.”
His daughters seemed to wrestle with what he was trying to tell them. He only wished he’d had this talk with them a long time ago.
“I don’t understand, Papa,” said Phoebe at last. “If you aren’t going to marry Mrs. Cadmore, what does any of that matter?”
“Because,” said Charlotte, “I think he wants to marry…Miss Ella.”
“Is that true?” Sophie cast her father an accusing glare. “Do you want to turn Miss Ella into a wicked stepmother?”
Rupert shook his head. “I want to make her a stepmother who will love you almost as much as your own mama. But she is afraid to marry me if it might make you unhappy and not care for her anymore. What do you think of that?”
“Is that true, Miss Ella?” asked Phoebe.
Grace turned toward them again and nodded.
Rupert held his breath as he waited for his daughter’s reply.
Charlotte rose from her place beside him.
“That’s just ridiculous,” she announced in a tart tone, walking toward Grace. “Miss Ella could never be wicked and no one could make her that way, especially not Papa.”
She took Grace’s hand and drew her toward the settee.
“Of course not,” Phoebe agreed. “Will you please marry Papa, Miss Ella?”
Wiping away a tear, Grace sank onto the settee with the rest of the family. “What do you say, Sophie?”
The child thought for a moment.
“This isn’t a story, you know.” She spoke with innocent wisdom. “We can make the ending come out any way we please.”
With that she slid off Rupert’s lap onto Grace’s.
“I know how I would like our story to come out.” Grace wrapped her arms around the child and rested her head against Rupert’s shoulder in a gesture of reliance and tender trust.
“How?” asked Phoebe as Rupert opened his arms wide enough to embrace all four of his ladies.
Grace’s smile seemed to light up the whole nursery. “…and they all lived happily ever after—in Berkshire.”
Epilogue
One month later
As she glanced in the looking glass on the morning of her wedding, Grace forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply to maintain her composure. Every time she contemplated the approaching ceremony that would make her a wife and mother, she feared she would burst into tears of gratitude and joy.
The woman who looked back at her from the glass was as different as could be from the one who had come to Nethercross the previous winter. Instead of an unflattering starched cap, a circlet of ivy and myrtle studded with white roses from the conservatory at Winter Hill set off her golden curls to perfection. Her unflattering dress of sickly green had been replaced by a simple but elegant white gown and a spencer of coral pink velvet. Her eyes were no longer obscured by spectacles but shone with happiness.
Grace beheld her reflection with a warm glow of contentment. Though she wanted to look nice for Rupert and the girls, she trusted they would love her every bit as much if she were still plain and dowdy.
In the distance she heard church bells toll the half hour, followed by a knock on her door.
“Are you ready, Miss Ella?” Charlotte called in an anxious tone. “Lord and Lady Benedict are here to take us to the church.”
“I am quite ready.” Grace opened the door and savored the child’s gasp of admiration. “Are you and your sisters? We do not want to keep your papa waiting.”
“We’ve been ready for ages, at Charlotte’s insistence,” said Phoebe, who stood nearby holding Sophie’s hand. “I hope that she won’t go back to bossing us so much just because you aren’t in the nursery to keep her in line.”
“Now, now.” Grace’s nerves calmed as she fell back in to her familiar role with the children. “Let’s not spoil such a happy day with quarreling. You all look lovely. We will make a splendid wedding party, don’t you think?”
Before they went downstairs to meet the Benedicts, she gathered each of the girls into her arms for a kiss. “One of the sweetest blessings this day will bring me is three such delightful daughters.”
“Stepdaughters,” Sophie reminded her.
“Call it what you will.” Grace gave the child’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I shall love you just as much.”
When they desc
ended the stairs a few moments later, Rebecca blinked back tears as she caught sight of Grace. “I always knew you would make the most beautiful bride.”
The two friends embraced.
“I am so happy you could come to my wedding,” said Grace. “I only wish Marian and the others could have been here, too.”
Rebecca nodded. “Marian wished she could come but with her confinement drawing near, Captain Radcliffe would not hear of her risking a long carriage journey. But he said you and your family must come to Knightley Park for a visit once the baby is born. Their two girls are anxious to meet yours. As for Hannah, she has her hands full. I shall tell you her news on our way.”
They all bundled into Lord Benedict’s fine carriage and drove to the church. Rebecca kept up a constant flow of news about their friends, no doubt hoping to divert the bride from any wedding jitters.
But Grace found herself surprisingly calm.
Once they reached the church, Sophie, Phoebe and Charlotte marched down the aisle ahead of her while Grace followed on the arm of Lord Benedict. As they approached the altar, Rupert turned for a first glimpse of his governess bride. His eyes widened and he appeared to catch his breath at the sight of her. His lips spread into a wide, doting smile that made Grace’s heart bound.
“Dearly beloved,” began the vicar and the marriage ceremony proceeded according to its age-old form.
When it came time to recite their vows, Grace and Rupert stared into each other’s eyes and spoke as if there was no one else present. Though she knew her bridegroom had made those same sacred promises to his first wife, Grace did not feel it diminished his commitment to her in any way. Indeed, knowing what a devoted husband he had been to Annabelle, she believed with all her heart that he would show her the same love, fidelity and kindness.