by Anna Willman
“Of course he did,” Guinevere said.
“Well, yes,” Mrs. Westlake said with a wry smile. “He was very kind to me and I have never forgotten that.” Her smile broadened. “Our dear philanthropist!”
Louisa giggled and Guinevere chuckled.
After a moment, Mrs. Westlake continued. “A few months after our connection ended, my husband was killed in the battle of Yorktown. It was a great relief to me, for by the time I heard the news I had already gone into seclusion in the country where, some months later, a baby girl was born to me – little Suzanna. My husband had been gone for more than a year, and, had he survived, he would have been very angry. I kept my darling little daughter by me until she reached the age of six months. Then I put her in the care of a farmer’s wife.”
“That must have been difficult,” Guinevere said, thinking of her own children at that age.
“Yes, it was,” Mrs. Westlake said simply. “She’s grown now, a real beauty, and married to a good man who has a small property in Kent. They have two children and a third on the way. She knows I am her mother, and I go to visit her as often as I may.”
“And then you met Colonel Westlake,” Louisa said.
“Yes. He was a Brigade-Major then. He was a fine man and a good husband. And Elizabeth’s father.”
“Our children are safe, then,” Louisa said, tears of relief glistening in her eyes.
“Yes,” Mrs. Westlake said, “Safe and happy.”
The two mamas-in-law linked arms then and returned to join the company of women who were beginning to depart, one carriage after another. Guinevere went to take her leave of Lancelot, and after a short search, found him in the library standing, deep in thought, by the fireplace. She went to stand beside him and saw his packet of letters curling in the flames. They watched the letters burn in silence for a few minutes before either spoke.
“This was all your doing, I suppose,” he said gruffly.
“Oddly enough, it was not. I have had a hand in it, of course, but the ladies were quite enthusiastic about coming to see you and repaying you for all the kindnesses you have given them over the years.”
“The thing is, Guinevere, that I am not a fit husband for that young woman.”
“No, nor for any lady! Nevertheless you shall marry her. You have pledged your word and Miss Manning will hold you to it. If you don’t put an announcement in the paper this week, I have no doubt she will put one in the following week.”
An appreciative gleam lit his eye. “Yes, I expect she would.”
He limped to the window and looked out at the departing carriages. “I’d truly given up on my scheme, you know. I was going to move into the Dower House. Jarman said it would be preferable to a hovel.”
“A hovel? Oh. Yes. The Dower House would be better. Well now you won’t have to do that. You can stay here with Miss Manning once she is Lady Carew.”
“The thing is, Gwen, that I’m not sure I’m up to it.”
She stared at him. “What do you mean?”
Lancelot blushed. “It’s just that I don’t…I can’t seem to…” His voice dwindled off. Then he said more firmly, “Never you mind. It doesn’t matter.”
Guinevere smiled. “I think I understand. You are telling me that you find yourself incapable.” She let out a nervous little cough.
He reddened a little and looked away from her. “I’m an old man, Guinevere.”
“You are,” Guinevere said.
She hesitated and then said quietly, “I don’t think Miss Manning will mind very much, you know. She is not marrying you for the…physical aspect of matrimony. And she is a spinster rather than a widow, which means she has no previous experience with which she might compare you.”
“You can’t know that for a certainty. She has a look about her. There are hidden depths there. She is still a young woman, and I sense a passionate nature,” Lancelot said. His expression was glum.
Thinking of the intensity of Miss Manning’s devotion to Louisa, Guinevere considered the possibility that Lancelot was right.
She made an effort to encourage him. “You are an accomplished lover, Lancelot. You will find a way to please her.”
‘You don’t understand,” Lancelot said.
“You would be surprised at what I understand,” Guinevere said. She stepped up close to him and whispered in his ear.
Lancelot’s eyes opened wide as he listened. Once he stopped her and whispered a question in her ear. She nodded and blushed. Then she said, “And if that doesn’t work, you might try a completely different approach.” And whispered in his ear once more.
When she stepped back, both of their faces were quite red, and for a moment they found it difficult to meet each other’s eyes.
“Charles must be very inventive,” he said at last.
“Charles and I are very inventive,” Guinevere replied with a broad grin. “If you will give up being so impossibly selfish, it is astounding what you might accomplish.”
Lancelot smiled down at the woman who was, still and always, the one true love of his life. “You should have waited for me, Guinevere. If you had married me, I would have become a different man altogether.”
She shook her head. “It is better this way, my dear. If we had married, we would surely be enemies by now, and I had rather be your friend.”
Lancelot took her hand and pressed his lips lightly on her knuckles. “When did you become so wise?” he asked. Then, releasing her, he added, “It seems that my education is just beginning.”
Guinevere smiled and turned to leave. “And if you take your studies seriously, my friend, I think it very likely that Miss Manning will prove to be just the woman to undertake your tutelage.”