by Fanny Finch
The one who had hurt her the most, was Peter. And the one who had shocked her the most, was her step-mother.
Her father had been unable to look her in the eyes since that night. Neither of them had been able to say a word to her.
Despite how long had passed, Eleanor was still having a hard time wrapping her head around it. Save for her mother’s death, and Benjamin’s, Sarah had been the cause of all of her heartache.
The only crime Eleanor had committed, was being her father’s child.
How anyone could have such wickedness in her would forever remain an unfathomable mystery to Eleanor.
Still shaken up by the revelations, she accepted the cup of tea from Rachel gratefully. As she sipped from it, she felt her nerves begin to calm.
It was the afternoon after the court pronouncement and Peter’s sentence, and they were all seated in her drawing room. Everyone who mattered.
“I still cannot believe your stepmother has done all of that to you,” Charles thought out aloud.
“Me neither,” she replied quietly.
“And that Manson… I told you, Eleanor. I never had a good feeling about him. At least, now we know why,” Edwin joined in.
“You too?” Charles said. “He didn’t sit well with me as well. I simply assumed it was good old jealousy.”
That was news to Eleanor. She cocked her brow at Charles. “I never knew you did not like him.”
He mirrored her expression. “Did you ever like Alexandra?”
She smiled at him. “Never.”
He shrugged. “There is your answer.”
She watched him fight off a smile, and she cracked one herself. He ended up losing this fight.
“I’m just glad the whole ordeal is over. Now, we can move on with our lives. What’s most important is that the truth was unveiled,” Rachel said.
Her husband nodded as he took her hand to kiss her knuckles. “And that we still have each other, everyone who matters.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
The Dowager Duchess, all smiles, looked at all the faces in the room. “I am thankful for this. Family is everything. I bless the Lord for bringing us together.”
“Amen,” they all chorused.
As a hush fell in their midst, Charles rose up from his place beside Eleanor and came to kneel in front of her.
Her heart skipped a beat, her stomach squirmed, but she held a tight rein on her emotions. There was no way this could be what she was thinking.
Oh, but it was. For in that moment, Charles brought out a small velvet box and opened it to reveal the most beautiful ring she had ever set her eyes upon. It was a thin silver band with a ruby stone sitting prettily on top of it.
The stone had been cut into eight sharp edges and it effortlessly took Eleanor’s breath away.
“Charles!” she gasped.
His eyes found hers, the smile on his face reflecting in them. “My father had given my mother this ring, for it made her eyes even more beautiful. I am aware that I have my mother’s eyes, and you have the eyes of the sun. However, she wanted you to have it. Only you.”
Those last words told her Elise had received another ring. Her heart melted as she searched for the Dowager Duchess.
When their gazes locked, the Duchess nodded at her. Overwhelmed by the happiness and honor she felt in that moment, tears sprang to her eyes and flowed freely.
She returned her attention to the man she loved, and his beautiful, beautiful ring.
“I thought if I gave it to you, it would be lovely still. That way, whenever I have to go away, you would look at it and be reminded of me.”
There was a pause as he took the ring out of the box and held it with his fingers.
“Eleanor, we both have come a long way. Individually and together. We still have a much longer way to go and I know there is no one else who I would rather go on this journey with.
“Now that we have the past behind us, I reckon this would be a perfect way to begin a new phase filled with joy and laughter and peace, and love. Do you agree?”
She nodded eagerly, unable to stop the tears from flowing. “Yes, I do.”
“So, if I asked you in this moment to be my wife and the mother of the many children I wish us to have, you would say yes?”
How could I not? “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, yes. I will marry you.”
As she said those words, he slid the ring onto the left finger. It was a perfect fit.
Their witnesses clapped and cheered as she and Charles stood up, to hold each other in a tight embrace.
“You have made me the happiest man alive today. Thank you, Eleanor. I love you.”
“And I love you.”
Eleanor held on to him tightly, relishing the feeling of safety and rightness in his arms, the feeling of home. No happiness she had ever felt in her lifetime rivaled that which she felt in that moment.
All her fears seemed strange in that moment for she suddenly knew, with a clarity that was soul-moving, that this man would never hurt her.
This man would remain by her side forever, and they would grow old together.
Just then, the doors opened and Mr. Yates, her butler stepped in. Everyone turned to look at him. He only needed to assess the situation with a glance to know what was happening. His face lit up instantly.
“I do believe congratulations are in order, my lady.”
Eleanor chuckled as her joy was overflowing. “I do believe they are, Mr. Yates. Charles has just asked me to be his wife.”
“You two shall make one another very happy. I am glad for you. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Mr. Yates. Did you come with a message?”
“Ah, indeed. There is a certain man by the door. He has come to see you, my lady.
“He says his name is James Wimbledon. He says he is your father.”
Eleanor’s face drained of every visible hint of joy as she heard those words. Her ears grew deaf from the hush that fell over the room.
James Wimbledon… How ever could she face him?
Well, she supposed she must, and she would. He was her father, and despite all that he had done, if he genuinely asked her forgiveness, she would forgive him.
She loved him still.
Epilogue
James
For the second time in six months, James was giving a child out in marriage. Three months ago, he had stood right there, in front of the congregation as he watched his lovely daughter-in-law walk down the aisle to her husband, his son.
Now, he stood at the back of the congregation, his daughter’s arm in his as they prepared to walk down the aisle together.
He knew he was the least deserving of this privilege, yet here he was. If there was anything he was grateful for, it was that his children had gotten their mother’s heart.
Geraldine. What would she say when she saw the mess he had made of things? How he had turned their children, the children they had made in love, to outcasts in their own home?
Oh, how she must have turned in her grave.
Alas, overtaken by grief and loneliness, he had been blinded to his children’s plight. Blinded by the witch who had wanted nothing but to turn them asunder.
He had let her. Over and over in the seven months since the truth of her wickedness had been revealed, he had questioned himself.
How had he not seen what she was doing? How had he not recognized it for what it was? How had he let it go this far?
Shame had held him away for too long, but he had refused to let it keep him away any longer. So, that day after the court had ruled, he had held his heart in his hands, and he had sought his daughter out.
There had been no words, no explanations, no justification. He could not have insulted them any further in that manner. He had simply buried his pride, and had shed tears as he asked his children for forgiveness, over and over again.
The wrong he had done them was terrible when he had really looked at it. But it was
Eleanor whom he had wronged the most. His little daughter who had been robbed of her mother’s love.
He had done nothing to replace it. He had simply brought a woman who had made things worse. That their hatred for him had not grown over the years was something he would always find shocking.
He had cried, and when they had seen that he was genuine in his remorse, they too had broken into tears. And finally, they had forgiven him.
Then, they had sat in her drawing room as the Wentworths and Duncans left, and they had talked about everything.
Their relationship had not magically become the model image of what a parent-child relationship should be like, but they were working on it, daily.
There were still a lot of awkward moments, and perceivable emotional distance, but they were trying and he was too. It was all he could ask for, and it was enough for him.
As for Sarah, he had forgiven her and because of the love he bore for her, he had put her away, but with enough money to see that she lacked for nothing for the rest of her life.
Nothing tied them together. No children, no truth and on her end, no love. Not really.
Her son would still be viscount after him, for he was a good lad, and Edwin could not manage both territories. That was that.
“Is it strange that I have done this before, yet I feel so anxious?” Eleanor asked.
He looked down at his daughter who had drawn him out of his thoughts. She had chosen a soft yellow gown for her wedding dress. He had never seen her look more beautiful than she did in that moment.
“No, my dear. It is not strange in the least. The ceremony might not be new, but the man is. That alone is sufficient to make you feel this way. You do know we can still call off the wedding if you are not quite certain?”
“No, Father. Of course not. I am certain, very certain. Charles is the man I want to spend my life with. It’s just… it is normal, I suppose?”
He chuckled softly. “Of course, it is. If I knew better, and I do, I would say your anxiety is in fact anticipation. You cannot wait to be wedded.”
She smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made the sun green with envy.
“In truth, I cannot. I cannot believe the day has finally come. And that you are here with me.”
“This is the greatest honor that could ever be done to a man. Thank you for giving it to me, Eleanor. Even when I least deserve it.”
“We are not deserving of God’s love, yet he gives it to us daily. We are commanded to be like Him. And you are my father. When a man is sorry, forgiveness should be meted, not vengeance.”
His heart squeezed. She had grown to be such a lovely person with a big heart and he could claim no credit for it.
“Your mother would be proud, Eleanor. As I am proud.”
The bells chimed then, signifying that the procession was about to begin. He patted her arm softly and she looked up at him.
“Ready?”
She nodded. “Ready.”
Satisfied, he dropped an affectionate kiss to her forehead and cradled her chin. “The Lord bless your home, dear child. The Lord keep you and your household safe, forever and ever.”
“Amen,” she replied.
The doors opened then, and the procession began. First, the flower girl - who was Rachel’s daughter - marched. Then, Frances and Rachel, her matrons of honor, followed. Finally, it was their turn.
As they marched, he kept his eyes on the man who would become his son-in-law. He watched as the man’s eyes never left his daughter. As those eyes swelled with tears. Tears of happiness and love.
Unlike him, Eleanor deserved this, she deserved a man who would love her this way, today and forever. He was glad that she had found him, and that he had found her.
When he finally handed her over to this man, he said four words.
“Thank you. Cherish her.”
The man assured him, firmly. “I will, for as long as there is breath in me.”
That was enough for James. He went back to his seat and watched, pleased, as they exchanged their vows and became man and wife.
Nevertheless, the vow that mattered most to him was that which Charles had sworn so softly, yet so fiercely.
I will, for as long as there is breath in me.
The End.
The Extended Epilogue
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The Redemption of the Puzzling Governess – Preview
Chapter 1
The morning air leaked through the window, and a bird landed on the ledge. It chirped as if it were the most delightful day. The scent of bread being baked a few floors down rose up to meet Delia’s nostrils, and she inhaled.
In all, it should have been a good day. It ought to have been a day she could appreciate for its beauty.
But Delia Caulfield had too much on her mind to bother with birds and bread. Instead, she nervously ran her fingers through her light-brown hair and stared with green eyes at the paper in front of her.
“Dear Mr. Fi—no, that’s not good at all. Too familiar,” she mumbled to herself, seeking a more formal language to address another potential employer.
Frustrated, she leaned back in her chair, ready to give up. This was useless. She had done all she could do. How had it come to this?
The image of her disgrace was potent in her mind. A young woman, thrust from the home where she had been a governess. She had made her way to the train station, carrying her belongings with a sullen disposition.
The humiliation of it all remained strong. There was no one now that she could turn to.
Delia had thought time and time again about contacting her parents. But what would they say? Her father had changed so much that she had no doubt he would refuse her.
When he was a merchant with little wealth to his name, Mr. Caulfield had been a good, generous man. But the greed of his new fortune had overwhelmed him and led him to a selfishness that Delia found unrecognizable.
Indeed, she could not go to her father and mother, she could not depend on them for help. They would merely tell her to leave them and not tell anyone that she had made such a horrible fool of herself.
Delia also considered approaching her sister, Thea. After all, Thea had gone from the daughter of a mere merchant to the Duchess of Sandon overnight. And now, she had a great deal of wealth, as her husband was rebuilding his lost fortune.
But Thea would be so disappointed. She would be sad for Delia and would pity her. That would not be good either.
Once more, Delia was stuck without further options. She would have to remain dependent on herself. And yet, she felt incapable of doing it all on her own.
Getting back to work on her letter, Delia finished it and took it out to have it sent to the potential employer. On her way, she decided to get the day’s paper and have a look for any more possible positions.
“Boy, I’ll take one,” she said, making her way to the young child selling papers.
Delia was heartbroken whenever she saw the pageboys and their youth. That they had to work so hard was unfair. It was not right tha
t they should be so far from the childhood that belonged to them.
“I like your hat, Miss,” the boy said in a friendly way, noticing the accessory on Delia’s head.
She had kept it as a piece to give her some sort of distinguishing characteristic. It made her appear as more than she was. But the hat also carried the memories of her former position. It had been her most expensive purchase while she was making a good wage.