Three Years Later…
The news of the Pembrokes' final, tragic chapter had reached Delia and Eric not with a bang, but with a quiet, somber letter nearly two years ago.
Anne, left in the hands of the Pembrokes had faced complications during childbirth. Neither she nor the child, a little girl, had survived.
The debts incurred for the dical care and the subsequent funerals were the final, insurmountable burden. The weight of it all—the added debt and the final, utter ruin of the family's na—had been too much for Mrs. Pembroke's heart to bear. She had passed away from a heart attack just a few weeks after Anne's funeral. Their house and Evelin were taken to clear the debt and George was left alone in the streets to start life all over again, to find a way to pay the debt to get Evelin back .
~ ••••• ~
The air in the grand townhouse in Edinburgh was bright, clean, and filled with the cheerful chaos of a happy family.
Sunlight, a rare and precious commodity in the Albion capital, stread through the tall drawing-room windows, illuminating a scene of loving disarray.
"Elian, no, not in your mouth!" Delia laughed, gently prying a shiny silver button from the curious fingers of her two-year-old son. Elian, who had his father's calm, observant eyes, looked up at her and gave her a gummy, unrepentant grin.
"Serena has my ribbon again, Mother," ca a long-suffering sigh from the other side of the room. Owen, now a handso young man of fifteen, was trying to coax a strip of blue silk from the surprisingly strong grip of his little sister. Serena, who had her mother's vibrant spirit and a mischievous sparkle in her eye, giggled and held the ribbon tighter, a tiny, triumphant queen on her velvet throne—a small footstool.
This was the scene as Eric walked into the room, freshly dressed in a smart, dark coat for the occasion. He stopped in the doorway, a look of a raw adoration on his face. This beautiful, noisy, perfect chaos was his life now.
"Are we ready for our portrait?" he asked, his voice full of a warm amusent.
Delia, looking radiant in a gown of erald green silk that brought out the fire in her hair, looked up at him and smiled. "We are attempting to be," she said. She finally retrieved the button from Elian and handed him a wooden block instead.
"Owen, my dear, could you please try to convince your sister that Mr. Abernathy the photographer does not require a blue ribbon for this portrait?"
Owen, with the patience of a loving older brother, knelt in front of Serena. "Serena," he said gently, "if you give the ribbon, I will let you hold my new book of maps."
Serena's eyes widened. The book of maps was Owen's most prized possession. She considered this for a mont, then, with the gravity of a queen signing a treaty, she held out the wrinkled ribbon. The trade was made, and peace was, for the mont, restored.
Eric walked over to Delia, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. The blue hue of her eyes and the red pop of color on her cheek and nose were too much for him to behold.
"You look beautiful," he murmured, his hands finding her waist.
"And you look so handso and very much like a Duke who is about to be completely ignored by his children in favor of a cara," she teased, leaning in to give him a soft kiss.
The photographer, Mr. Abernathy, finally cleared his throat. "If Your Graces are ready?"
They spent the next half-hour in a flurry of activity. It was like trying to herd happy, well-dressed kittens. Elian was fascinated by the photographer's tripod. Serena decided the best place to be was underneath the large velvet cloth covering the cara. Owen, with his maturity, tried to keep his younger siblings in line, while Eric and Delia tried, and mostly failed, to get everyone to look in the sa direction at the sa ti.
"Elian, my boy, look here," Eric coaxed, holding up a small, shiny pocket watch.
"Serena, darling, co sit with Mama," Delia called, her voice full of laughter.
Finally, they managed a mont of perfect harmony. Eric stood tall and proud behind a large armchair. Delia sat gracefully in the chair, her expression serene, her hand resting on her now gently swelling belly with their third child. On her lap sat Serena, clutching her new favorite book. Owen stood protectively by the arm of the chair, his hand on his sister's shoulder. And Eric held Elian, who was now more interested in pulling his father's cravat than in the cara.
"Hold still, everyone," Mr. Abernathy said, his head disappearing under the cloth.
In that quiet mont, as the family stilled, Delia looked at her husband over the heads of their children. His eyes t hers, and in that shared gaze was a love that had literally conquered death. She rembered her desperate, silent prayer at the orphanage all those years ago.
"Let him live so that he would love as much as he wants, and let him be loved as much as he wants."
Her prayer had been answered.
There was a bright flash of magnesium powder, a soft pop, and the mont was captured forever. A snapshot of a living, breathing, profoundly happy family.
Later that evening, after the children were all tucked into their beds, Delia found Eric on the balcony off their bedroom. The cool night was quiet, the sky a dark velvet blanket pricked with a thousand stars. She ca up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his strong back.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked softly.
He turned in her arms and held her close, his chin resting on the top of her head. "About our family," he said, his voice a low murmur. "About what the future holds for us."
Delia looked looked up at his gaze. " Then did you get an answer?" She asked, her voice full of a quiet wonder.
"Yes," Eric replied. He tilted her chin up and kissed her, a slow, deep kiss full of the comfortable, all-encompassing love that had beco the foundation of their world.
"As long as you are with ," he said against her lips. "Our future will be beautiful. I love you."
"I love you, too," she replied, her heart so full she felt it might burst.
He scooped her into his arms. "Eric!" Delia gasped as she wrapped her arms around her neck. " Yes, my Duchess." Eric replied as he gently laid her on the bed. Delia kissed him. " To us." Eric returned the kiss. " To us."
Reviews
All reviews (0)