Page 56 of One Last Whisper

A moment later, a light illuminates me. Inspector Hargreaves calls out, “My God. Mary? Theresa, what is the meaning of this?”

Theres’s eyes flit between me and the two men. A look of rage crosses her face. Then she chuckles. “Well, shite. Looks like it’s come to an end. I knew this would happen eventually. I tried to be careful, but you know how it is. The Devil comes to collect one day.” She looks at me. “God, I really hate that it’s you, though. You’re just some prissy busybody governess. I hoped it would be someone less annoying. Oh well.”

She turns around and sprints for the platform over the ocean. Inspector Hargreaves cries out and rushes after her. “Theresa! Don’t do it!”

Theresa doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t even slow down. Lightning illuminates the edge of the platform, and the lastimage I see of Theresa Pemberton is her choosing to go out on her own terms rather than face justice for her actions.

EPILOGUE

“Do you think I’ll be able to ride a bicycle one day?”

Dr. Thornton smiles at Oliver. “You could ride a motorcycle if you wanted to.”

“Let’s start with a bicycle,” Lord Edmund interjects, “and see where things go.”

Oliver’s surgery is a success. They were able to repair the damage to his right lung. His left was too underdeveloped to ever be of use, so they cut it out and left him with the good lung. Oliver will have to work harder than most children to strengthen his body, but he will be able to lead a normal life with the proper care and exercise.

Lord Edmund is, of course, released immediately upon Inspector Hargreaves report that the true murderer has been found. After Theresa’s suicide, he inspects her room and finds more evidence. When I ask what he found, he won’t tell me. He only says that Theresa was the sort who kept trophies. Perhaps it’s better that I don’t know.

So now, Lord Edmund, Sean and I are in Oliver’s hospital room with Dr. Thornton. Already, he looks so much stronger. The color is back in his cheeks, and he doesn't have that horrible cough anymore.

“When your dad comes around about the motorcycle, let me know,” Sean says. “I’ve got an old Triumph Bonneville I’ve been meaning to restore. I’ll let you have a ride on it.”

I look him squarely in the eye. “You never told me you had a motorcycle.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He winks at Oliver, and the boy giggles.

Lord Edmund clears his throat and says, “In point of fact, Mr. O’Connell, Oliver is my nephew, not my son.”

“That’s all right,” Oliver says. “You’re pretty much my dad. I never knew my real dad, and you’ve taken good care of me. Besides, I love you.”

Lord Edmund’s lip trembles, and his eyes are moist. His voice is shockingly tender when he says, “I love you too, Oliver.”

He embraces his nephew—his son, rather—and I have to turn away so they don’t see me crying. Sean puts his arms around me, holding carefully to keep from irritating my bruises. I close my eyes and breathe deeply of his strong, manly scent. God, I really do love him.

When Oliver and Lord Edmund separate, Oliver asks. “Is Aunt Cordelia here? I want to ask her if she’ll be my mum as well.”

The room dims slightly when he says that. Lady Cordelia is still comatose. She’s showing signs of brain activity, but it’ll be some time before they know how much recovery she can expect. Dr. Thornton warned us not to be optimistic.

“She’s resting right now,” Lord Edmund replies. “She had a bad fall. The doctors are taking care of her, but… she’s resting.”

“Oh.” Oliver’s brow furrows in concern. “She’ll be all right, though, won’t she?”

Lord Edmund’s lip trembles, but he quickly controls himself and smiles at Oliver. “Yes. I believe she will.”

I hope fervently that his Lordship is right. This family has suffered altogether too much. They're done for some good luck. Annie might be right, and that might not be how life ordinarily works, but we must hope for the best anyway, mustn't we? Otherwise, we have no choice but to give in to despair. And we can't do that. Not ever. Not even when the odds are stacked impossibly against us.

“Will you be staying, Miss Mary?” Oliver asks.

I look at Sean. He nods, and I reply, “We’ll be staying for a while. I’ll continue to teach you until the castle is sold.”

“Where will you go after that?”

I cross to his bedside and take his hand. “Then I have to go home,” I tell him gently. “I have some things I need to take care of that I’ve been neglecting to take care of.”

“Will you visit me?” he asks hopefully.

“Of course. If your uncle—sorry, your father—allows it.”

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