Page 87 of The Dreaming Beauty
A knock sounded at the door, interrupting them.
Iris groaned. “What is with this town? Why does everyone feel the need to meet at night?”
“Shall I?” Marcus motioned for the others to sit.
He made his way to the door and pulled it open. With all the surprises they had had lately, he’d never seen this one coming.
The dowager duchess raised an expectant brow. “I saw the light, young man, so I know the house is up. You might as well invite me in.”
He cleared his throat and stepped aside for her to pass, then followed her to the drawing room. “Her Grace, the elusive dowager duchess of Westmorland,” he said by way of announcement. It was a bit much, but he was newly engaged, and anything over-the-top felt fitting. All the women stood, their eyes wide. “This is Lady Tansy, Mrs. Wood, Mrs. Palmer, and Miss White.”
“Sit down,” Her Grace said. “I will not be long.”
“We are not selling Rose Cottage, if that is why you have come,” Iris said without preamble.
“I presumed as much when I did not hear back from you. It is I who will be leaving. I heard the duke is to be married, so I am vacating the house for Lady Melbourne and moving in with my sister in Devon.”
“Who told you about the wedding?” Marcus asked. “The engagement is but five minutes old.”
She looked at him. “I am good friends with Mrs. Kirk, your housekeeper, my previous housekeeper. This afternoon she relayed the news I was to expect by the morrow. Might I offer congratulations to the new duke and his soon-to-be duchess?”
“Thank you,” he said, and Tansy murmured her own thanks from her seat.
“The real reason for my journey here is that I could not wait another moment before I brought you this.” From under her cloak she pulled out a journal and handed it directly to Tansy. “It was your mother’s.”
Tansy stared at the smooth leather binding. “My mother’s?”
“I have kept it for her for years. You see, I knew what my husband had done to your father—what I perceived he did to your mother too. He was a selfish, wicked man, and I took long walks every evening to avoid him. One evening I walked to Rose Cottage, and I saw what the townspeople saw—Rosie’s ghost.
“Only, on closer examination, I learned she was not a ghost. She was a living, breathing person. A mother, even. She’d come to see her home one last time. She knew she was ill and would not live long, and she wanted you, Lady Tansy, to see Rose Cottage, where she had met your father.”
“But I have never been here before this summer.”
“You were young and likely do not remember. The story is in the journal. I promised her I would keep it until your twentieth birthday so you might have a year until you reach your majority to decide whether you want to pursue your inheritance or a different life you have chosen for yourself. I have kept my promise. Now the journal is yours, and my time in Westmorland is over.”
“I believed it was all a dream, but I really was here? I can hardly fathom it.” Tansy clutched the journal to her chest. “Thank you for bringing this to me. But how did you come to have it?”
“I think it was your mother’s way of proving she held no ill will toward me. As soon as she learned of my name and my story, she forgave me for not betraying my husband. She knew he would have killed me before any harm came to himself. I do not expect you to forgive my silence. Even so, I hope someday you will.” She glanced about the room before turning her gaze to Aster, then to Iris. “This place has never sat well with me. I am surprised to find you all like it so much. I did try to do you all a favor, but I can see that, against all odds, your family is happy here. I hope the feeling continues.”
“The good memories we’ve made here outweigh the difficult ones.” Iris smiled and set her hand over Aster’s.
Aster had grown tearful during the dowager’s words and nodded her agreement to Iris’s explanation. “Thank you for waiting for our return all these years, Your Grace. This is a gift our niece will treasure.”
“Rosie knew what she was doing when she asked me to keep it. It gave my years purpose.” The dowager, who had kept to herself all these years, very nearly smiled. There was relief in her eyes, and perhaps peace, if Marcus guessed correctly. The dowager drew herself up, her posture as regal as that of any lady he had ever seen. “I shall take my leave of you now. Good night, and...” She paused, her smile growing a little more before adding, “Goodbye.”
Marcus saw the dowager out and added his gratitude for her visit.
When he entered the drawing room again, Tansy had the journal open to the final page. She began to read aloud:
“I am sick, darling. The doctors told me not to travel, as there is nothing that can be done for me. I told my sisters I was visiting Bath to take the waters, but I came here instead so you might see where your dear, sweet father and I met.
Your young life has been steeped with unhappy circumstances, but there was a time when sadness did not rule everything. For me, it was at Rose Cottage. I keep begging you not to forget this short visit, but I am afraid with the grief of my future passing, this weekend will fade from your memory forever. I have decided to leave this journal with Her Grace for safekeeping. She needed a reason to keep living, and hiding this journal for you to have someday was the only reason I could give her.
She promised me that after your twentieth birthday, she would find you and return the journal to your possession. By then it will be time for you to know of your birthright. What you do with that knowledge is yours to decide, but I pray you will be kept safe. My support will follow you no matter the path you take. So happy birthday, dearest. I send all my love from heaven to your heart today and always.”
Tears traced their way down Tansy’s cheeks. “A whole book just of my mother. I knew something like this had to exist, but I searched the house and found nothing.” She looked up and met Marcus’s eyes. “It’s like she came to celebrate our special day with us.”
He smiled. “I would wager your father’s spirit is here too, and perhaps my parents as well.”
