by M C Beaton
Epilogue
Sir Anthony Blake sat hunched up in a corner of his carriage, his face averted from his wife. The second honeymoon in Italy had been one long disillusionment, starting off on the first night when he found his wife in the act of drugging his wine with laudenum. Now that he was out of the reach and sight of Fanny Bentley, Philadelphia had quickly dropped her seductive manner and returned to her usual chilly, contemptuous behavior.
Sir Anthony wondered how he could ever have believed himself in love with her. His conscience, his belief in the sanctity of his marriage vows, had forced him to try to forget Fanny. Now he bitterly regretted sending her that letter. What she must have thought of him!
He had learned of the scandal of Maria Bentley's death but not of Fanny's engagement and assumed she had fled to the North with Frederica. He decided that as soon as he could find her address, he would join her. Meanwhile, they were bound for Westerby, to pay a call at the vicarage on Philadelphia's parents. Mr. Syms was the vicar.
The Syms' parlor maid bobbed a curtsy and said that both master and mistress were at a wedding in the church.
"Oh, let's go!" said Philadelphia, clapping her hands. She loved weddings. She would sit throughout the ceremony avidly watching the bride's face and making all sorts of nasty little remarks which were hardly music to her husband's ears such as, "Well, she'll soon find out what it's all about and that'll take that silly, simpering look from her face."
Sir Anthony only nodded. He was so depressed, he did not care what he did so long as this duty call on Philadelphia's parents should soon be over, leaving him free to ride to Eppington Chase and find out if Betty knew Fanny's address.
The day was gray and warm with a fine drizzle falling. They descended from the carriage and walked under the dripping shadow of the yews to the entrance of the church.
It was a few moments before their eyes became accustomed to the gloom. Sir Anthony realized thankfully that the ceremony was over and the bride and groom were busy signing the register in the vestry. He noticed many familiar faces in the congregation, Hester's in particular. Then there was a shuffling of feet, the organ began to play, and everybody stood to attention.
He heard a sharp hissed intake of breath from Philadelphia, followed by a mocking trill of laughter.
Fanny Beauly, as she now was, was walking toward him on the arm of her husband.
She was smiling and radiant and flushed. Then the newly wedded couple came alongside of Sir Anthony.
Fanny stopped dead in her tracks. Shock followed by grief followed by hurt loss were mirrored for a second in her eyes before she dropped them and, holding her husband's arm tightly, was led from the church.
Sir Anthony continued to stand, staring blindly in front of him. Familiar faces surfaced briefly before his eyes like the dead rising from the sea, Betty blue-eyed and anxious, Hester curious and amused, and finally Mr. Syms, worried and concerned.
"I'm all right," gasped Sir Anthony when he finally became aware that Mr. Syms was talking to him. "Had a bit of a heart attack."
The wedding party followed the country custom by walking to Eppington Chase.
"It was a mistake to invite Mr. Russell," teased the Duke, smiling down at Betty. "It has not helped him in the slightest. It appears that the ghost of the Earl of Hudleigh has come to the wedding with him." For Mr. Russell had talked and grumbled to a non-existent person throughout the ceremony.
"Poor man," said Betty, and then, "Only look! The sun is breaking through."
A shaft of sunlight was gilding the white pillars of Eppington Chase. "At least my Betty will no longer be haunted by her home," said the Duke happily. "Hester will not live here either, she says. The Wester-by's obsession with that wretched place is finished."
"Is it not magnificent?" piped the shrill voice of Simon, second Marquess of Wester-by, who was walking behind them with his friends, Lucy and James.
"I love my home and I feel it loves me," went on Simon blithely. "They are taking me away, but I will return one day and live here forever and ever. There are some alterations I should like to make. . . ."
The Duke stopped and looked down at Betty, and Betty looked uneasily back at him. Then, as if brushing off cobwebs, they continued their walk up the long drive to where the house lay silent in the sun, waiting for the Westerbys to come home.
