“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. And therefore, is winged Cupid painted blind.” – A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Shakespeare 

Five Years Later….

“It is a truth universally acknowledged,” Anne read aloud, “that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” 

Margaret gurgled loudly in her basket, her chubby arms waving in the air. At barely six months old, she already seemed fascinated by stories, and adored being read to aloud. 

Harry, who was three years old and equally fascinated by books, sat in his mother’s lap, squinting down at the page. 

“You know,” Elias remarked, stretched out on the grass a little way off, “I’m not sure that neither of our children, delightful as they are, are yet equipped the grasp the beauty of Miss Austen’s works.”

Anne stuck out her tongue at him. “Perhaps I am the one who wants to read it.”

He lifted his head and grinned at her. 

There were reading nooks aplenty in the Dunmore gardens. Those nooks hadn’t always been there. The previous earl had a love for harsh, spiny roses, pruned to within an inch of their lives. He liked paved footpaths and well-raked gravel, rockeries and confusing, high-walled mazes. 

Anne and Elias’ tastes were a little different. It had taken several years to design the garden the way they wanted, but at long last it was done. There were green, leafy stretches of woodland, pretty little wildernesses, and more wildflowers than one could imagine. 

The roses had been allowed to remain and were still occasionally pruned. 

However, Anne’s favourite spot was not one of the many benches and nooks tucked away in their gardens, but a grassy meadow at the bottom of the lawn. An oak tree spread grandly overhead, and the grass was soft and mossy, covered in waving daisies and buttercups. On a warm spring day like today, the spot was beyond perfect.

Harry crawled out of Anne’s lap, picking up his wooden toy soldiers once again. Elias rolled onto his side, grinning at his oldest child. 

“What game are you playing here, Harry?”

Harry launched into a serious babble of chatter; the same sort of delighted nonsense that can only be understood by a child’s parents. Elias nodded seriously, taking in every detail. 

“And which is the evil prince again? Aha, the soldier with the red hat. I see. Very fitting. Do you see, Anne, the symbolism of the red hat? Our child will be a renowned author one day.”

Anne gave a gurgle of laughter. “Oh, I love to watch him play with his toys. He adores making up stories for them. His imagination is remarkably good, you understand.”

“Oh, I am aware. When I was his age, I used to love making up stories. That is, until…” Elias trailed off, a frown appearing between his brows. Anne reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“You don’t have to think about him,” she murmured. “You never have to think of him again.”

Elias gave her a grateful smile. 

As the years had slipped by, Anne had watched her husband shake off the influence of the cruel old earl. With Roland long since locked again, with Godfrey and his thugs alongside him, Dunmore was a different place, free of poisonous influence. 

“I often wonder, when I look at our babies,” Elias murmured, “how my father could have had it in his heart to treat me the way that he did. I could not imagine hurting Harry in any way. Ever.”

Anne shuffled closer, until he could lay his head in her lap. 

“That is because you are a fine man, and an excellent father,” she murmured quietly. “You will not be like him. You are not like him.”

She stroked his hair back from his forehead, and Elias twisted his head to kiss her wrist. 

It was a rare morning in which they did not have too many chores to get done. Papa lived with them, of course. He had his own rooms on the lower floors of the house, and while his health was not excellent, Anne no longer lived in daily fear of losing her beloved parent. 

“I cannot possibly die now,” Papa had said once, laughing. “I have grandchildren to care for!”

Harry suddenly gave a cry and jumped to his feet, waving a soldier in each hand. 

“Lisbeth!” he squealed. “Lisbeth is here, and Aunt Clara and Uncle Tom! They’re here!”

“Well, why don’t you go and greet them, you little monkey?” Elias laughed, diving forward to tickle his son’s belly. Harry shrieked in delight, dropping to the ground like a stone and rolling from side to side. Elias pounced upon him, tickling and tickling until Anne had to slap him on the shoulder. 

“The poor child will wet himself if you don’t give over!” she snorted. “Let him go and greet them.”

Elias got to his feet, swinging Harry up into his arms and squeezing him tight. Anne sat there for a moment, enjoying the scene. 

I’ll never tire of this, she thought. My children, my husband, my home. We all love each other. Who could ever have imagined that I’d be so happy? 

They did not go to London, although when Harry and Margaret were older, there was talk of giving them a Season. They would wait and see. Anne had no interest in London Society, and nor did Elias. Why would they? All they had was right here. 

She could see Clara now, walking slowly up the drive towards them. Thomas stood beside her, and the two were laughing about something. Their daughter, Elizabeth – the same age as Harry – walked between them, clutching her parents’ hands. 

Thomas no longer served as a steward for Elias. Instead, he and Clara ran the bookshop, and the circulating library that Anne patronised. Privately, Anne liked it better that way, and she was sure that Elias did too. That way, he and Thomas could be friends, true friends, without worrying about employment getting in the way. There was a new steward, of course, and it was none other than Mr. Harrow, Mrs. Harrow’s grandson, and the man who’d helped free Elias from Roland. 

It feels like an age ago, Anne thought, almost wondering. Nobody ever told me that the time slides by so fast. Here I am, with two children. There is my cousin, with a shop and a husband and a daughter of her own. Papa is sitting inside right now, reading his books and finally getting a chance to rest and read as much as he wants. 

I am the luckiest woman in the whole world. 

Elias had finally heaved Harry onto his shoulders and turned to grin back at his Anne. 

“Are you coming, my love?” he called. “We’ll walk down to meet them.”

Anne got to her feet and scooped Margaret out of her basket, holding her tight to her chest. She hurried forward to catch up with Elias, and he held out a hand. She took it, and the two of them walked, hand in hand, to meet their friends. 

The End