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“That’s very good. I like being Rose. I didn’t want to say anything, but Flora is a silly name.”
Emmeline’s mouth twitched. “Well, Flora was pretend. You are real.”
“I wish we didn’t have to stop living at Winnover Hall. It’s lovely there.”
For a long moment Emmie considered what Rose had said. Winnover was lovely, and stately, and warm, and familiar. She would miss the green hills and yellow stone and the way the sun sparkled on the pond in the mornings. “I will miss it,” she said, fixing a strand of hair at the girl’s temple. “But missing you would be much harder.”
“Oh, I know,” Rose agreed. “George and I know some good places in London, if we need somewhere to sleep.”
“We still have Pershing House, silly thing,” Emmie answered, “and a very small cottage in York called Arriss House. No need to sleep in any church cellars.”
“Thank goodness for that. I don’t want to ruin any of my dresses.” The girl straightened, looking down at her egg-and-cake-streaked pink gown. “Any more of them. I am worried that we’re ending up in York, though.”
“James won’t be there, will he, do you think?” George asked.
“If he is, he has good reason to stay well away from us,” Will said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “And with the truth out, nothing about which to threaten us.”
As they climbed the stairs to the rooms they’d been given, George stopped on the landing. “There’s something you should know. Even before James, and after he left, Rosie and me’ve been taking things from Winnover Hall we thought we could sell. Because after we finished here, we were going to make a run for it, maybe to live in Gloucester.”
Will nodded. “I did notice a few things going missing. Thank you for telling us.”
“But Powell found us out, and he’s been taking things back. But we knew that, so we found a better hiding place, but we didn’t want to hurt Powell’s feelings, so we kept putting a few things where he could find them.”
“You took extra things so Powell could find and return them?” Will’s jaw twitched, his eyes merry.
“Yes. He didn’t snitch on us when he could have, so we helped him back some.”
“And Hannah kept fixing my hems, even when the silverware was too heavy and pulled them out,” Rose announced. “They can stay with us, can’t they?”
That explained the hems. Clever darling. “We’ll figure something out, my dears,” she said, because some response seemed to be needed. What that thing would be, she had no idea. More than a dozen staff called Winnover home, and several of them had families in the area. Penelope wouldn’t keep most of them on, but for goodness’ sake, they’d all become like family. Good God, they were a family now. All of them, together.
“If we sell Arriss,” Will said, on the tail end of that thought, “we might be able to purchase something close by Winnover. It would make your cousin our neighbor, and it would be… a great deal less than what you’re accustomed to, but it wouldn’t upend the household.”
Emmie grabbed his face and kissed him, right on the stairs. “I love you, William Pershing,” she declared.
“I have waited a very long time for you to say that, Emmeline Pershing,” he said vehemently, and kissed her back. “I love you.”
This would be their lives, then. Upended, pecked at by lost friendships and uncertain alliances, responsible for a possibly reformed pair of thieves and helping them grow into kind, responsible adults, and keeping their partnership tangled, together, and loving. Messy and daft. And perfect.
EPILOGUE
“No, Hannah, leave that,” Emmie said, looking up from setting a pair of candlesticks in a wooden box and covering them with straw before adding another pair. “I think it came from Uncle Harry.”
The lady’s maid put the yellow vase back down on the table. “It is rather hideous, if I may say so.”
“You may.” Emmie chuckled. “At least I have the satisfaction of leaving all the things I never wanted behind here. Let Penelope figure out what to do with them.”
William appeared in the morning room doorway. Hands on either side of the doorframe, he leaned into the room. “Em. Come look at this.”
Leaving the candlesticks behind, she followed him to the library windows that overlooked the garden, part of the pond, and the apple orchard beyond. A large, dirty sackcloth stretched out between them, Rose and George were leaving the orchard. Whatever was in the sackcloth looked to be extremely heavy, and the middle of it bumped along the ground.
“Their ill-gotten goods, I reckon,” Will observed.
“Good heavens. It’s a wonder we have any furniture left in the house.”
He put his arm around her shoulders. “Our darling little miscreants.”
Snorting, she slid her arm around his waist. “Have you heard back from Michael Fenmore?”