Tom and Elizabeth were remarkable travelers.
They had learned to pack up an entire household in but a few days’ time.
Tom, with his organization, and Elizabeth with her passion had found ways to maneuver three small children from London to Scotland with aplomb.
They spent the winter months in London where it could be very dreary and muddy, but not nearly as dark or as cold as the Highlands. And once spring came, they abandoned the ton… for they were not people who were interested in the ton.
Instead, they went North where the heather bloomed, the sky sang, and the bens beckoned.
Their small estate was perfect for children. Those six months of the year when spring first came in, all the way to that bitter first frost of Autumn were the happiest of months.
Their children were joyful and practical, like rowdy goats, because they knew the joys of crystal pure waters and the reality of the hardness of a London life.
They had eschewed a great house in West London and had taken up residence in the city in the winter.
Many people had made great comments about this.
The gossips of course had made meat of the fact that they were not interested in living in the gilded houses along Green Park or Hyde Park.
London would always be a roiling mass of humanity. There would always be pain and suffering there, but together they had done good work.
Elizabeth had added another element to the work that Tom did, making certain to care for the elderly.
The children of the East End were so important, but so often many of the people who grew to a certain age were left behind, suffering in untold ways.
And Tom, who now had a seat in the House of Lords, did work for change as much as he could in the hallowed halls of power.
Though, often people did not wish to listen to him given his background, but would listen to the Dukes of Blackwood and Clyde. And when those two dukes took his side? People had to listen, even when they did not wish to.
And as they wandered out of their beautiful house into the Highlands, with a picnic basket of food, Tom carrying the youngest on his shoulders, they made their way up to the glen.
Happily, singing and chanting rhymes, they climbed up to one of the hidden glens, and they stopped by one of the rivers that soared down to the sea.
Soon Blackwood would come for fishing.
Autumn would soon be upon them.
But now? The world was full of so many opportunities for them. So much love, so much peace.
Elizabeth gazed up at Tom as they laid out the wool blanket, set out the food, and sat down together.
Tom placed his youngest son on the woven wool.
The older children jumped about and splashed in the freezing cold water. None of them seemed to mind the cold much. They were hardy stock.
She laughed at the sight of it. None of them were afraid of getting their clothes wet or muddy. None of them were afraid of the crumbs that would come from the picnic and none of them were afraid to embrace and hug and speak their mind.
And just as that thought went through her, her eldest son named after the Duke of Blackwood threw himself into her arms, smiled up at her, and said, “I love you, Mama.”
Her heart swelled. She beamed down at him, her eyes wide as tears of joy teased her lids. “I love you too, my darling boy,” she proclaimed.
And she felt so much love.
She had made mistakes as a mother over the last years, not knowing what to do sometimes… not knowing what to say when her children bickered and fought.
She had not always made the right decisions with Tom, but none of that mattered.
All that mattered was that they were growing together, that they tried their very best, that they showed each other through actions how they felt.
And… Oh… How they loved each other.
More than any of them could ever truly say.