“You could remain at Sarvol House, which would make you happy,” she said. “And I could have a friendship with Mr. Walker, which is more than I’ve had for seven years. AndThimbleby would be in good hands, which makes the future we’re hoping for all the more possible. That would make me happy, indeed.”
Scott kissed her cheek, refraining from kissing her fully on account of not wanting to embarrass her. He then looked to Mr. Phelps once more. “It seems you have a new position.” To Mrs. Brownlow, he said, “Once you have time to hire a new butler, of course.”
She nodded. “I will see to that as soon as possible.”
“Take the time you need,” Scott said. “I don’t want this change to be detrimental to you.”
“You have shown yourself to be quite considerate, Mr. Sarvol,” she said. “I find myself inclined to forgive you for lying to me when I was on my deathbed.”
He went wide-eyed.
But Mrs. Brownlow laughed. “The Gillian you described to me was not her. But as I watched you, I could tell, even in the haze of illness, that you were acting out of concern.”
“For both of you,” Scott said. “I assure you, I—we—had the best intentions.”
“I know.” She smiled kindly. “That you cared enough to undertake such a foolhardy plan for her sake and that Gillian trusted you enough to ask it of you, gave me such hope. It gave me reason to recover.”
Gillian pressed a hand to her heart. “I cannot express to you how glad I am that you did. I couldn’t have borne it if I’d lost you.”
“We would have been poorer for your loss,” Mr. Phelps said to Mrs. Brownlow.
Gillian was watching her father. “Houghton Manor will be strange without you there.”
“I’ll stay as long as you wish me to.”
But she shook her head. “Thimbleby needs you. And you won’t be terribly far away.”
“And you can visit,” Mr. Phelps said.
Gillian glanced at the tightly closed door, then at the windows with their drawn curtains. She slipped from Scott’s side to her father’s. And she hugged him.
Emotion evident in the pull of his mouth and the tears in his eyes, Mr. Phelps embraced her in return. “I’m sorry for the last seven years, Gillian. I wish I’d made different choices. Better choices.”
“Things will be better going forward,” she said. “I know they will.”
Scott met the man’s eyes. Mr. Phelps mouthed a thank-you. While Scott was glad the man had been granted this moment of reconciliation, Scott was happiest for Gillian. Her happiness was absolutely paramount. Everything he now wanted. Everything.
Chapter Thirty-five
At the insistence of Mr.and Mrs. Tanner, Scott held something of a soiree at Sarvol House the next afternoon. It would not be a large gathering with a great many people present, but the kindhearted housekeeper and butler wished for him to have a celebration, to the extent that the estate could manage.
Sarah and Harold, Mater and Mrs. Brownlow, and Gillian were all there in the drawing room. Scott had returned the day before to find that his sister and his beloved had, with Harold’s help, transformed the room into a welcome and inviting space.
Mrs. Brownlow was sharing tales from her youth among theton. Mater seemed to be familiar with the stories. The two ladies were not of the same generation, precisely—Mrs. Brownlow was older by likely a decade—but the late Earl of Lampton had been nearly that much older than his wife, so Mater likely knew a lot of what happened before she herself had joined the social whirl.
Gillian, standing beside Scott, leaned closer to him and, in a whisper, said, “I think you should have Sarah, Harold, and Mater visit you like this often over the next year or so while you’re retrenching. No need to provide food or lavish entertainment. Just family gathered in your home.”
“If I do that, then I will have to write a letter to Toss acknowledging his superior wisdom.”
She looked at him, curious.
Through a grin, he explained, “Toss told me I wasn’t looking in the right places for the family I longed for, that it was around me all along but I was not allowing myself to see it.”
“In the time I’ve been here, I’ve been struck again and again by how much your neighbors are more than neighbors.” Gillian’s gaze fell on Sarah and Harold and Mater in turn. “They truly are family to you.”
He slipped his hand along the inside of her arm and wove his fingers through hers. “We’ve both been searching for family for a long time. And here it is.”
“We?” She blushed a little, smiled a little.