Saving Percival (The Cousins Book 3)

Epilogue

1820

Bath, England

When his wife came down to join him for breakfast, Percival said, "You have several letters this morning. One of them is from Mrs. Sweet, if I recognized the hand correctly."

"Excellent," exclaimed Christianna, Lady Ormund, as she sat next to him. "It's been close to two weeks since she wrote to us. I was beginning to think she had forgotten about me."

Percival picked up his cup of coffee and sipped it. He watched as his wife picked up her small stack of letters. Even after a year and a half of marriage, he still couldn't believe that she was his wife. Every day brought some new delight having her with him.

They had chosen a townhouse in Bath as their temporary residence. Even though he had doubts about living in the city, the rent was more reasonable than another location they had looked into. The location also ensured that Christianna had all the company she could wish for. He also liked the fact that his mother and aunt loathed this place, meaning the demands and requests they made of him were contained to easily dismissed letters.

Christianna's eyes lit up as she plucked one of the envelopes off the pile. "Oh, your cousin has written," she said. "I do hope she and her husband have accepted our invitation to visit."

"You'll find out once you open the letter," Percival informed her.

"I know that. Don't tease me," she responded with a playful look of displeasure. "Don't you have your own letters to read?"

He picked up Mr. Gillham's letter, though he'd already read it, simply to appease his wife. Percival had expected the vicar to come visit this year, but understood that a busy life kept him away. Even so, it was pleasant to hear news from Penshaw, something often absent from the letters his wife received.

Glancing up, Percival watched Christianna read her letter. His fingers twitched and he longed for a pencil. Since they had arrived in Bath, at his wife's suggestion, he'd begun taking up art lessons. His favorite muse? His wife, but she had recently started complaining about the numerous sketches of her around the house. Now, he longed to catch the slight frown on her face, the thoughtful expression. While his instructor said he had talent, he knew it would be some time before he could accurately capture his wife's face.

"Oh, no!" Christianna exclaimed. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears that threatened to spill over. "Aunt Steit passed away a week ago."

"Oh, Christianna," Percival said, reaching out to clasp her hand. "I'm so sorry."

He'd never met the woman, even after marrying her great-niece. Christianna had kept up a somewhat steady correspondence, but the elderly woman had not been consistent in her responses.

"Her heart gave out and she passed in her sleep," Christianna said, putting down the letter to brush her eyes. "I suppose I should be glad it was peaceful. Mrs. Sweet found her. Poor Porter. And Fanny! What will become of them now?"

"Mr. Gillham will help when he's aware of the situation." It was peculiar that the vicar hadn't mentioned death in his letter. Or had Miss Steit specifically requested to keep her last wishes hidden, just as she had done with her life? "Your aunt must have mentioned them in her will."

Christianna offered a weak smile. "It's true. Her two faithful servants were left with five thousand pounds each. Papa must be enraged—Aunt Steit only gave him five dollhouses and one thousand pounds."

Percival chuckled, though he knew it was an awful situation to laugh about. "At least he can't argue that she forgot him entirely."

"Mrs. Sweet says Aunt Steit's solicitor will be contacting me about my inheritance."

Alarmed, Percival froze. He'd always insisted that if his wife were to receive any inheritance, it would be what she deserved. He still hadn't forgotten how that belief had landed him in trouble. Was there going to be more trouble now?

"Aunt Eliza left me her replica dollhouse of Blossom Place, all the contents, and the portrait of Charles Lawrence."

Objects of sentimental value. Perhaps that was for the best. Percival squeezed his wife's hand. "No one would understand their value as well as you do," he told Christianna.

His heart ached to see the pain in her eyes. Though he wasn't sure he understood it, he knew how fond she had been of the old eccentric woman. "Did she spend the rest of her fortune?" he asked. "Just to torment her relatives?"

"She would have, I think, if it had occurred to her sooner," Christianna responded with a slight laugh. "Mrs. Sweet doesn't say one way or the other. I suppose I will find out when the solicitor contacts me."

She pulled her hand away from him and gently placed it on the top of her stomach. "I wish she could have had the chance to tell us if she liked that we decided to name our daughter after her."

"She would have called it a futile effort to curry favor with her."

Christianna laughed. "You're just saying that because you want to name him John after Mr. Gillham."

"Christopher John," Percival corrected. He didn't want her to forget that he wanted to name their son after her more so than his friend. "You even admitted that you cannot think of a male version of Eliza. And you don't know it will be a girl."

With a huff, Christianna shook her head. "We could name him after her father."

"Or we could think of a name all his own," Percival suggested. He raised his hands at her glare. "Or her. Then, our child won't feel as though they have to live up to the person who came before them."

"Oh, fine," his wife sighed. "I hate when you are logical"

Despite her protests, she moved closer to Percival who responded by meeting her halfway for a kiss.

~*~

Author's Note: Though this is a work of fiction, the character of Aunt Eliza Steit was loosely based on a real life person: Madame Hugette Clark (1906-2011). Heiress to a massive fortune, she was painfully shy from childhood to adulthood, taking great pains to avoid society and people in general. As an artist, she built dollhouses to exacting standards and studied painting. It is said that her father told her no one would love her for herself, only her wealth. Oddly enough, even with her shy nature, she was a woman who knew what she wanted and ensured she had it. For many years, she had a loyal staff, however, she did not like interviewing when members slowly left her service due to age and illness. In her eighties, she distrusted strangers and nearly died because she refused to find a new doctor when her trusted physician died. At that time, she lived alone in a 15000 square foot apartment in New York. She then spent twenty years in a hospital where she felt safe and cared for. Tragically, in her later years, many around her took advantage of her generous nature, including the medical professionals caring for her. At her death, the descendants of her half-siblings, many of whom had never met her, battled to overturn her will to inherit the 300 million dollar fortune she had left. This is, of course, a very brief summation of this intriguing woman's life. To learn more about her, I highly recommend the book Empty Mansions by Bill Dedman.

She did not, as I invented for my story, have a tragic attack. Though she did lose her beloved older sister when she was fourteen. She was also married for a brief two years before seeking a divorce. She then counted her former husband as one of her dearest friends until his death, frequently sending him and his second wife money as gifts.

Real life really is stranger than fiction sometimes.