Another worry also nagged at him. Would he find Grace in the nursery this morning, or might she have fled during the night as she had from difficult situations in the past?
Unable to bear the uncertainty he hastened to the nursery where he paced back and forth in the corridor until he heard the sound of voices, assuring him the girls were awake.
“Is something wrong, Papa?” cried Phoebe when he strode in with his mounting worry etched upon his features.
The moment he caught sight of Grace, pale and anxious-looking but very much present, his lips relaxed in a broad smile of relief. “No, indeed, my dear. Everything is as right as can be. I hope you all slept well.”
They nodded.
“We just woke up,” announced Sophie, though it was evident from the fact that they still wore their nightgowns.
“What are you doing here so early, Papa,” Charlotte asked in a wary tone, “if nothing is wrong?”
He beckoned them over to the settee, which held sweet memories of last night’s conversation with Grace. “There is something I want to talk to you about.”
“Can’t it wait until after breakfast?” asked Phoebe.
Gathering Sophie onto his lap while the older two snuggled on either side, Rupert shook his head. “This is very important and the sooner it is settled the better for us all.”
“Come sit with us, Miss Ella,” Sophie called out to Grace.
Rupert added a smile of encouragement to his daughter’s invitation but Grace hung back. “I will join you a little later perhaps.”
She busied herself around the room. Did she think the girls would be less apt to give a sincere response with her sitting there? All the more reason to get the matter sorted as soon as possible.
“Now girls,” he began, “you know I loved your dear mama very much, as I know you did.”
They all replied with grave nods, including Sophie, whom he doubted had any clear memory of Annabelle.
“After she died, we were all sad for a long while and I was afraid to love anyone but you three in case I might lose them as I lost her. That was why I wanted to marry Mrs. Cadmore because I knew I would never care for her that deeply. But you and Miss Ellerby helped me see that was wrong and rather cowardly.”
“You’re not a coward, Papa!” Phoebe’s voice rang with indignation.
He gave a rueful grin. “When it comes to risking my heart I fear I have been. Now I am trying to be more courageous but I need your help.”
“You haven’t changed your mind about Mrs. Cadmore, have you?” demanded Charlotte. Before Rupert could respond Sophie piped up. “I hope not because we don’t want a wicked stepmother!”
He cast a glance at Grace who had turned away, her shoulders slumped.
“I have not changed my mind about Mrs. Cadmore but I have altered my opinion of marriage. I hope you will keep your minds and hearts open to change as well. Not all stepmothers are alike any more than the three of you are. Some may not be as kind as they should but others are good and loving. I hope you will not let the loss of your mama make you close your hearts to new love as I tried to. It has been a hard lesson for me to learn but I believe you are wiser than me.”
His daughters seemed to wrestle with what he was trying to tell them. He only wished he’d had this talk with them a long time ago.
“I don’t understand, Papa,” said Phoebe at last. “If you aren’t going to marry Mrs. Cadmore, what does any of that matter?”
“Because,” said Charlotte, “I think he wants to marry... Miss Ella.”
“Is that true, Papa?” Sophie cast her father an accusing glare. “Do you want to turn Miss Ella into a wicked stepmother?”
Rupert shook his head. “I want to make her a stepmother who will love you quite as much as your own mama. But she is afraid to marry me if it might make you unhappy and not care for her any more. What do you think of that?”
“Is that true, Miss Ella?” asked Phoebe.
Grace turned toward them again and nodded.
Rupert held his breath as he waited for his daughter’s reply.
Charlotte rose from her place beside him.
“That’s just ridiculous,” she announced in a tart tone, walking toward Grace. “Miss Ella could never be wicked and no one could make her that way, especially not Papa.”
She took Grace’s hand and drew her toward the settee.
“Of course not.” Phoebe agreed. “Will you please marry Papa, Miss Ella?”
Wiping away a tear, Grace sank onto the settee with the rest of the family. “What do you say, Sophie?”
The child thought for a moment.
“This isn’t a story, you know.” She spoke with innocent wisdom. “We can make the ending come out any way we please.”
With that she slid off Rupert’s lap onto Grace’s.
“I know how I would like our story to come out.” Grace wrapped her arms around the child and rested her head against Rupert’s shoulder in a gesture of reliance and tender trust.
“How?” Phoebe asked as Rupert opened his arms wide enough to embrace all four of them.
Grace’s smile seemed to light up the whole nursery. “...and they all lived happily ever after—in Berkshire.”
Epilogue
One month later
AS SHE GLANCED in the looking glass on the morning of her wedding, Grace forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply to maintain her composure. Every time she contemplated the approaching ceremony that would make her a wife and mother, she feared she would burst into tears of joy.
The woman who looked back at her from the glass was as different as could be from the one who had come to Nethercross the previous winter. Instead of an unflattering starched cap, a circlet of ivy and myrtle studded with white roses from the conservatory at Winterhill set off her golden curls to perfection. Her unflattering dress of sickly green had been replaced by a simple but elegant white gown and a spencer of coral pink velvet. Her eyes were no longer obscured by spectacles but shone with happiness.
Grace beheld her reflection with a warm glow of contentment. Though she wanted to look nice for Rupert and the girls, she trusted they would love her every bit as much if she were still plain and dowdy.
In the distance she heard church bells toll the half hour, followed by a knock on her door.
“Are you ready, Miss Ella?” Charlotte called in an anxious tone. “Lord and Lady Benedict are here to take us to the church.”
“I am quite ready.” Grace opened the door and savored the child’s gasp of admiration. “Are you and your sisters? We do not want to keep your papa waiting.”
“We’ve been ready for ages, at Charlotte’s insistence,” said Phoebe, who stood nearby holding Sophie’s hand. “I hope she won’t go back to bossing us so much just because you aren’t in the nursery to keep her in line.”
“Now, now.” Grace’s nerves calmed as she fell back in to her familiar role with the children. “Let’s not spoil such a happy day with quarreling. You all look lovely. We will make a splendid bridal party, don’t you think?”
Before they went downstairs to meet the Benedicts, she gathered each of the girls into her arms for a kiss. “One of the sweetest blessings this day will bring me is three such delightful daughters.”