To Love a Dashing Tycoon – Extended Epilogue

Southend-on-Sea, England, Autumn, 1814

Imogen sat looking out to sea. It was a bright and sunny autumn day, still with that late summer warmth that can linger into early autumn. There was a saltiness in the air, and she had been sitting in the same position for much of the afternoon, a volume of poetry in hand, gazing out at the waves, which crashed upon the beach below.

Her peace was suddenly disturbed by the sound of a child crying behind her, and she turned to see Gemma and her nanny pushing a perambulator, from which emanated the screams of the infant. Imogen rose from her place, hurrying to meet Gemma, who smiled at her and beckoned her to see the children.

“Horace is the one who always screams first, then Cedric takes up the cry. It is as regular as clockwork,” she said as the nanny lifted the screaming baby, his brother now following suit.

“You certainly have your hands full,” Imogen replied, and Gemma smiled.

“But I would not have it any other way. I assure you. They are my delight,” she said, leaning down into the pram and tickling Cedric upon his stomach, causing him to gurgle and roll onto his side.

“They are certainly growing bigger by the day. It was only two days ago that I saw them, and they already seem bigger,” Imogen exclaimed.

“Would you like to hold Horace? You are his godmother, after all,” Gemma said, nodding to the nanny, who passed the baby gently into Imogen’s arms.

“What a beautiful boy you are,” Imogen cooed, and Horace ceased his screams for a moment, looking up at her and making a smacking noise with his lips.

“They are such a delight. Horace is more like his father, and Cedric takes after me, at least that is how I see it,” Gemma said as she lifted Cedric into her arms, and the two women continued to walk along the promenade.

Work upon the resort had continued apace, and the theatre’s foundations had been laid. The cottages had been built, and Robert had taken one for himself, so that he and Imogen might have a seaside retreat to escape to when the noise and bustle of London became too much.

“Do you think you shall always live here? Will you raise the children here?” Imogen asked.

“I love it here, the air is so fresh, and we have everything we need. Soon, there will be more families here as the cottages are sold, and I can think of nowhere better to raise the twins,” Gemma replied.

“And Marcus? Does he want to stay? I understand from William that the pair also want to build a resort in Cheltenham. The waters there are supposed to be excellent,” Imogen said.

Gemma replied, “They always have some new idea between them. And what of Robert? Will he still be involved? Marcus never speaks to me of business, though I have little interest in it. No, we shall stay here. I will put my foot down.” 

They walked a while longer along the promenade, the waves breaking upon the rocks below and other people strolling past, exchanging greetings and pleasantries.

“My mother arrives today and is staying with us for the week. Apparently, she wants to take the air. I never thought I would see the day when she and Robert would be the best of friends. Really, they are as thick as thieves, the pair of them,” Imogen said as they came to the end of the promenade, from where the sand dunes stretched out to the beach head beyond.

“Your mother is a changed person, by all accounts, and quite taken by Robert. Marcus says it is a miracle,” Gemma replied as they turned and began to walk back.

“I am … oh,” Imogen gasped and clutched her stomach as a sharp pain ran through her.

“Goodness me, Imogen, are you all right?” Gemma cried as the nanny hurried to take Horace from her arms.

“I … I do not know, it is a terrible pain. Oh, goodness me,” and Imogen sat back on the promenade bench, struggling to catch her breath.

In a few moments, a small crowd had gathered, and Gemma had dispatched one of the gentlemen to bring Robert and Marcus at once.

“We must call Tristan up from London; he will know what to do. I am sure it is nothing, oh, goodness me,” Gemma cried, wringing her hands as Horace began to scream.

A short while later, Robert came running, followed closely by Marcus, the two men helping Imogen to her feet. A sedan chair had been brought, and they gently lifted Imogen into the seat so that two footmen could carry her back to the cottage.

“Are you in a great deal of pain, my darling?” Robert asked, clutching Imogen’s hand as he walked alongside the sedan chair.

“It comes and goes; at times, it is more intense, and I feel terribly nauseous,” she declared.

It was a most unusual sensation she had never felt before, and it quite disturbed her. All manner of terrible thoughts ran through her mind, for she had heard tell of such ailments and knew them to be deadly.

“I shall visit you tomorrow,” Gemma said when they came to the cottage gate.

“I am sure all will be well, Robert,” Marcus said, and Robert nodded.

“I will send for Tristan at once; if the ride is swift, then he will be here by the evening,” he replied, as the footmen helped Imogen inside.

They laid her upon a chaise longue in the sitting room at the front of the house, looking out over the garden. The cottages were small, far from the grandeur of Embleton Manor, but they were snug and homely, tastefully furnished and with all manner of conveniences. 

“Oh, ma’am, whatever is the matter?” Jenny cried, emerging from upstairs, where she had been busy seeing to Imogen’s wardrobe.

“I suddenly came over terribly faint and with an awful pain in my side,” Imogen replied, as Jenny now rushed to bring her water and smelling salts.

“It will be all right; Tristan will know what to do,” Robert assured her, though the expression on his face was worried.

***

Later that afternoon, Imogen’s mother arrived, her carriage drawing up just as Imogen had finished taking a little soup for luncheon.

“Oh, my mother will fuss when she sees me like this,” Imogen said, knowing the reaction that would now come.

“And so she should, you are not well, Imogen, and until we know the cause, then we must have concern,” Robert replied as Jenny hurried to open the door.

“Ah, Jenny, my dear, has the Marquess of Hambleton yet made his intentions clear to you?” Imogen heard her mother ask as she was admitted to the cottage.

“He is a most gracious gentleman, Lady Embleton. Why, only this week he sent me two dozen red roses,” Jenny replied as Lady Embleton entered the sitting room.

“Oh!” she exclaimed at the sight of Imogen lying pale upon the chaise longue.

“Mother, it is nothing,” Imogen replied, though she struggled now to sit up, still feeling terribly weak from her earlier pain.

“It is not nothing; evidently, it is not. You are white as a sheet. What has happened to her, Robert? I presume you have sent for a doctor?” Imogen’s mother said, fussing around her and plumping her cushions.

“I sent at once for Tristan, yes. He will be here by the evening, I am sure. Imogen took a turn while out walking with the Duchess of Thurlstone this afternoon,” Robert replied.

“Oh, my dear, we must see you well,” Imogen’s mother said, and she sat down in a chair next to the chaise longue and reached out to take Imogen’s hand.

“Really, Mother, I am fine. I am sure it is merely a turn, nothing to worry about,” Imogen said, but in her heart, she was worried.

“Let Tristan be the judge of that,” her mother replied, and the rest of the day was spent under her direction, with orders given and tasks assigned so that the sitting room soon resembled a medical tent at Waterloo.

“More chamomile tea, ma’am?” Jenny asked when Lady Embleton had gone upstairs to powder herself.

“Jenny, if I am forced to drink another drop of chamomile tea or endure another cold compress on my brow, I shall scream. I am really feeling much better now,” Imogen said, and she sat up as Robert entered the room.

“You must take care, Imogen. Please. Lie back, will you? Rest a little more,” he said, and Imogen gave him a withering look.

“I have rested all day. I would like a little supper, I think,” she declared just as a loud knocking came on the door.

“Ah, that will be Tristan and not a moment too soon,” Robert cried, hurrying to answer.

Tristan was accompanied by Emily, and with the return of Lady Embleton, the room now seemed rather full.

“I will make some tea for you all,” Jenny said as Tristan hurried to Imogen’s side.

“We came as quickly as we could. Tell me, what exactly did you experience earlier today?” Tristan asked, opening his medical bag and pulling out various instruments.

“She fainted,” Lady Embleton declared, and Tristan raised his eyebrows.

“Imogen?” he asked, for Tristan knew as well as the others just what Lady Embleton could be like.

“I did not faint, but I felt a terrible pain just here, a sort of cramp, I suppose, and I felt weak, ever so weak, as though all the vigour had gone from me,” Imogen said.

Emily took hold of her hand, smiling reassuringly at her.

“Do not worry, Tristan will see to you,” she said, and Tristan nodded.

“With your permission, I should like to examine you,” he said, and Imogen nodded.

The others turned away, and Tristan placed his hand gently upon Imogen’s side, easing it over her stomach while holding her wrist to take her pulse.

“I feel somewhat better now, though I am fearful of knowing what is wrong,” Imogen said as Tristan placed his hand upon her stomach and pressed down with slight force.

Imogen winced as a sharp cramp ran through her again, and Tristan now looked up and smiled.

“It is clear what is wrong with you,” he said, standing up and rolling down his shirt sleeves.

The others now turned, and Lady Embleton looked at Tristan imploringly.

“Well, do not leave us in suspense, Tristan. Tell us what is wrong with her and more importantly what can be done about it,” she said, and he laughed.

“There is nothing wrong with her, Lady Embleton. Imogen is with child.” 

At these words, they all let out a gasp.

***

When the initial shock at Tristan’s words had abated, Robert threw his arms around Imogen, kissing her on the cheeks as the others offered their congratulations. Imogen herself was astounded, for she had never suspected that the cause of her discomfort might be the most natural thing in all the world.

“I should have thought it myself,” Emily said, for she was close to giving birth, and now she hugged Imogen as Jenny returned with the tea.

“And you will need to take care yourself, Robert,” Tristan said, raising his eyebrows.

Robert looked confused until the doctor pointed at his shoulder.

“Oh yes,” Emily cried, “you cannot lift a baby with an injured shoulder.”

“It is quite better now, Tristan. Your ointment has worked wonders for me,” Robert declared, smiling down at Imogen.

“It seems you are to have your work cut out, Jenny,” Lady Embleton said as the delighted maid returned with the tea and was informed of the happy news.

“Gemma will be thrilled,” Imogen said as she sat up and beamed around at them.

“We are all thrilled. How exciting for you both,” Lady Embleton said, and calls were made for a celebration.

“I am so relieved it is good news,” Robert said when at last they were alone later that evening.

“I should have thought it myself, for I have heard enough discussion of children in these past months to know all the signs,” Imogen replied.

“I have never thought of myself as a father, but then I never truly thought of myself as a husband, either. Not in the manner that I now find myself. How fortunate we are in all things, Imogen,” he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her.

“We must think of a name and where we are to raise the child,” Imogen said, but Robert shook his head.

“These things will come in time. For now, surely it is enough to simply enjoy this moment,” he said, and Imogen was quite willing to agree.

***

In the fullness of time, Imogen gave birth to a daughter, whom they named Elizabeth Rowena Grace. She was a beautiful baby, possessed of the prettiest looks and doted upon by all who met her. She was born in the spring and baptized at Easter, surrounded by their friends and family. Jenny acted as a godparent, along with Tristan and Emily, too. It was a happy day, and Imogen felt as though their family was complete.

“I must hold her again,” Imogen’s mother said as they emerged from the church.

“You are very welcome to, Mother,” Imogen said, handing Elizabeth to her as the child began to wriggle and cry.

“Oh, I have never seen anything so beautiful in all my life. She is quite the most perfect child in all the world,” Lady Embleton said, rocking Elizabeth in her arms as Imogen and Robert walked arm in arm through the churchyard.

Their friends were waiting at the lychgate, and their numbers had swelled somewhat, for now Emily had given birth to her son—Marlowe George—and Gemma and Marcus were expecting again. Jenny was on Nathaniel’s arm, the two of them having now begun an official courtship, much to the delight of the others.

“A magnificent day. Congratulations to you both,” Tristan said, stepping forward and taking Robert by the hand.

“I am only glad that she did not cry. I remember Horace and Cedric almost deafened the poor rector on their christening day,” Imogen said, smiling at Gemma as Horace began to cry.

“They were merely delighting in receiving the sacrament. I am sure that Cedric is destined to enter the church,” Gemma replied, and Imogen laughed.

William and Katherine now approached them, and Imogen smiled as Katherine came to embrace her.

“I am glad you are all gathered here,” William said, and the others fell silent.

“Do you have some news for us?” Marcus asked, and William nodded.

“Well, we did not wish to be entirely left out of the proceedings and so … well, we too are expecting,” he said, kissing Katherine.

“Oh, William, that is wonderful news,” Imogen cried, and she threw her arms around her brother as much congratulation and well-wishing was exchanged.

“When is the baby due?” Emily asked, cradling Marlowe in her arms.

“Well, we only had the good news confirmed by Tristan a few days ago. We wanted to surprise you all, and Tristan has been the model of discretion,” William said.

“As I am in all things,” Tristan replied, bowing his head.

“But by the early spring,” Katherine said, smiling and placing her hands upon her stomach.

“Well, I think this all calls for a celebration. Shall we retire to Embleton Manor?” William said, but at these words, Nathaniel cleared his throat.

“Perhaps Redfield’s? I would be happy to host you all. For we, too, have something to share,” he said, and Imogen looked to Jenny in surprise.

“What is this?” she asked, and Jenny blushed.

She slipped her hand from her pocket, revealing a most beautiful ring on her finger. Imogen gasped, and the others looked at one another astounded.

“You old dog,” Marcus exclaimed, slapping Nathaniel on the back.

“The one who always maintained he would never marry. You won the wager, but you have lost the war, my friend,” Tristan said, and Nathaniel blushed.

“Well, it was Robert who spoke the truth. He told me that I would be unable to resist when the time came, and well … since meeting Jenny, I have come to realize that life is far better enjoyed in the company of another. She has shown me that; you have all shown me that, and now I am only glad that we shall all know that same happiness together,” he said.

“Then this truly does call for a celebration,” William declared, “and I am sure we shall be happy to take up your invitation. Carriages to Redfield’s, I think, if my mother will ever return her grandchild to its rightful owners.”

Elizabeth was returned to Imogen’s arms and carriages summoned so that the party might retire to Redfield’s and celebrate the happy news of expectation and engagement. Imogen was delighted for Jenny, congratulating her again before climbing into a carriage with Robert.

“What a truly wonderful thing,” she declared, settling herself back and cradling Elizabeth in her arms.

“I must say, I never imagined Nathaniel to be the marrying type. He always denied the possibility so vehemently,” Robert replied, laughing.

“I think we have all been surprised of late, for life can turn out very differently than ever we imagined,” Imogen replied.

That had certainly been the case for her; the dread of marriage to a man she could never love now transformed into the happiness she possessed in Robert and Elizabeth.

“And there is still so much of it to come,” Robert said, leaning over to kiss her.

“And I am only glad that I can share it with you,” she said, resting her head upon his shoulder, which had healed completely, as had their two hearts. 

THE END