Page 85 of Fair Weather Enemies
“They would do that?”
Barlow laughed. “They would. Especially when they learn that I am the principle investor.”
Jane cocked her head in surprise. “Sir, you would invest in us?”
He frowned with mock umbrage. “You wound me, Miss Hancock. I can think of no finer people in whom to invest.” He glanced at Aunt Hester. “Besides, it seems I have already begun to invest in your family. How can I stop short now?”
“Thank you, Mr. Barlow.”
“Yes,” said Adam. “You are a true friend.”
Mr. Barlow tipped his hat. “Very well. Now if you will excuse us, Hester and I will quit this odious field and return to the carriage where we may begin discussing our future together.”
“I believe I’ll join you,” said Thomas. “It seems I have been given a sudden windfall and am too old to spend it. I’d like your advice on investing in, say, a copper mining venture.”
Jane watched as the three of them strolled across the sodden field. Adam recaptured her attention when he collected her cheek in his hand.
“We should begin discussing our future as well.”
She nodded, the warmth of his hand invading her cheek. “Very well. What should we talk about?”
“This.”
He drew her into his arms again and mounted an all-out invasion of her lips. Rather than resisting, she abandoned the battlements, lowered the drawbridge, and surrendered. After all, the second rule of effective feuding was that all conflicts must end before the sides are mutually destroyed. She was more than happy to ensure the thorough and permanent ending of this particular war. As it turned out, a passionate kiss proved a most effective peace treaty.
Epilogue
June 1835
Coniston
“So, that’s our story, nearly too outlandish to be believed. I can hardly conceive of the fact that twenty years have passed.”
Alfred considered the woman’s claim and nodded. “I share your conclusion, Mrs. Ashford. However, I wholly enjoyed the telling.”
He gazed at the couple sitting across from him in the Black Bull Inn above Coniston Water. Although past forty and showing signs of gray, both remained striking in appearance and vigorous in discourse. Though in adjacent chairs, they remained lightly tethered with the unabashed grasp of fingertips. Despite their local celebrity, the Ashfords had been generous with him, sharing a meal and stories until near evening. He offered the slightest of smiles.
“It seems your gamble paid dividends. I hear the mine saved Coniston from virtual ruin.”
Mr. Ashford dipped his head in acknowledgment. “To our everlasting gratitude. The mine saved us all.”
Just then, a vigorous debate at the neighboring table shattered into gales of laughter. Alfred cut his eyes to regard the four youngsters. The eldest, perhaps sixteen, shook her finger in the face of her younger brother but was laughing too hard to admonish him. Alfred glanced back at the proud parents.
“A spirited lot, your children.”
“Indeed,” said Mr. Ashford. “I blame their mother.”
Mrs. Ashford stiffened her spine. “I gladly accept the credit. Better spirited than spirit-broken.”
Alfred nodded agreement. Spirit-brokenness was a desolate place. “Coniston seems a fine village in which to raise a family. Did not the two of you, however, hail from Oxfordshire?”
“We did, and planned to return there after resurrecting the mine. However, we fell as much in love with this place as with each other and failed to leave. We even managed to replace the Ashford estate, but here instead. We still own my father’s mill, though. It turns a modest profit now, unlike those darks days of the year without a summer.”
He fixated on her reference to that dismal year and the deeper metaphor of its meaning. Despite his relative youth, he knew of dark days, disappointment, and rejection. His accidental hosts must have sensed his encroaching melancholy.
“Chin up, Mr. Tennyson,” said Mr. Ashford. “Tell us, what is it that you do besides travel the lakes and fells of Britain?”
Alfred smirked gently, leaned forward in his chair, and folded his hands on the tabletop. “I write poetry. Your lack of recognition of my name betrays my astonishing absence of success.”
