The King will want to know all of this,” Aaron managed, in the carriage on the way home. Beside him, Shauna raised an eyebrow.
“Does he need to know right now?”
“Not to cause offense,” Lola said. “But this country has taken enough from me this day. I don't feel like giving up some time to stop at the palace today.”
“He'll hear one way or another,” Harold said, as Annabelle leaned on his shoulder. “Today, we have to deal with nothing more than our basic needs.”
“The children?” Annabelle asked, and Harold shook his head.
“They will be safe in the country for a day,” he said. “They are in good hands, until we figure out how to...cope,” he eyed Lola.
“I'm not planning his funeral today,” she said, softly. “Not today, when I can still feel his presence beside me. Oh, Lord,” she looked towards the ceiling, her eyes filling with tears. “First the theater and now this.”
She turned, burying her face in Shauna's shoulder. It was the most emotional they had ever seen her. Lola was trained to control her emotions, to suppress anything that didn't suit her character at the time. Today, she felt like she had lost all control.
When the carriage rolled up to Bamber Manor, she almost didn't want to go inside. It seemed a million years ago that she had woken up beside Wesley, curling into him in the early dawn light.
This morning, she had been married. Now, she was widowed.
“What happens to my title?” she managed. “Tannoy is dead, Wesley is dead...”
“You will be known as Dowager Countess,” Annabelle said, as she helped her brother out of the carriage. “Until the end of your days. But the title will travel to a male heir, however distant.”
“There isn't anyone else,” Lola answered. “At least, not anyone who...he has family, but they are so distant. What a terrible mess.”
“It's not your concern,” Annabelle said. Lola didn't mean to snap, but she couldn't help it.
“Of course it is,” she replied. “The past few years of my life have been entwined in Rippon life. I am a scandal, Annabelle, a secret he shouldn't have told. Whoever the heir is isn't going to be so kind as to let me keep a place to live and...”
“Lola,” Aaron said, gently. “You don't need any of that. You don't need the title, you don't need a house. You are strong, independent, and you made your way in the world before him.”
“That's all I need,” the tears streaked her face. “All I need is him.”
Morgan was watching her from behind, as he got out of the second carriage. There were so many things he wanted to say to her about raw grief, but none of them was very pleasant.
He wanted to tell her that it didn't get easier; time didn't heal all wounds. The grief for his wife still tore a hole in his heart every waking moment. She plagued his dreams; he thought that he saw her on every street corner.
It didn't get easier; but he got better at hiding it.
“Lola,” he spoke up, trying to find the words to share this with her. Just as he spoke, another carriage pulled up.
All of them looked it in confusion. They were all present, standing beside their carriages. Harold tensed, putting his hand to his sword. Aaron tried to shelter the women, who, after the day they had, were not even bothered. No one had any energy left to deal with the carriage.
Lola wiped another tear away, terrified that anyone who she didn't know would see her so broken, so vulnerable. This wasn't like her, but she had never experienced such sadness.
The door opened, and the clouds covered the moon.
A tall dark figure stepped out, just as the clouds vanished again.
Shauna gasped, and Annabelle did a double take in disbelief. Aaron took a step back, unsure of what he was seeing and Harold took a step forward.
“How?” he asked Wesley, in disbelief. “How is this possible? You...we heard the explosion.”
“Because he's smart,” Lola's voice was broken with tears as she finally managed to speak. “That's always been the case, isn't it, my love? You've always been smarter than the rest of us.”
“I don't know about that,” Wesley said. “But I am here, Lola. I am real.”
“I know,” she said, and flew into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair and inhaling her scent. “Oh Lord, don't ever do that again”
“Mmm,” was all he managed to say.
“Are you alright, Wesley?” Aaron asked, half amused.
“Just bruised, sir,” he managed, as Lola finally let go of him. His comrades came forward, getting him with a hug, a handshake, and general surprise.
“How did you do it?” Harold asked “The explosion I heard...”
“It's a story for another time,” Wesley managed. “Gentlemen, Ladies...I have never wanted a drink so badly in my life, if you don't mind.”
“That we can do,” Aaron said, and they headed inside. Lola was locked hand in hand with him, looking up at him as if he were a god returned. Morgan lingered behind for a moment, glancing up at the sky as the cloud cover returned.
“Sir?” Matheson said, at his side. “Is all well?”
“Aye,” Morgan answered. “I just...can't go inside right now. I can't watch. It isn't fair, Matheson.”
“Life isn't fair,” Matheson agreed. “There is no rhyme or reason to why some of us are taken and others are not. We just have to trust the life that God has given us.”
“Well, that's the thing, I've never quite trusted anyone,” Morgan said, softly. “Except her, my countess.”
“This...affair between you and Miss Lola, though...”
“Contrived,” Morgan said, quickly. “For the sake of her plan, only. Although I did find a kindred spirit in the young Countess, I assure you that was all. I was a willing pawn if you will, for a moment free from loneliness.”
“Good,” Matheson said. “Because we've become a family, all of us. And we'd welcome you to be part of that family, Morgan, but not if...”
“There's no fear,” Morgan assured him. “Now that Wesley is back, anyways.”
“Good,” Matheson clapped him on the back. “Let's go inside then, together. It's going to be alright.”
“You keep saying that,” Morgan said. “How do you know?”
“Because I've been through quite a few more years than you,” Matheson said. “And I've seen a lot of hell. As long as you keep drawing breath, there is a way.”
“You always know the right thing to say, don't you?” Morgan gave him a small smile. “Is that how you've survived this long?”
“Or I know what side my bread is buttered,” Matheson replied. “And right now, that butter is on Lord Bamber's shelf. Shall we?”
Morgan finally laughed at that and followed Matheson inside.
The mood inside the house was different than when they had first left. It was lighter, happier, as if they were invincible. Lola didn't seem to want to leave her husband's side all night, which was understandable. However, just before they turned in for the night, she stopped by Morgan's side.
“Thank you,” she said, softly. He cocked an eyebrow at her, half drunk.
“It was all you, Milady,” he said. “I was just a follower.”
“It was both of us,” she said. “Everyone is alive because of both of us.”
“Not everyone,” Morgan said, and she patted his hand.
“Yes,” she said. “Not everyone.”
He gave her a little nod and she followed her husband up to bed, her heart half heavy. Her love was home, but Morgan was right, not everyone was alive.
She wasn't sure she deserved happiness any more than anyone else, but she was not about to take it for granted, in any case.