"Man, what are you talking about? Me in chains? You may fetter my leg but my will, not even Zeus himself can overpower." Epictetus, The Discourses

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XLI.

Cressie was able to move about more normally in the days that followed, albeit stiffly as the purple bruises appeared on her skin from her fall. She was in a bit of a haze of thick emotions and she was quite certain it would be some time before she would ever truly be able to comprehend just what had happened to her.

But if ever she felt herself being caught up in the gravity of it all, she need only remind herself that she was safe and free, and that she was in this house by her own choice. Never would she choose to leave Jem's side again. And how Jem was patient with her.

One needed to only witness Jem's tenderness to know that he was raised with utter compassion. His nature was to care and protect, and he was why she felt as safe as she did. She loved him completely for it.

Cressie loved Jem for a multitude of reasons. She was still counting the ways. But to be made to feel so safe so soon after such an ordeal was incredible.

Gone was any pretence of propriety. She rarely left Jem's side, and never did at night. Cressie could not have cared less about any sort of scandal. She had taken no notice of that sort of thing, though she had no doubt that her name was being flown around London by the gossips after the scene that had been made on the day Dabney had rendered justice.

Widows traditionally wore mourning attire for an age and certainly did not plan on remarrying within the first year after their spouse's death. Cressie would have remarried within hours if it were possible.

In protest, or rather celebration of her own free will, Cressie was dressed in white, the complete opposite to black.

"My brother and sister wish to dine before we return to Ashwood," Jem told Cressie tentatively. He read from a letter as they ate their breakfast together in the dining room, though his expression was uncertain. "Claire and her husband, Jack, and Peter and his wife, Belle. I can refuse them if you are not ready to receive visitors."

"They're your family," Cressie replied softly, "only ..."

"Only what?" Jem prompted once Cressie had trailed off.

She bit down on her bottom lip nervously. "Have you told them? Have you told them about the baby?" It was highly likely they already knew. It was highly likely half of England knew. Again, Cressie did not care at all what strangers thought of her. But she did care what Jem's family thought. And she knew that he would, too. His family were so proper. His eldest sister was a duchess. Cressie couldn't imagine any of Jem's sisters doing something so shameful as to falling pregnant out of wedlock.

"No, I haven't told them," Jem replied tenderly. He seemed to read Cressie's hesitancy and uneasiness on her face and he took her hand. "But we will," he said encouragingly. "They will be happy for us," he promised. "And they will all love our son or daughter." Jem artfully collected Cressie with a gentle pull to her hand, inviting her into his lap so that he could wrap his arms around her, holding his hands on her stomach protectively.

Cressie nestled into his chest and sighed. "Our son or daughter," she repeated in a whisper. "What would you rather?"

"A girl who looks exactly like you," Jem answered almost immediately, like he'd been thinking about it for a while.

His comment brought a smile to her lips immediately. Cressie wanted a girl as well, but for different reasons. The first was because she knew that there would be less likelihood of interference from the Delaney estate if her child was a girl. Her late prison warden (for she was loathed to call him 'husband'), had proclaimed to the world that she was unfaithful, and so there was little chance of any claim on the child, but she did not want to risk it.

The second reason was because she longed to have a girl who could enjoy her own freedom from her very first breath. No daughter of Cressie and Jem would ever be forced to do anything. From eating a Brussels sprout, to entertaining suitors. Free will would always be the order of the day.

"So long as she has your ocean eyes," Cressie decided, looking up at Jem and finding his eyes on her. Aside from her conch shell, they were the closest things to the sea that she had ever seen. "If she has your eyes then I shall be content if I never set foot on a beach."

"You will see the ocean one day," Jem promised, leaning down and kissing her softly on the forehead.

A knock on the dining room door disturbed them, and both Jem and Cressie looked up. Cressie righted herself immediately and shifted herself back into her own chair. The door opened and the Ashwood Place butler stood before them, appearing very awkward indeed.

Before Cressie could wonder if the butler's unease had anything to do with her, he said, "A servant has arrived with a letter for you, Miss Martin." Jem had insisted that Cressie be referred to by her maiden name. Cressie quite agreed. "She is waiting in the kitchen. She is insisting that she deliver it to you herself."

Cressie frowned, but she did not have to wonder for long. For whom else could it be? Who else would have such a nerve as to make demands of a butler for such a family? Who else would carry such an air of self-importance but the lackey of a prison warden?

"Is it Imelda Wrigley?" Cressie asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, ma'am," confirmed the butler.

"Tell her to kindly walk in front of a carriage," Jem snarled.

"No, I want to speak with her," Cressie decided.

"Are you sure?" Jem frowned. "Cressie, you needn't. She can be made to go."

"I want to," Cressie assured him insistently. She stood up from the dining room table and Jem followed suit, taking her hand before they followed the butler out of the dining room.

The servants were all busy below stairs as they went about their daily duties. The moment that they entered the kitchen, Cressie could see the scullery maids attending to the pots that had been used to prepare the breakfast dishes that she and Jem had been enjoying only moments ago. She could see another servant sitting at the long table adjacent to the kitchen with her dress in hand and a sewing kit as she mended the rips that had been made when she had tumbled down the stairs.

Standing in the middle of it all wearing a dark cloak and bonnet was her lady's maid. In her gloved hand, Cressie could see that Imelda was holding a sealed letter. Whether or not it was a legitimate letter, or merely a ruse to speak to Cressie, she was unsure. Cressie, however, wanted to see this woman one last time regardless.

"Wrigley," Cressie murmured.

Imelda did not curtsey. She did, however, nod in acknowledgment as she said, "Mrs Delaney."

Cressie did not correct her, though she could feel Jem tense at her side. This movement in Jem's long limbs captured Imelda's attention briefly, and she did not hide her sneer.

"Don't you dare look at Mr Denham in such a way," Cressie commanded with an authority once lost to her. Her tone startled Imelda, as the maid was taken aback.

Nevertheless, she averted her eyes and focussed on Cressie. Her gaze flicked over the bruises that were very apparent on Cressie's face. "I have been charged with delivering this to you." She held out the letter. "It is from Mr Delaney's solicitor."

Cressie did not accept the letter. She did not reach for it. She simply stared at her maid. "Why do you still do his bidding? He is dead."

Imelda flinched.

"How could you ever comply with such a man? You knew what he was," Cressie accused. "You knew it. Look at me. Look at what he did. You knew it all."

"You vowed to love, honour, and obey your husband, and you broke your word. You deserved what you got," Imelda replied dryly. "It is the way. A husband has the right to demand obedience and respect from his wife."

"If obedience and respect must be commanded from a subordinate, then it is not true obedience and respect," retorted Cressie. "Wedding vows work both ways. He made promises also, Wrigley. Look at me. Look at what he did to me." Cressie gestured to her face.

Cressie could see the conflict on Imelda's face, as though her belief in a wife's submission was ingrained within her. She could not understand how one could ever justify a man's abuse of his position.

"You became another man's whore," Imelda said distastefully. "You deserved it," she reiterated.

"Get out!" commanded Jem, pointing to the door.

"God save you," Cressie uttered in disbelief.

"God save you," Imelda retorted. "I came here not only to deliver this letter, but to offer you the chance to see sense. I have always tried my best to make you the best mistress you could be. I have failed as you have fought me every day, but you have one last opportunity. Mr Delaney's parents are travelling to London. There will be a funeral service conducted where you will be expected to attend as his widow. There will undoubtedly be a widow's pension from the estate, which is what I imagine the solicitor writes to you about. It is time for you to grow up, Mrs Delaney."

Cressie had to put her hand on Jem's chest to stop him from intervening. Had she not, Cressie was quite certain that he would have physically expelled Imelda from the kitchen window.

"You're right," Cressie admitted calmly, nodding her head.

Even Imelda seemed surprised at Cressie's sudden acquiescence. Jem certainly stiffened.

"It is time for me to grow up. For only children, nay, indentured servants so blindly obey." She shook her head. "I will never mourn anyone who wields their power over those weaker than them. I will never grieve a man whose nature was always to be cruel and never kind. I will not pretend to miss a man who never loved me, but collected me, like a trophy on a shelf. I want nothing from him. I want nothing at all. I choose not to read that letter, and I choose to forget that I was ever tied to someone as inhuman as him. God save you, Imelda. I saved me."

***

Zara knew that she would be eventually summoned back to live with her grandparents, but until she was discovered, she travelled along with Jem, Cressie, and Mrs Martin to Hertfordshire.

After the warm reception she had received by Jem's family in London, she was feeling excited and optimistic, especially as the London environment disappeared, and the countryside surrounded them.

Again, she knew that time would be the true healer, but exercising these freedoms for herself felt like air in her lungs. And she knew that if she demanded the carriage be stopped and diverted all the way to Cornwall, then it would be so.

When they began to travel through the outskirts of the Ashwood village, Cressie began to recognise it, even though she had only lived there briefly five years earlier. Perhaps in meeting someone terribly special, she had committed it unknowingly to memory.

"Oh, my goodness," Zara gasped as they finally came in view of the great house. Cressie's eyes, similarly, widened. She had never seen it either. "What an extraordinary house. You live here, Jem?"

Jem chuckled. "No." He shook his head. "My brother-in-law and sister do. I have a house on their land as part of my duties as Land Steward."

"And I thought that Grandpapa and Grandmamma were well to do," Zara muttered under her breath.

"Do not be intimidated," Jem urged. "Any of you," he emphasised. "Grace is my eldest sister, and were it possible, she would give you the blood in her veins if you needed it. And her husband, Adam, is the most decent man. He gave me a chance and taught me how to be his steward. They are the definition of good people."

Cressie had met them before obviously, but she had never known them in such an intimate setting. Even though her meeting with Claire, Peter, and their spouses, had gone swimmingly, the thought of knowing the Duke and Duchess of Ashwood so informally was daunting.

When the carriage stopped and the footmen climbed down to open the door, Mrs Martin and Zara exited first, and Jem subtly held Cressie back from following. For the briefest moment, Jem placed a chaste kiss on her lips, before smiling and nodding. "We're here," he whispered.

"Do I look alright?" she asked in the same hushed tone. The bruises on her face had yellowed by then, and the swelling from the cut on her forehead had gone down. She simply looked a little discoloured upon first glance.

"You're beautiful," Jem uttered. "I have been mercilessly distracted by your beauty for the best part of my adult life. It is hardly fair."

Jem's grin elicited a laugh from Cressie, and how it felt good to laugh. She was reminded of the days when they had once been able to laugh and be silly and enjoy the other's company under the veil of late childhood. With time as her healer, Cressie knew there would be a lot more laughing in her future.

"I am terribly sorry, Mr Denham. I shall endeavour to make myself uglier so as not to distract you." Cressie subsequently contorted her face into the most ridiculous expression that she could conjury, and Jem snorted, before he pulled her close to kiss her again, more deeply this time.

***

Before the party had barely even reached the front door, let alone crossed the threshold into the foyer, a young girl moving faster than a flash of lightning burst through the parade of footmen carrying the travellers' luggage.

"Uncle Jem!" Perrie cheered, throwing herself into Jem's arms.

Jem chuckled as he swung his niece around. When he placed Perrie back onto her feet, he was glad to see that she had not grown or changed much in his absence. She was destined to be short like her mother. Perrie's large blue eyes briefly took in the rest of the guests, but she did not acknowledge them. There was determination in her eyes, and Jem recognised that expression of justice.

Oh, dear. What had she done?

"Mama and Papa are being ridiculous!" Perrie exclaimed. "I am being punished until the end of the decade, so I am so glad that you are here, because I need you to go to Papa's study and tell him it was all your idea! Papa likes you. He won't punish you." Perrie scampered around Jem and placed her hands flat on his back, before she pushed him with all her might. Jem staggered forwards a few steps, before he regained his footing. They did, however, move inside the foyer.

"Cressie, Mrs Martin, Zara," Jem called over his shoulder, watching that they had followed him inside. "This is my niece, Perrie. Perrie, won't you greet –"

"Uncle Jem!" Perrie huffed, interrupting him. She ceased pushing and came back around to face him. She put her hands on her hips and stared up at him with gumption beyond her years. "Are you listening to me? I am being punished until the end of the decade! And none of it was my fault!"

Jem sighed with a wicked grin on his face. "What happened?"

"Do you remember when I showed you that embroidery?" Perrie prompted. "The one with 'Little Imp' stitched upon it? That's what he always calls me. Always! Never anything but that. Mrs Hayes measured me, and I have grown one quarter inch this year!" she insisted.

Had she? Jem dared not offend Perrie with his remark seeing as whatever she had done warranted such a great punishment. He managed to mask his smirk.

"So, I put pins on his chair as you suggested."

Jem heard a giggle from behind him.

"And then he removed the nails from my chair so that I fell in front of everyone. So, I snuck dung onto his chair so that he would sit in it and then I accused him of soiling himself in front of everyone. He then cut off a chunk of my hair!" Perrie fished through her long, dark locks to find a large piece that was shorter than the rest. "It was only right what I did, don't you think?"

Whomever this boy was, he certainly brought the competition out of Perrie. But they were clearly as bad as one another. He was nasty, and Perrie gave it right back to him.

"Seeing as I don't know what you did next, I am not so sure."

Perrie huffed. "Mama and Papa said I could invite the school children to Ashwood to swim in the pond because it was hot."

Jem's face fell as he recalled Perrie's original plan that she had relayed to him in his house months ago. She hadn't gone through with it, had she?

"We were playing, honest! He was splashing me and calling me an imp, and so ..." Perrie pursed her lips guiltily.

"So, what?" prompted Jem.

"Promise me you will go and tell Papa it was your idea so I can stop being punished," Perrie begged.

"The pin was my idea. I'm not taking the blame for anything else," Jem retorted. "You didn't try to drown him, did you?"

"Not really!" Perrie exclaimed. "I climbed on his shoulders and sat on him for not even a full minute! He was probably under water for ten seconds and then decided to be a baby." She rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest indignantly. "I was never going to actually drown him. And he got right back at me by stealing my clothes! He wasn't even upset. He laughed at me! He's just evil and stupid and wicked and Mama and Papa are overreacting."

"Overreacting?" came a commanding voice from above. "Have you finished your letter of apology, or do you desire to be punished until the end of the next decade as well?" Adam asked with his brows raised.

"Papa, you do realise that giving him an apology letter will only cause him to torture me even more!" Perrie scowled at her father as he descended the stairs.

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you tried to drown the poor boy," dismissed Adam as he shooed Perrie away towards the stairs.

Perrie gasped. "Poor boy?" she repeated. "Papa, he's wicked and evil! And if I hadn't had the idea to drown him, I mean, if Uncle Jem hadn't had the idea to drown him first, then he would have tried to drown me!"

"My God, we named you girls around the wrong way," Adam sighed. "If ever there was a Cecily-incarnate, it is you, Perrie."

Perrie growled under her breath as she stomped up the stairs dramatically.

"I never suggested drowning!" Jem joked as he held his hands up.

Adam laughed. "Just quietly, I rather enjoy Perrie's colourful creativity. I should prefer that she channels it into more ladylike pursuits, but then I think I prefer her being merciless towards the opposite sex. It is settling me before I have to inevitably think about taking her to London one day for a Season." Adam then looked up at the accompanying guests and smiled warmly. "Do forgive my daughter. That is hardly a proper welcome."

Jem smiled. He rather enjoyed Perrie's spirit as well. "Allow me to make introductions."

***

"Are you happy, Jemmy?"

"I thought I told you never to call me that." But Jem couldn't be angry at his sister. Never.

Grace had looped her arm through Jem's as she sat next to him closely on the settee in the drawing room after dinner. It had been too long since Jem had been in a room this full. Grace had invited everyone for dinner only after ensuring that Cressie would be alright with a parade of Denhams and Beresfords descending upon her. Jem knew that Cressie would never refuse a duchess, but he had privately asked her as well.

She was sat on the opposing settee in deep conversation with Mrs Denham and Kate, their other family members having dotted themselves around the room in similar conversations with glasses of champagne in hand. It was a celebration, after all.

"But yes, to answer your question. I am happy."

Grace rubbed Jem's arm affectionately. "I might cry." True enough, her voice was thick with emotion.

Jem chuckled. "You haven't been this worried about me, have you?"

Grace rested her head on Jem's shoulder. "I think it's a special something that grows within you when you become a parent. You will learn it soon enough. The capacity to worry amplifies dramatically. And when my sisters and brother have been so fortunate, as have I, myself, to find true love matches, I could only worry that you had missed your chance, or that you would never open yourself up to trying again."

Jem's eyes flicked around the room, finding the spouses of his siblings. Adam and Jim were engaged in conversation with Alex and Susanna, but both men seemed to naturally look back at their wives sporadically, as though they couldn't help it. Jem might have once found such devotion amusing, but he understood it now.

He found himself doing the same thing. He had to look back at Cressie, to make certain that she was really here, and with him. And he felt like the luckiest sod to ever walk the planet.

"Thank you for accepting her," Jem replied. "You cannot know what that means to me, and to Cressie as well. She was anxious about her condition and how you would all feel –"

"Always!" Grace interjected. "Jem, I do not care how the right people find their way to our family, so long as they get here. We get to welcome a sister-in-law and a new niece or nephew. It is a good day."

Jem was still watching Cressie, and at that moment, her brown eyes came up to find his. Jem could see the relief on her face, and the happiness that she was allowing to radiate within her. For someone whose life had been so lived for others, autonomy looked beautiful on her.  

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Surprise mid week upload! I'm on holidays! I'll do my best to get another chapter up on Saturday, but it will be Christmas Eve, so I may fail - we shall see! Maybe I'll go crazy and write again tonight. Keep checking back haha

Can you believe that? Christmas is here already. Mad. 

This will be the last chapter before the epilogue. We're finally at the end! Then we'll jump right into Perrie's story with her unnamed nemesis hehehe (of course I know his name but you don't :P)

I so hope you've enjoyed being on this roller coaster of a ride with me since March when I started this story. I told you that I always get us here in the end. I've got a few last little things to do in the epilogue of this story before we gear right back up for fiery Perrie in her fiery dalliance hehe. 

I'll add in another family tree in the next chapter so you can keep up with everyone's kids lol. A few were born in this book you may have forgotten about hahaha

Alright, I need to get up and get moving for the day! 

Vote and comment!!