“Thank you, that would be lovely, Lord Farellshire,” she replied.
“Yes, Lord Farellshire. You’re welcome anytime,” chirped Joyce. Meredith elbowed her again.
It was only several hours later, after she had finished unpacking and settling into her old room—which she had always shared with Joyce—that she could finally muster up enough courage to open Anthony’s letter.
Her first thought after reading it was that it was a good thing that she hadn’t read it in the coach. Otherwise, she may have changed her mind and had them turn the coach around right then and there.
Meredith often wondered how different things would be if she had done so. Whatifshe had read the letter immediately and then begged Lord Farellshire to turn the coach around? Whatifshe had sprinted back into Anthony’s study and declared that she, too, loved him and was grateful for how he had changed her life?
But those were pointless questions.
What’s happened has happened.There is no changing the past. There is only hope for a better future.
After spending two weeks in the orphanage, Ian paid a visit, explaining that whilst visiting his parents in East Brentmoor, he had met an Italian man married to an English woman who were in desperate need of a governess for their two young sons.
And two weeks after that, Mr. Venturi announced that his brother had found unique business opportunities in the textile industry in Florence.
Whether it was because of homesickness, the beckoning calls of opportunity and good prospects, or the fact that neither of his sons could speak Italian—and whatever few words they knew in Italian were recited in a very strong Brentmoorian accent—whatever the case, Mr. Venturi decided that he was going to move his family—and by extension, Meredith—thousands of miles to Florence, Italy.
Meredith tightly gripped the star pendant of the necklace Anthony had given her. Never before had she felt further away from him than at this very moment.
I must remember to send him another letter so that he can see our new address. Oh! And I must ask about Archimedes!
For now, she swiftly tidied up the notes and letters and immediately began to write her latest journal entry.
Epilogue
Eighteen Months Later…
Tabitha couldn’t help but hum. If her joints were a bit more cooperative, she would have swung her baskets and pranced her way home from the market.
Today had all the makings of a wonderful day. Ian had promised to finally introduce Tabitha and the children to the mystery patron who had anonymously financed numerous renovations to the orphanage over the course of the last two years.
Tabitha’s only wish was that Meredith could be here to see all of the renovations.
The precious child probably wouldn’t even recognize the orphanage if she saw it now!
Tabitha had to remind herself that in fact, Meredith was no longer a child.
In fact, she will turn two-and-twenty this year. Dear me, how the years fly!
Shortly after Meredith took up her post as governess under the Venturi family, a kindhearted stranger had sent several boxes full of coats, stockings, and sweaters for the children. All of them brand new!
At first, Tabitha suspected it was Ian’s doing, so she wrote him at once to thank him for his generosity. However, his response was quite baffling. He claimed that he had merely assisted in selecting the right clothing sizes, but he was not the main financier.
And then the donations—for lack of a better term—started getting out of hand, as it were. Soon the anonymous patron began sending toys, coloring pencils, even storybooks. Before long, he was donating money monthly so that Tabitha could finally afford to buy some proper meat rather than just buying chicken bones to make broth with.
The money always came through Ian, but he continuously asserted that he wasnotthe mystery patron, he was merely the middleman.
“Then why doesn’t the patron contact us directly?” she had asked him.
“It’s just the way he is. Trust me, Ma’am Tabitha, once he eventually agrees to reveal himself, you’ll understand that this is simply how his personality works.”
The children sent drawings and thank you notes of their own through Ian, and the patron always wrote back.
Before she knew it, Ian was relaying specific instructions from the patron as well. “So-and-so amount is to go towards repainting the house.” And, “Enclosed is such-and-such for new windows to be fitted.” So on and so forth.
Tabitha paused outside the orphanage’s gate and took it all in. The home now looked as good as—maybe even better than—it had when it was newly built. She was just happy that the children had a proper house to call home now.
