A Fiery Dalliance

Epilogue

"Everything will turn out all right. You'll see." 

"I can't imagine how," said Atreyu.

"Neither can I," said the luckdragon. "But that's the best part of it." Michael Ende, The Neverending Story

----

Epilogue

January 1828

Two and a half years later

Perrie trudged through the snow, holding the hem of her dress with one hand to keep it dry, and the remnants of a rotten fence post in the other. She had committed the location of the broken fence to memory and she would have one of Joe's men go out in the morning to mend it.

Winter was a time of maintenance for those who worked land. Of course, they still farmed at a lighter level at this time of year. Onions were being tended to at that very moment by the men that they employed. But for the most part, winter was spent tending to the necessary repairs in preparation for planting.

Perrie knew that when her father had gifted her, Joe, and Ed this land, that he had never thought that they would farm it themselves. Landed gentry employed tenants, and those tenants farmed the land, and their income of the rents supported the gentry's lifestyle. But ownership of this earth was something that Joe took great pride in. He had learned all he could at Adam's side, and had taken his knowledge of management, and had worked with Ed to cultivate a thriving acreage.

Perrie could have easily adapted to being mistress of Althorpe Cottage. She had meant to, she supposed, but after a week of sitting in a parlour room by herself being served tea, she grew bored.

It was also far too difficult to annoy Joe if he was two miles away working in a field.

So, Perrie had joined her husband and her brother-in-law as they worked to develop the land. She had even pushed the plough a few times. The plough had not moved, of course. The stupid thing was far too heavy, but she had tried and had shouted out expletives that would have made even her grandmother blush.

The last harvest had been a fruitful one, and they had turned their first profit. Perrie was proud of herself for surpassing what society would have expected of her, but she was even more proud of Joe. She was proud of the man he had become, and she was grateful that his demons hardly knew where to find him anymore.

"Are you mad?"

Perrie looked up when she heard Joe's cry, and she saw him storming out of the house with an expression of disbelief on his face. He was dressed for the weather in a thick, woollen coat and sturdy winter boots.

"I was fairly certain that I saw a rotten post the other day, and I was right. Look." Perrie held up the wood in her hand, before she hissed, feeling a splinter pierce her skin.

Joe moved through the snow as quickly as he could to get to Perrie's side, though he glared at her the entire time. "I could have done that," he snapped, "or one of the men. You ought to be in your confinement. You are supposed to be readying yourself to go up to Ashwood House." Joe took the post from her and discarded it on the ground. He subsequently inspected her hand, and gently scraped the splinter from her palm with his fingernail.

"I don't want to be confined," Perrie protested. "I can still walk perfectly well. I'm just slightly plumper than I normally am."

Joe rolled his eyes and shook his head, but before Perrie could object, he had knocked the back of her knees out with his arm and had whipped her up into his arms. He then made a sound of struggle, and groaned, "Only slightly? My God, you're the size of a horse."