The sounds of laughter reached Bertie Pelham's ears as he was sitting by the open window in his office at Brancaster, busy with the book-keeping for the estate.

There were three people laughing, three happy, female voices. His wife, his mother and his daughter. The three people that were most important to him in the world.

Edith and Bertie's mother got on remarkably well together. Edith had impressed his mother with her honesty. And mother had impressed Edith with her quick acceptance of the circumstances around Marigold's birth.

And Marigold had - of course - won her new granny Pelham's heart. Just like she won everybody else's heart.

Bertie smiled to himself. Life was good to him. Everything had worked out so unbelievably well.

...

This closeness and fondness between Edith and his mother was nothing Bertie had expected to happen. Edith actually got along with Bertie's mother much better than Bertie himself did.

His mother was difficult to have even as a mother. She loved him and doted on him but at the same time she didn't appear to have much faith in his abilities. Nothing he ever did seemed good enough for her.

Bertie's mother had wanted him to get married and have children, as early as possible, but at the same time he doubted that she would find any woman good enough to marry her son. In fact Bertie had used to pity the young woman - whoever she might be - that would one day become his wife.

Not because he was going to treat his wife badly, of course not. He was a modern man who believed that a marriage should be a union of equals.

No - he felt sorry for his future wife because of his mother.

He could just imagine what she would be like to have as a mother-in-law. The most difficult relationship of them all - the one between a man's wife and his mother.

Or rather, he couldn't imagine what it would be like. So he had pitied the poor girl who was - some time in the future - going to experience it.

...

Edith had surprised him, in this matter as well as so many others.

Bertie had once said that his mother makes Mr. Squeers look like Florence Nightingale. This was when Peter had just died, and Bertie felt bad about his mother's negative opinions of Bertie's beloved cousin. Describing his mother like that had felt a bit unfair at the time, but not all that far from the truth, and he had felt that he had to warn Edith. His mother had a habit of saying what she thought, no matter if it made others uncomfortable.

But things had changed with Edith. At first Edith had made an effort to get along with Bertie's mother, but after a while she didn't have to. The two women had realised they really liked each other. They had developed a strong friendship over the generations, founded as it was on their mutual love for Bertie himself and little Marigold.

...

Bertie had been married for seven months now. He had a wonderful wife and a wonderful little daughter - Marigold was properly adopted by him now. It was nice to hear the little girl call him Papa, but it was even nicer that she was now calling Edith Mama. Bertie knew how much that simple thing meant to Edith. At last she could acknowledge the little girl as her daughter, and she didn't care if people thought the girl was her adopted daughter. Everyone important knew the true facts.

Their second child was already on it's way. Bertie was rather proud of himself for making Edith's belly grow. But quite contrary to what he might have expected, he sometimes worried if he could really love this second child as much as he loved little Marigold.

That was how much she had managed to capture his heart.


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