That night after dinner, Lucas called everyone for a meeting. Everyone, that is, except Jessica Lovelock, whom Lucas didn't entirely trust. He related his conversation with Sir Robert and Miss Littlewood, the Heathcliffes, and even Moulterd. Grinning, he even told them about his deal with Malcolm.
"Oh, so you're a double agent now, Mr. Lucas," Mrs. Slocombe teased. "Isn't it exciting! You're just like James Bond!"
"I'm afraid you'll have to settle for 'Lucas, James Lucas,' Mrs. Slocombe," he replied gallantly. "Especially as I haven't worn black tie for nearly twenty years!"
"I thought your name was Dick," she twitted.
"Richard James Lucas," he explained, "I switched to R.J. right after American week. I haven't forgotten you lot, calling me 'Dick' all the time! Every opportunity! And pausing right before the name, to make sure I knew you weren't just calling me by name. Are you free...Dick? Can you take this measurement...Dick? Oh, aren't you a clever...Dick! After that, I decided, no more. So now it's R. James Lucas, or just R.J. for short."
"R. James," Miss Brahms said, trying it out. "We could call you R. James. Especially if you're going to be spyin' for both sides, it'll help you remember that you're our James Lucas and not theirs!"
He chuckled at her pun, and then his face took on a faraway look. "My wife used to call me 'Jamie,'" he remembered.
"Your wife?" Miss Brahms exclaimed.
"You're married? You never said!" Wil accused.
Lucas shook his head. "Widowed. Four years now."
They murmured words of condolence, and Lucas decided now was the time to tell them. Time to tell them everything.
So he told them about leaving Grace Brothers, and he and his mother moving in with his uncle, because of his mother's failing health. Strangely, it was his uncle who'd passed away first, and—childless—had left all his estate to his nephew. With the money, Lucas had hired a young, Scottish nurse to look after his mother. Lucas had fallen head over heels for the nurse. A respectable time after his mother had passed, Lucas went to Scotland to track down, woo, and eventually marry the young nurse.
"Her name was Rose," he said. "Rose Rowe, and she hated it because she said it always sounded like someone starting to sing a round. She was glad enough to switch to Lucas when we got married, I can tell you!"
He explained that Rose had lived on a farm with her parents, but with both of them poorly, they couldn't look after the farm anymore. So after he and Rose married, he moved onto the farm and helped them—right up to the end, when they both passed away within weeks of each other. He and Rose had tried to keep the farm together as long as they could, but eventually they'd had to sell it and move to the city. Rose had got another nursing job at a hospital.
"Sadly, that was what ended up killin' her," he finished.
"What happened?" Wil asked quietly.
"Wrong place at the wrong time. She was hit and killed instantly—by an ambulance, ironically."
"Oh, how dreadful!" Mrs. Slocombe sympathized.
"That's 'orrible!" Miss Brahms chimed in, leaning over to place her hand on Lucas's.
He gave hers a squeeze, and sighed. "Thank you. I'm all right now, though. It's been four years, and I've got our little girl, still."
"You've got a daughter! I can't picture that, can you, Mrs. Slocombe?" Miss Brahms asked.
Mrs. Slocombe, somewhat overcome with emotion, wiped her eyes. "No, but I can't picture our Mr. Lucas settling down at all, much less learning all about farm work, either. You are a man of hidden depths, Mr. Lucas!"
"Well-hidden," Wil agreed. "Do you know, I never knew you had it in you!"
Lucas gave him a soft smile. "Love changes a man, Mr. Humphries. When it's real, that is."
"What was she like, your wife?" Miss Brahms wanted to know.
Lucas grinned at the memory. "Tiny and feisty, with fiery ginger hair and a temper to match. She had the hottest temper but the warmest heart of anyone I've ever met. She taught me everything she knew about farm work. She could master anything she tried, and she was that curious by nature that she wanted to try everything!"
Mrs. Slocombe sniffled. "Oh, isn't it romantic?"
"It sounds as if you miss her a great deal," Peacock ventured, with some feeling.
Lucas nodded. "I do, yes, of course I do. But my daughter helps a great deal. Looks just like her, you see."
"'Ow old is she?" Miss Brahms wanted to know.
"Lexie's almost nine," Lucas said proudly. "I've arranged to go get her in another week or so, and bring her here."
"Oh, how lovely, to have a child about the place!" Mrs. Slocombe gushed, clasping her hands together. "Lexie? Is that her name?"
He nodded. "Alexandra Rose. She'll liven the place up a bit, you'll see."
Mavis, who had said nothing the entire time, sniffled loudly and drew everyone's attention to her.
"Are you all right, dear?" Wil asked, pressing his handkerchief into her hand.
She wiped her streaming eyes and nodded, and then sent a watery smile over to Mr. Lucas as well. "It's such a beautiful story, Mr. Lucas, and I'm truly sorry for your loss, but I'm very glad you've finally come 'ome to your family!" she cried. "An' your little girl will be very welcome too!"
Lucas was touched. He swallowed a couple of times. "Th-thank you, Mavis," he said, his voice husky. He hadn't had a real family in years!
