AN: In honour of yesterday's first episode of series 10, another chapter... Finally, a knot is tied. Hope you enjoy...

Miss Evershed did not, however, obtain much of the sleep she had planned for herself. At six o'clock sharp, she was awoken abruptly by the clattering of iron and the screech of the housemaid as she opened the study door and discovered James sprawled in front of the fire. With a groan of complaint, Ruth rose, washed and dressed herself and went downstairs. It seemed it would be a long day.

The maid was seated on a chair in the hall, on the verge of a swooning fit, while James stood by, looking disoriented - his neckcloth was askew, and his usually carefully arranged hair was mussed. He shot his aunt an apologetic look as she descended the stairs. She gestured him back into the study, and he retreated gratefully, shutting the door behind him with a soft snap. MIss Evershed bent down beside the maid, who, she recalled, would not have ever seen the youngest Mr Bailey, and quietly explained the situation, handing over her smelling salts as she did so. Once the maid had been comforted and returned to her duties, Ruth herself took her recently vacated chair and covered her face with her hands, unsure whether she ought to laugh or cry. It was whilst in this state that she heard more footsteps descending the stairs - Edward, awoken by the downstairs commotion, and thus in a foul temper.

"Ruth! What the devil is going on?" he asked sharply. She took a steadying breath, arose, and wordlessly opened the study door for him. James leapt up at the sight of his father, a guilty schoolboy once more. Edward's face darkened, too used to his son's wayward larks to believe that his presence here now betokened anything other than severe trouble, and Ruth made a hasty exit. The study door slammed, echoing around the house, and soon the sound of raised male voices could be heard. Pausing in her own room, Miss Evershed allowed herself the luxury of feeling how exhausted she was. She had never enjoyed quarrels - she had been forced to endure too many between her parents as a small child - and they always upset her composure now. A few tears dotted her cheeks, which she hastily wiped away at the sound of Samantha entering her room, expecting her to be still abed.

"Oh! Good morning, ma'am! I thought you'd be asleep and dreaming still, what with you working all the hours God sends and more for Miss Elizabeth," was the reproving greeting Ruth was awarded, in soft Scots. Forcing a smile, she turned around and accepted a pile of her freshly laundered linen from her maid. "Not at all, Samantha. I'm quite well."

Samantha frowned anxiously. "But, miss, you've not slept a full night for nearly a month now, and you're very pale…"

Ruth laughed. "Thank you! I am sure whenever I need a compliment, my dear, I shall come straight to you!"

The maid blushed deeply, and began to stammer apologies, but Ruth laid a friendly hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad for your concern," she reassured her seriously. "But I shall manage quite well if only I can rest for a moment after lunch."

Samantha, who had begun arranging the linen in a drawer, tutted darkly, and informed her mistress, "I don't see that that's at all likely, with the master and Mr James downstairs, both flying up into the boughs! They should have more thought for you and Miss Elizabeth is all I can say, ma'am…" Ruth let Samantha chatter on, venting her spleen over the careless behaviour of men, as she prepared herself fully for the day ahead. She was not optimistic.

The next few days passed in a depressing succession of quarrels, angry silences and curt words from both James and his father. Ruth did what she could to qualify their mutual irritation, and comfort Elizabeth, whose initial delight at the sight of the brother whom she loved best and who was closest in age to herself was being tempered somewhat by the consequences of his sudden appearance, but her efforts were largely in vain. Fortunately, the wedding was now too close for petty familial disagreements to dominate for too long, and before the week was out, Edward had managed to come to some sort of peace with his wayward son, and Ruth could breathe a sigh of relief.

All the preparations for the wedding had been successfully completed, and now Ruth could turn her attention to the other pressing matter of her removal from Upper Wimpole Street. Bandboxes, trunks and all manner of boxes were taken by carriage to Lady Radford's in the days preceding the wedding, and by its eve, Ruth could count on the fingers of one hand the number of her personal possessions that remained in Edward's house. Miss Evershed lay in bed that night, relief swamping her. Tomorrow, it would all be over and she could rest at peace for a while. She had spoken to Elizabeth already about the wedding night, determined that her niece would not be as shockingly unprepared and naive as many girls of her station were. Her gown for the morrow, ordered specially for the occasion, hung in the wardrobe, along with a plainer dress for later, when she would return to Upper Wimpole Street for the last time to remove her remaining belongings. A slight smile on her face, Miss Evershed sank into a deep sleep.

The wedding of Miss Elizabeth Bailey to Captain Dimitri Levendis of the -th Regiment, on 10th July 1812, was, everyone agreed, a wonderful day. The bride was blooming, the groom handsome, and both very much in love. The bride's aunt remained very much in the background of the celebrations, watching everything, filled with pride, love and happiness, glad that her hard work over the past month had been worthwhile. Elizabeth and her husband were constantly surrounded by a crowd of well-wishers, and Ruth only regretted that she would not have much of a chance to speak to her niece.

She was wrong, however. The bridal coach drew up outside the Baileys' house, and Captain Levendis grasped his wife's hand, ready to draw her from the room. At the last moment, however, Elizabeth caught up Ruth's hand with a murmur of, "Come and say farewell, aunt!" and pulled her from the room as well. Outside, as Dimitri exchanged pleasantries with his groom, giving his bride a little time alone with the woman who had been as a mother to her, Elizabeth hugged her aunt fiercely. "Congratulations, my darling!" Ruth told her sincerely. "You shall be so very happy, I am sure."

Elizabeth brushed away a tear and nodded, trying to smile. "I know I shall, Aunt Ruth. But I shall be so lost without you! When we go to Spain, I am sure Dimitri and I would deal twice as well with each other if you were to be there too."

Ruth chuckled incredulously. "Spain? At my age? Nonsense, child. I shall be quite content here."

Elizabeth pulled a face, clearly not impressed by her aunt's words. "I shall write as often as I can, you know," she promised sincerely. "But, you know, you are not so very old, aunt - only six and thirty. It is only bringing up the boys and me that has made you feel older, I daresay." An apologetic look flashed over her face as she added, "We plagued you most dreadfully at one time, I think."

Ruth laughed at her niece's honesty, and hugged her once more. "Yes, you did… But I would not have had it otherwise, Beth."

And then Dimitri approached, kissed his aunt's cheek quickly, and took his bride's hand once more. Beth squeezed Ruth's hand, there was a faint, "Goodbye!", then both entered the carriage and drove away. Ruth held her hand up, waving at the retreating vehicle until it had turned the street corner and vanished entirely.

A deep sense of loss enveloped her and she remained standing on the steps of the house for several minutes, composing herself, before she felt equal to returning to the house. As she shut the door behind her, a voice sounded behind her. "You will feel the loss of your niece deeply, Miss Evershed." It was Sir Henry. Pausing for a moment in surprise, Ruth turned and flashed him a wan smile, wondering why she suddenly felt much warmer than she had done a moment ago. Her cheeks felt strangely as if they were flushing. His face was filled with concern, and he held two wine glasses in his hands, one of which he offered to her. She accepted it gratefully and took a sip before replying.

"I shall. I am being exceedingly selfish, I am sure. I am very happy for Elizabeth, very happy indeed, and yet…" She broke off, searching for the words to describe the tumult of feelings lodged in her heart at present.

Sir Henry smiled kindly, and suggested helpfully, "And yet you feel as though everything has been irrevocably altered." Ruth recalled their meeting with his daughter at Somerset House, and wondered if he was speaking from personal experience. He had admitted to her his disapproval at the time of the choice his daughter had made, and she could guess the regret that had followed it. She nodded thoughtfully, grateful for his ability to put into words that which she could not. "That is just it. Foolish of me."

He shook his head. "I have never heard you utter a foolish sentiment, ma'am. One might argue that you have lost a daughter today." His words echoed so closely her current feelings that her head twisted sharply to stare into his eyes, amazed at his perception and the way in which he coincided perfectly with her. Hesitantly, she explained, "When my sister died, I was… glad to come here and be a mother to Elizabeth. I was glad for the occupation." Ruth felt that she did not need to explain, to this kind, gentle man, the sort of life that Elizabeth and her brothers had saved her from - her remaining love and loyalty to her late father had meant that she had never been welcome in her stepfather's house and he had only tolerated her presence there because of her quiet way of making herself useful to her mother. And yet she had refused to ask Lady Radford for help, especially during the last illness of Lord Radford, which had eventually led to his death. She had felt trapped and miserable, and the news of Susannah's death had broken on her, after the initial grief had faded, as a wave of freedom. At Upper Wimpole Street, she had been given an allowance of her own, and had been placed in a position of love and authority with the children, who, as they had grown, had come to trust in and rely on her as much as, if not more than, they did their father.

Sir Henry, sensing from the way her face had closed up that the memories she was reliving were not pleasant, prompted her gently, "And now, Miss Evershed? What shall occupy your time now?"

Forcing herself back to the far happier present, Ruth finished her glass of wine. "Oh, I do not require lavish entertainments or anything of that sort. Pleasant company, mental activity and the sense that I am doing good in some way to somebody - that is all I need to be perfectly content, sir." He chuckled, eyes alive with enjoyment at this marvel's way of speaking.

"Then," he informed her, raising his glass in a silent toast, "the ton have much to learn from you, Miss Evershed. In fact, as an aid to your perfect contentment, perhaps you would allow me to escort you to the balloon ascension at Hyde Park next Tuesday. I cannot vouch for my being entirely pleasant company, but I think the science of ballooning will engage your mind, and you will certainly be doing some good to somebody."

Her eyebrows rose in curiosity and she tilted her head on one side in that birdlike way of hers of which he had come to be very fond. She could not deny that she was flattered by Sir Henry's invitation, and the idea of seeing a balloon ascension was certainly exciting… His last words, however, puzzled her. "How so, sir?" she asked. A pained expression crossed Sir Henry's face and he admitted ruefully, "I am to escort Captain Carter's young son, Wesley, also, since his father is obliged to be in the country on business for much of the week."

Ruth's eyes widened. "I was not aware that Captain Carter had a son!"

Her companion nodded sadly. "Yes - seven years' old. Unfortunately, his mother was a rather daring rider, and she died when Wesley was five. Broke her neck jumping a fence whilst hunting. Carter was devastated - he has never truly recovered from her loss."

Ruth raised a hand to cover her mouth, much shocked. "How awful!" she murmured. "Poor child…"

Sir Henry shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Indeed." Silence fell for a moment as Ruth absorbed this hitherto unknown information. Mrs Carter must have been brave to the point of recklessness, and her son and husband had suffered deeply as a consequence. And yet, Captain Carter had been all that was amiable on the few occasions she had met with him. Perhaps it required a person such as Sir Henry, then, whom Ruth understood to have known the captain for much of the latter's adult life, to notice such grief in him that was not visible to a casual observer such as herself.

At last, Sir Henry heaved a profound sigh and straightened his shoulders. "In any case, Carter named me the boy's godfather, so I am rather obliged to engage in such activities, but I fear I was not the wisest choice for such a position. I would appreciate your steadying influence, if you should find it agreeable to accompany us." His words, to Ruth's mind, were those of an man anxious in the company of children. His own were long-since grown, of course, but it was odd that he seemed so ill-at-ease with the idea of such an expedition. Had he never done such things with his son? Smilingly, Ruth explained, "My experience of small boys is long disused, and I have no knowledge whatsoever of ballooning, sir, but I should be glad to accompany you."

His shoulders almost sagged with relief, but he quickly recovered his composure. A light twinkled in his warm brown eyes, and he inquired teasingly, "Despite the lack of inducement offered by my company?"

"Not at all!" she exclaimed. "Your company has always been pleasant to me, sir." The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she realised the way in which they could be interpreted. A ruddy blush flooded her cheeks, and it was perhaps lucky that the door to the drawing room opened at that moment to reveal James. His face lit up at the sight of Ruth and he approached, with a cheerful, "Hello, aunt! Have Beth and Levendis already gone?" Ruth suppressed a smile - despite being a very loving sibling, James could sometimes be utterly careless and self-involved - and nodded. James shrugged his disappointment with almost comic grace. Ruth, however, sensing Sir Henry's gaze upon her nephew, added, "James, might I introduce you to Sir Henry Pearce? Sir Henry, my youngest nephew James."

The two men bowed to each other. After a moment's pause, James's face brightened. "I believe I am acquainted with your son, sir. Graham Pearce? We frequent the same club when in London, you see, and -"

His bright outburst was checked by the coldness that had taken up residence in Sir Henry's usually pleasant face. "Indeed? How providential…" He had become distracted, Ruth could tell, and it all seemed to be derived from James's last words. Abruptly he bowed to Miss Evershed.

"Forgive me, ma'am. I am obliged to be elsewhere - I have lingered here too long already. I shall call for you at twelve o'clock on Tuesday, if that is agreeable?"

Ruth barely had time to nod her assent, before he summoned a footman for his coat. Bowing again over Miss Evershed's hand, and inclining his head briefly in James's direction, he was gone. The door shut behind him with a snap and James exhaled loudly. "Well, what a disagreeable fellow! Just as his son speaks of him!"

Ruth frowned, strangely displeased by this judgement of the baronet's character and laid a cautionary hand on James's arm. "Sir Henry is not so abrupt as that as a rule, James. He has always shown me the utmost civility and amiability. His son may think of him in a certain way, but it is not your business to echo his sentiments." James shrugged his shoulders again, carelessly, and persisted, "But Graham has never a good word to speak of him, Aunt Ruth, and I must speak as I find."

Calmly, Ruth began her return to the drawing room. "As must I, James. And I find Sir Henry kind, well-informed and not at all deserving of your censure."

Finally, the day was over. Ruth collected her remaining belongings, and locked her bedroom door for the last time. Edward himself awaited her downstairs. She handed him the key, which he tucked somewhere about his person, and accepted the hand he held out to her. "Goodbye, Ruth," he said, and there seemed to be more warmth in his voice than she had ever heard there before.

Softly she smiled up at him. "Goodbye, Edward. I have left the household accounts in good order, and the menus for next week have all been discussed with Mrs Lane already."

He shook his head in wonderment. "Thank you." Ruth looked towards the door, but Edward was still holding her hand, a troubled look on his usually austere face. "I wish… I wish that you might call on me, should you have need of assistance in any way, Ruth," he added finally. Her eyes widened, unused as she was to any sort of kindness from her brother in law. "Of course, Edward," she replied with not a little awkwardness.

He nodded and released her hand slowly - only to lean down and kiss her suddenly on the mouth, arms wrapping around her tightly. Shocked and angry, Ruth wrenched herself out of his grasp. "How dare you?" she gasped. "How dare you treat me like this?"

Edward withdrew, also breathing heavily. "Ruth… Ruth, I love you. I have always loved you, even when I married Susannah, even when you were raising my children - "

Miss Evershed felt faint. She groped behind her for a chair and sat down heavily in it. Edward followed her, kneeling at her side. "Edward," she began steadily, "you must not say these things. There are few people in the world whom I trust and respect more, but I have never been in love with you. My sister deserves your loyalty in death, even if she never had your love in life."

He growled impatiently. "So you would rather become a governess, undervalued, reduced, than marry and be comfortable. I know I have given you little enough reason to be happy in this house, Ruth, but I care deeply for you. For your welfare and comfort." His face and voice were pleading, and Ruth couldn't help softening slightly as she rested a hand on his arm. His feelings appeared sincere, even if the mode of their expression had been a little uncouth.

"Thank you, Edward. I am very grateful, but you must understand that nothing of that sort can ever exist between us. Now, I should like to forget that this conversation ever happened."

She rose, detached the arm that he had somehow twined about her waist, picked up her last bandbox, and walked slowly to the door. On the threshold, she chanced to look back. Edward knelt where she had left him, one broad hand covering his face. "Goodbye, Edward," she repeated finally. He did not reply.

Miss Evershed walked outside into the early evening sunshine, her mood at utter odds with the weather. Surrendering her bandbox to one of Lady Radford's grooms, Ruth entered the carriage, and rested her head back against the cushions. Finally, her tears flowed freely, her body at last accepting the fact that it was thoroughly exhausted. Miss Evershed allowed the salty droplets to flow unhindered for several minutes before she came to her senses. She had several months of Lady Radford's wonderful company to look forward to, not to mention the prospect of continuing her acquaintance with Sir Henry, and the city would soon be exchanged for the country, which would provide an additional source of happiness to her. She was really being very foolish; many people had far worse problems than she, and far fewer opportunities for wallowing in self-pity. Sitting up straight, Miss Evershed wiped away her tears and fixed a determined smile upon her rather pale face. She would be happy if it killed her.

AN: Next time - life with Lady Radford, and high jinks at the balloon ascension...