“Optimism falls short of it. In truth, we all achieve something more than our deserts. It’s a quaint world.” She smiled and joined hands with him. “Give you joy, Robin.”
“Certainly, child.” He pressed her long fingers. “And you have it.”
“Yes, I have it.” She turned her head, for a large figure was coming towards them.
“Abundance of it,” Robin said wickedly.
But a week later, at Barham, on the terrace, my lord looked over the lawns to where four people were throwing bread to the carp in the marble pond and waved a satisfied hand. “I contrive!” he said.
My lady looked too at the pretty group. There was Prudence, blue-gowned, and stately, leaning on Sir Anthony’s arm and beside them Robin seemed to be endeavouring to prevent an eager, laughing Letitia from overbalancing into the pond. It was a charming picture and my lady’s bright eyes softened as she looked. “What, all of it, Robert?”
“All of it,” said my lord. “My plans are accomplished, I win — as ever. I have surpassed myself.”
“And when they are married — voilà, your labours are ended at last.”
My lord wrinkled his brow. “My Thérèse, you should know that I am a man of too powerful a character to fold my hands.” He looked meditative. “I have too large a vision to be so easily satisfied.”
“La — la! What now?” cried my lady in some alarm.