By noon, the atmosphere had shifted from survival to administration. With the internet restored, they could file the preliminary birth registrations online.
Malcolm sat at the desk, his hand trembling as he typed.
“Are you sure about the name, Mal?” William asked quietly. “It carries a lot of weight.”
“Alistair,” Malcolm said, his voice thick with emotion. “Alistair II. Not for the monster he was, but for the man he tried to be at the end. We reclaim the name. We make it good.”
Isabella nodded from the sofa, nursing Arthur. “And Arthur. For the strength of the bear.”
Lady Beatrice stood by the window, rocking Hope. She looked younger than she had in years. The harsh lines of the ‘Dowager’ had softened.
“Do you feel it?” Beatrice asked, looking at the three infants filling the room with soft sounds.
“Feel what?” Victoria asked.
” The ghosts,” Beatrice said. “They’re gone. For forty years, this house echoed with silence and secrets. Now… it just sounds like a nursery.”
She looked down at Hope. “You broke the curse, little one. You and your mother.”