Epilogue

"It's very embarrassing to be associated with such an… irregularity," Derek said, shaking his head and tutting.

Lydia's brothers—and her mother, who had returned from Berkshire with Lucy—were sitting in the drawing room with Lydia and Philip. They had come to call on her, bringing news that Caroline had been sent away—though to where, no one really knew.

"I think it's very sad. Letitia's inconsolable, of course. But perhaps it's for the best. I don't think Caroline was particularly satisfied with Edward's… position," Lady Morton said, glancing at Lydia, who was lying on a chaise lounge by the window.

Lydia had made a full recovery from the poisoning, though Philip had insisted on her continuing to rest. Their departure for Berkshire was delayed until she regained her strength entirely.

"Because she can't realize her own ambitions," Graham said, shaking his head.

Their mother raised her eyebrows. "Well, yes—you know what your aunt's like."

The others nodded.

Lydia glanced at Philip and smiled. She was glad to be surrounded by her family, and her animosity towards her brothers—to Ezra, in particular—for forcing her to marry was gone. If anything, Lydia was grateful to them, for she had now discovered the true love she had always imagined was waiting for her.

Ezra turned to Philip. "And what about him? What's he going to do now?" he asked.

"You mean Edward? Well, I suppose there's not a lot he can do. He's made his decision, and that's that. It's a shame, of course. They seemed so… right for one another," Philip replied, glancing at Lydia, who smiled.

They had discussed the possibility of telling her family and Lucy the truth. But to do so would be to risk the emergence of a terrible scandal, one that would make Derek more than embarrassed, and the rest of the family the talk of the ton. No one knew the truth about what had happened, and with Caroline now having been sent away, Lydia felt certain the ordeal was over. She felt sorry for her cousin—despite the terrible things she had done—and was willing to forgive, if not forget.

"Well, appearances can be deceiving, I suppose. But one has to work on their marriage. Vows are only the beginning. A couple should live by those vows day by day—to love one another in hard times and good times. I wonder if Caroline and Edward really worked on their marriage," Derek mused.

Lydia smiled. Her brother knew nothing about marriage—not beyond its outward appearances. She, too, had been blind to its reality. But now that she was married, she had come to realize Derek was right—even though he had no real experience of what it meant to be.

"And when do you plan to marry, Brother?" she asked him.

Derek blushed. "I'm to be married to the Church first. I intend to take Holy Orders and then seek a bride," he said.

Lydia laughed. "Let's hope you find someone willing to accommodate your plans," she teased.

The others smiled, and even Derek did.

"Well, I'll say one thing—we're all very glad you're married, Lydia. It's quite the burden off our minds. Though I don't envy Philip in his task," he drawled.

Philip raised his eyebrows, and Lydia glared at Derek, even though she knew he was being facetious—partly so, at least.

"I'm a burden, am I?" she uttered.

Derek smiled. "Well… perhaps not. But we are glad you're married," he said, and both Ezra and Graham nodded.

"And glad to see her fully recovered from her illness, too. Did the doctor ever discover the cause?" Lady Morton asked.

Lydia shook her head. The doctor knew, of course, but they had sworn him to secrecy, and she had given only the vaguest suggestion of what had caused it.

"No… he just suggested…" she began to explain, but her mother interrupted her, a look of delight coming over her face.

"The sickness… oh, Lydia, how happy I am!" Lady Morton gushed, rising to her feet and clapping her hands together in delight.

For a moment, Lydia was confused—as were her brothers, who looked at one another in confusion. Philip blushed, shaking his head, even though her mother continued to squeal in delight.

"Mother…" Lydia tried, but her mother interrupted her again.

"I did wonder. We both did—Lucy and I. I said to her it was certainly a possibility. I'm so happy for you both!"

Lydia now realized what her mother meant. She shook her head, even though the relayed facts fit the hypothesis.

"No, Mother. It's not that. I'm not with child," she said.

Her brothers blushed.

"Really, Mother, such a thing to say," Derek huffed.

But their mother merely shook her head, a disappointed look on her face. "It's perfectly natural, Derek. Children have to come from somewhere. Well, what a pity. But perhaps it won't be too long before your sickness returns," she said, sitting back down.

The conversation turned to other topics, and the matter of Lydia's sickness was forgotten. Her mother and brothers remained at the house for another hour or so, before promising to visit the next day and leaving. And with old Lady Walford invited to the theater that evening with Lady Morton, Lydia and Philip were left alone.

"Your mother and brothers are very easy to entertain, aren't they?" Philip said after they had gone.

Lydia smiled. "Oh, yes. One merely has to listen and nod, once the conversation gets going. Especially where my mother's concerned."

Philip smiled and shook his head. "I think it's for the best they don't know the truth, though. Don't you think?"

Lydia nodded.

There was no reason for them to know, and she would rather forget the past and look to the future. Caroline was gone, and Edward had received his punishment, too—forever to be the second and never the first.

"Absolutely, yes. I don't want anyone to know—not ever," she affirmed.

"And how amusing to think your mother assumed you were with child," Philip drawled.

It had been somewhat amusing, but there had also been a seriousness to it. Lydia recalled their conversation beneath the weeping willow, and how the question of children had never been raised. But things were different now—the way they felt for one another, the things they had shared, and the possibilities that lay ahead.

Had Lydia had a choice of whom to marry, she would have chosen Philip. It was a remarkable change, but perhaps not so surprising, given everything they had been through together.

"I suppose it was a reasonable mistake to make…" Lydia trailed off.

Philip smiled at her. He had been sitting by the hearth, but now he came over to her, kneeling at her side and taking her hand in his.

"Lydia, I… Fo you remember the conversation we had about children?" he asked

Lydia nodded. She remembered how she had felt—torn between a sense of duty and not wanting to bring a child into a loveless marriage. So much had changed since then. It was no longer a loveless marriage—quite the opposite.

"How could I forget it," she murmured.

Philip blushed. "Well… I've thought about it a great deal. It's been on my mind, you see," he admitted. "I… well, I hope the idea of us having children isn't one you find… unpleasant."

Lydia shook her head, squeezing his hand as she spoke. "Not at all, no. Things have changed, haven't they? Between us, I mean. I feel… well, I told you how I feel, and you said the same. I've fallen in love with you, Philip. Perhaps I already loved you—I don't know. The past doesn't matter. What matters is what's to come. I want us to be happy together, and I know we will be because we've overcome so much together already."

Philip smiled. "How happy it makes me to hear you say that. I feared I'd make you terribly unhappy—that you'd remain with me out of duty, not desire. But now… I can't imagine anything but this. I love you, too. And I don't know how it happened, or when it happened, but I know I do—that's all," he said, and leaning up, he kissed her.

As their lips parted, he rested his forehead against hers, each of them delighting in the happiness they now shared.

The thought of having children, of spending the rest of their lives together, of all they would do and experience, filled Lydia with indescribable joy. She thought back to the day of Caroline's wedding, and how she had been afraid of the thought of encountering Philip again. But that fear had turned to joy—via a long, winding path.

There had been no need to fear the past or to think Philip had not changed. He had changed, just as Lydia, too, had changed, and they would go on changing, growing ever more into the love they shared.

To live was to change, and Lydia looked forward to everything life would bring them.

The End