Epilogue

L ottie stood in the wings of Rhodes Theatre, her pulse racing with excitement and nervousness. It was the opening night of the play she and Thatcher had worked so tirelessly on, and the culmination of their transformation from reluctant collaborators to lovers. The theatre buzzed with anticipation as the audience settled into their seats, the murmurs and rustling of silk gowns filling the air. Lottie’s gaze wandered to the elegant boxes where her family was seated, their proud smiles reassuring her. Her sister-in-law Sadie gave her an encouraging nod.

Thatcher stood beside her, his hand finding hers as they exchanged a glance filled with shared hopes and dreams. He wore a finely tailored suit, a far cry from the shabby attire of his struggling artist days, she knew, and his smoky eyes sparkled with warmth and adoration.

“It’s going to be amazing,” Lottie whispered to him, her voice filled with conviction.

Thatcher flashed her a grateful smile, tightening his fingers around hers. “Only with you by my side, my love.”

As the theatre lights dimmed and the curtains began to rise, Lottie’s heart raced. The play unfolded before them, brought to life by the talented cast who had poured their hearts into the production. Each line, each scene, exemplified the collaborative genius of Lottie and Thatcher. The story, a clash of beliefs and a struggle for personal freedom, resonated with the audience. Laughter, gasps, and tears punctuated the performance, evidence of the emotional impact the play had on its viewers.

As the final act approached, Lottie watched from the wings, her hands tightly entwined with Thatcher’s. They had been through so much together, from creative clashes to personal revelations, and now they were about to share the culmination of their efforts with a captivated audience. It was a dream come true. No, more than that. It was everything.

When the last line was delivered, and the actors took their final bow, the theatre erupted into thunderous applause. The curtain call seemed to stretch on forever, the audience showing their appreciation for the remarkable production.

Thatcher stepped onto the stage, his gaze meeting hers with a shared sense of accomplishment. Then, as if in a dream, King William IV himself rose from his seat, clapping slowly.

Thatcher, taking a deep breath, moved forward. He was greeted with more applause as he approached the King. When he reached the front of the stage, he turned to face the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, Your Gracious Majesty,” he began, “I am deeply honored by your presence here tonight. But I must take a moment to give credit where credit is due. This play tonight is the result of an artistic collaboration, and I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the true genius behind it.” He turned and extended a hand toward the wings, where Lottie had been waiting in the shadows. “Come on out and let them see you.”

Lottie hesitated, then stepped into the spotlight, her heart pounding as she faced the audience from the stage.

Thatcher’s voice held a tenderness that resonated through the theatre. “Allow me to introduce Lady Lottie, not only a brilliant creator but truly England’s finest playwright. Her talents are unparalleled, and her contribution to this play is immeasurable.”

For a moment, the theatre fell silent. Then, slowly, King William began clapping again, and the rest of the crowd joined in. The applause swelled, and the entire theatre seemed to vibrate with the force of their celebration.

Lottie stepped forward to stand beside Thatcher, her eyes shining with emotion. He took her hand in his and declared, “Together, we have achieved something extraordinary, and I am not only proud of our play but of the remarkable woman who co-created it with me. Lady Lottie, the love of my life.”

The ovation continued, and Lottie tossed Thatcher a triumphant and affectionate gaze. The love that had grown between them during their collaboration was now on display for all to see, and it felt wonderful. They had not only created a successful play but had discovered love for each other, and to her, that was the greatest success of all.

As the applause continued, King William leaned forward. “Lady Lottie, please come forward.”

With Thatcher’s encouragement, she took hesitant steps upstage, feeling the warmth of the spotlight on her face and the gaze of hundreds fixed upon her.

King William cleared his throat. “Lady Lottie, you are a marvel, much like my beloved Dotti in her heyday. The creativity and genius you have shared with us tonight will be celebrated and remembered for generations to come. You have brought new life to the theatre, and I am deeply impressed.”

The king’s words filled her with a profound sense of accomplishment and honor. To be compared to his beloved Dotti, a celebrated actress and theatre star, was a compliment of the highest order. The theatre’s cheers, coupled with the king’s admiration, created a moment she would forever cherish.

As the standing ovation continued, Lottie glanced at Thatcher. The two of them had achieved something remarkable. Their future seemed brimming with endless possibilities.

Like the blank page of a new journal, just waiting to be filled.

Only better.

*

After the curtain fell for the final time, Lottie and Thatcher made their way to the theatre’s reception area, where their family and friends awaited. The air was filled with excitement and chatter as the cast and crew celebrated their success.

Lottie’s brother, Crawford, and her sister-in-law, Sadie, approached with warm smiles. “That was extraordinary,” Crawford said, his eyes filled with pride. “The king was thoroughly entertained.”

As the royal party joined the reception, King William IV himself approached Lottie and Thatcher. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he said, “My dear Lady Lottie and Mr. Goodrich, your play was a true delight. I haven’t been so thoroughly entertained in years.”

Thatcher and Lottie exchanged a glance, their hearts pounding. “Your Majesty, we are truly honored by your kind words,” Lottie replied.

“Well done, my dear.” He beamed like a proud father. Then the king’s eyes shifted to Thatcher. “And Mr. Goodrich, you have again proven yourself a remarkable playwright. I look forward to seeing more of your work in the future.”

Thatcher bowed deeply. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I am humbled by your praise.”

As the night wore on, and the revelry continued, Lottie stole a moment alone with Thatcher. They found a quiet corner of the theatre, away from the prying eyes of the guests.

“I can’t believe we did it,” Lottie whispered. “Our play is a success.”

Thatcher brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “And it’s only the beginning, my love. There are many more stories we will write together.”

Lottie leaned in, her lips meeting his in a sweet, lingering kiss. Love and creativity had triumphed, and she was ready to face whatever the future held, hand in hand with Thatcher.

She smiled as their lips parted. “I couldn’t have asked for a better partner, both on and off the stage.”

Thatcher’s eyes sparkled with affection. “Nor could I. You are my muse, my inspiration, and the love of my life.”

“Write that down in case you ever forget.”

“Oh, honey, this I’ll never forget. I couldn’t.”

“Why is that?” Lottie asked, her breath hitching.

“Because your love is written on my soul.”

Oh, that was good.

Very, very good.

The End