Epilogue

F ive years had passed since Iris Rosier and Horatio Ainsworth were married and danced beneath the rose-covered bower at Rosewood Manor. The passage of time had only served to deepen their love.

On a crisp autumn morning, Iris stood before the looking glass in her bedchamber at Thornbrook Manor, Lucy adjusting the fall of her traveling cloak. Once solely dedicated to coaxing melodies from ivory keys, her fingers now moved with the practiced ease of a woman accustomed to other loftier matters, such as making presents for children at an orphanage.

"Are you certain we've packed everything, My Lady?" Lucy asked, her voice tinged with a mix of concern and excitement. "The journey to London is not insignificant."

Iris turned, a warm smile gracing her features. "I believe so, Lucy. Though I daresay if we've forgotten anything, we shall simply have to make do. The orphans at St. Bartholomew's have waited long enough. "

As if summoned by her words, a force of nature burst into the room in the form of young Master Edward Ainsworth, his dark curls bouncing with each enthusiastic step. At four years of age, he was the very image of his father, from his stormy grey eyes to his dark hair.

"Mama!" Edward cried, flinging himself into Iris's arms. "Papa says we're to leave within the hour. May I bring my new picture book? The one with the ships?"

Iris laughed, pressing a kiss to her son's forehead. "Of course, my darling. But remember, we must leave room in the carriage for your father's violin and my sheet music."

Edward nodded solemnly, his little face a study in concentration. "Yes, Mama. Music is important. It makes people happy."

A lump formed in Iris's throat at her son's words. How proud she was of him, already understanding the power of music to heal and uplift. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens for blessing her with such a perceptive child.

"Indeed it does, my love," she murmured, smoothing his unruly curls. "Now, run along and find your book. We'll be departing soon."

As Edward scampered off, Iris caught sight of Horatio leaning against the doorframe, a tender smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I see our son has inherited your penchant for grand entrances," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Iris raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I believe, my dear, that you'll find it was your dramatic flair he's inherited. Or have you forgotten your impromptu serenade at Lady Ashworth's garden party last season?"

Horatio chuckled, crossing the room to gather Iris in his arms. "How could I forget? I believe I scandalized half the Ton and delighted the other half in equal measure. "

Iris leaned into his embrace, reveling in the familiar warmth of his body against hers. Even after five years of marriage, the simple act of being held by Horatio never failed to set her heart aflutter.

"Are you ready, my love?" Horatio asked, his breath warm against her ear.

Iris nodded, her excitement palpable. "More than ready. Though I confess, I'm a bit nervous about our St. James's Hall performance. It's been some time since we've played for such a large audience."

Horatio pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cup Iris's face. "My darling, you could play for kings or paupers, and your music would touch their souls all the same. Besides," he added with a roguish grin, "I have it on good authority that the Duchess of Pembroke has already purchased an entire box for the evening. I believe she's eager to see if we can still create the same stir we did at her ball all those years ago."

Iris laughed, the sound bright and clear in the quiet of the bedchamber. "Well, we shall simply have to rise to the occasion, shan't we?"

As they made their way downstairs, Iris couldn't help but marvel at how far they had come. From clandestine meetings in the music room of Thornbrook Manor to giving charity concerts in London's grandest halls, their journey had been one of love, music, and an ever-growing desire to share their gifts with those less fortunate.

The entrance hall of Thornbrook Manor was a hive of activity, with footmen bustling about, loading trunks onto the waiting carriage. Amidst the chaos, Iris spotted a familiar figure supervising the proceedings with a keen eye.

"Mama!" Iris called out, her face lighting up at the sight of Lady Rosier. "I had no idea you were coming to see us off."

Lady Rosier turned, a warm smile softening her usually stern features. "My dear girl," she said, embracing Iris fondly. "Did you truly think I would allow my daughter and grandson to leave without a proper farewell?"

Horatio stepped forward, bowing slightly to his mother-in-law. "Lady Rosier, your presence is always a delight. I trust Lord Rosier is well?"

"As well as can be expected for a man faced with the prospect of a quiet house for the next fortnight," Lady Rosier replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I daresay he will retire to his study for some time until your return. However, he shall be here presently to bid you farewell."

A carriage arrived then, and Lord Rosier emerged from it as if summoned by his wife's words, his face breaking into a wide smile at the sight of his grandson. "Ah, there's my little sailor!" he exclaimed, scooping Edward into his arms. "And how are you faring this morning, young man?"

Edward beamed up at his grandfather, his grey eyes shining with excitement. "We're going on an adventure, Grandpapa! To London! And Papa says we might even see the Thames!"

Lord Rosier chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately. "Indeed you shall, my boy. And I expect a full report upon your return, hmm?"

As Edward launched into an enthusiastic description of all the sights he hoped to see, Iris felt a gentle touch on her arm. She turned to find her mother regarding her with an expression of mingled pride and concern.

"Iris, my dear," Lady Rosier began, her voice low. "You are happy, are you not?"

Iris smiled, taking her mother's hands in her own. "Immensely so. "

Lady Rosier's expression softened, and Iris saw a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. "You always did have a generous heart, my girl. I shouldn't be surprised you've found a way to combine your passion for music with your desire to help others."

Iris felt a lump form in her throat at the sound of her mother's words. She embraced Lady Rosier tightly, whispering, "Thank you, Mama. Your understanding means more to me than you know."

Before Lady Rosier could respond, a commotion at the front door drew their attention. Maude Hartley, née Rosier, swept into the entrance hall, her four-year-old daughter, Charlotte, clinging to her skirts.

"Iris!" Maude cried, embracing her sister warmly. "Thank heavens we haven't missed you. Charlotte was quite beside herself at the thought of not saying goodbye to her dearest cousin."

As if on cue, Charlotte broke free from her mother's side and raced towards Edward, who had wriggled out of his grandfather's arms at the sight of his cousin. The two children collided as they laughed; their joy was infectious.

"Eddie!" Charlotte exclaimed, using the pet name she had bestowed upon her cousin. "You simply must tell me everything you see in London. Promise you'll remember it all!"

Edward nodded solemnly, his expression one of utmost seriousness. "I promise, Lottie. And when we return, we shall act out all our adventures in the garden, just as we always do."

Iris felt her heart swell with love as she watched the two children; their bond was a testament to the closeness she and Maude had always shared. She turned to her sister, a question forming on her lips, but Maude anticipated her words.

"Ralph sends his apologies," Maude said, referring to her husband. "He was called away on urgent business in Bath, but he wished me to convey his best wishes for your journey and your performances."

Horatio joined them, gently touching the small of Iris's back. "Ralph's support means a great deal to us, Maude. We're grateful for the connections he's helped us forge with the various charitable organizations in London."

Maude beamed, her pride in her husband evident. "Ralph has always believed in philanthropy. He often says that your concerts have done so much to raise awareness for the plight of orphans and the less fortunate."

As the adults continued their conversation, Iris's gaze drifted back to Edward and Charlotte, who had settled into a corner with Edward's beloved picture book. She watched as her son pointed out various ships to his enraptured cousin, his small face alight with enthusiasm.

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Simmons, Thornbrook Manor's butler, who announced that the carriage was fully loaded and ready for departure. Final farewells were exchanged, and last-minute items were tucked into bags.

As Iris prepared to enter the carriage, she felt a small hand tugging at her skirts. She looked down to find Charlotte gazing up at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Auntie Iris," the little girl said, her voice barely above a whisper, "might I ask a favor?"

Iris knelt down, bringing herself to eye level with her niece. "Of course, my darling. What is it?"

Charlotte fidgeted with the ribbon on her dress, a habit she had inherited from her mother. "When you return... would you teach me to play the pianoforte? Like you've been teaching Eddie? "

Iris felt a rush of emotion at the child's request. She glanced up at Maude, who nodded encouragingly. "My dear Charlotte," Iris said, cupping the girl's face gently, "nothing would give me greater joy. We shall start your lessons the very day we return from London."

Charlotte's face lit up with delight, and she threw her arms around Iris's neck in an exuberant embrace. "Oh, thank you, Auntie! I shall practice every day, I promise!"

With final hugs exchanged and promises to write often, Iris and Horatio settled into the carriage with Edward between them. As the horses began to move, pulling them away from Thornbrook Manor, Iris leaned out the window, waving to their assembled family.

"Goodbye!" Edward called out, his small voice carrying on the autumn breeze. "We'll bring back lots of stories!"

As the familiar landscape of their home gave way to the winding country roads that would lead them to London, Iris settled back into her seat, her hand finding Horatio's. Their fingers intertwined, a gesture as natural as breathing.

Soon, the carriage rattled over the cobblestones of London's East End, a stark contrast to the smooth country lanes Iris had grown accustomed to over the past years. She peered out the window, taking in the narrow streets and cramped buildings so different from Surrey's rolling hills and sprawling estates.

A small foot kicked the back of Horatio's seat as if to punctuate her thoughts. Their four-year-old son, Edward, giggled mischievously from his perch opposite them.

"Papa, are we there yet?" Edward demanded, his dark curls bouncing as he fidgeted in his seat. "You said we'd play music for the children today!"

Horatio chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his son's hair. "Patience, my boy. We're nearly there. Remember what we discussed about patience?"

Edward's little face scrunched up in concentration. "It's a... vir-tue," he said carefully, sounding out the unfamiliar word.

"Very good," Horatio said, his eyes twinkling with pride. "And do you remember what a virtue is?"

Edward's face lit up at his father's praise. "It's something good that we should try to have!"

Horatio leaned forward, smiling at his son affectionately. "Excellent, Eddie. You've been paying attention to your lessons."

Iris marveled at the bond between father and son. From the moment Edward had been placed in Horatio's arms, still red-faced and squalling, there had been an undeniable connection. Now, at four years old, Edward was his father's shadow, forever trailing after him with a toy violin tucked under his arm.

The carriage lurched to a stop before a dilapidated building, its windows grimy and its facade crumbling. A faded sign proclaimed it to be "St. Bartholomew's Home for Orphaned Children."

As they alighted from the carriage, Iris smoothed her simple muslin gown, explicitly chosen for its practicality rather than fashion. Horatio, too, had forgone his usual finery in favor of a plain coat and breeches.

Edward tugged impatiently at his father's hand. "Come on, Papa! The children are waiting!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the orphanage doors burst open, spilling forth a crowd of eager faces. Children of all ages, dressed in threadbare clothes, swarmed around them, their eyes wide with excitement .

"It's them!" a small girl with pigtails cried out. "It's really them! The music lady and gentleman!"

Iris felt her heart swell with emotion as she took in the sea of hopeful faces. She thought this was why they had started this five years ago. To bring a glimmer of joy to those who had so little.

Horatio knelt down, bringing himself to eye level with the children. "Hello, children," he said warmly.

A chorus of enthusiastic cheers answered him. Edward, not to be outdone, piped up, "I can play too! Papa's been teaching me!"

A ripple of laughter went through the crowd, and Iris watched as her son puffed up with pride. He may have been born into privilege, but moments like these reminded her that they were raising him to understand the value of compassion and giving back.

As Horatio began to unpack their instruments—a portable pianoforte for Iris, his beloved violin, and a small fiddle for Edward—the matron of the orphanage approached. Mrs. Higgins was a stout woman with a careworn face, but her eyes sparkled with genuine warmth.

"Lord and Lady Thornbrook," she greeted them, bobbing a curtsy. "You've no idea what your visits mean to the children. They talk of nothing else for weeks after you've gone."

Iris clasped the woman's hand. "It's our pleasure, Mrs. Higgins. These children... they give us far more than we could ever give them."

As they set up their makeshift stage in the orphanage's small courtyard, Iris couldn't help but reflect on the journey that had brought them here. From the grand ballrooms of Surrey to the humble streets of the East End, their lives had taken a turn she could never have imagined in her youth.

Horatio caught her eye, a knowing smile on his face. "Woolgathering, my love?"

Iris shook her head, returning his smile. "Just marveling at how far we've come."

Their moment was interrupted by Edward, who had managed to climb atop a wooden crate, his tiny fiddle clutched in his hands. "I want to play first!" he declared, drawing giggles from the assembled children.

Horatio raised an eyebrow at his son's boldness. "And what shall you play for us, young master?"

Edward's face scrunched up in concentration. "The one about the sailor and the mermaid!"

A collective gasp went up from the orphans. It was a favorite tune Horatio had composed specifically for their visits. Iris watched with pride as her husband guided Edward through the opening notes, his large hands dwarfing their son's as he helped him position the bow.

As the first strains of music filled the air, Iris saw the change come over the gathered children. Eyes that had been dull with hunger and hardship now shone with wonder. Feet that had trudged wearily through London's dirty streets now tapped in time with the melody.

Iris's fingers found the keys of the pianoforte, joining in with a gentle accompaniment. The music swelled, Horatio's violin weaving a counterpoint to Edward's somewhat wobbly but enthusiastic playing.

A small hand tugged at Iris's skirt. She looked down to see a little girl, no more than three, gazing up at her with wide eyes. "Can I try?" she asked, pointing shyly at the pianoforte.

Without hesitation, Iris scooped her up and settled her on her lap. "Of course, darling. Here, let me show you."

As she guided the child's tiny fingers over the keys, Iris caught Horatio's eye over the top of his violin. The look that passed between them was one of perfect understanding. This was why they had chosen this path, not for acclaim or riches but for moments like these .

Later, Horatio led the children in a merry jig, his usually dignified demeanor replaced by a boyish grin as he twirled and leaped. Edward, determined to keep up with his father, nearly tripped over his own feet in his enthusiasm.

"Well, my dears," the matron announced, interrupting the jig as she addressed both the family and the assembled orphans. It's time for supper. That is if you're all amenable."

The resulting cheer was deafening. As the children raced inside, chattering excitedly about sharing their meal with real nobility, Iris turned to her husband with a questioning look.

"Horatio," she began, but he silenced her with a gentle kiss.

"Iris, my love," he said softly. "I couldn't bear the thought of leaving them. So..." he paused, a hint of mischief in his eyes, "I may have made some arrangements for more permanent assistance to St. Bartholomew's."

Iris felt her heart swell with love for this man, who had once been London's most notorious rake and now devoted his life to bringing joy to those less fortunate. "What would I do without you?" she murmured, leaning into his embrace.

Hand in hand, with Edward chattering away between them, they stepped into the warmth of the orphanage. Here, at this moment, surrounded by the laughter of children and the love of her family, Iris Ainsworth was perfectly, blissfully content.

For love was all that mattered… and their love was true.