Epilogue

February 1819

‘I f music be the food of love, play on...'

Hope settled into her seat as the curtain went up, the many candles which illuminated the stage casting their bright glow over the darkened theatre. From her position in the box at Lowhaven's Theatre Royal she could see Duke Orsino strutting around, musing about his unrequited love for Countess Olivia. Next to her, Samuel reached out and took hold of her hand, giving it a tender squeeze. The irony of them enjoying a performance of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night together was not lost on him either. Indeed, he'd flashed her one of his amused smiles when he'd told her that the play was coming to town just after Christmas, pulling her close to him as he'd informed her that he planned to reserve seats.

‘People in disguise, falling in love,' he'd remarked, kissing the top of her head. ‘The Bard could have written that one for us, couldn't he? We must go and see it.'

Hope had laughed at that, reminding him that they went to see virtually everything that Lowhaven's theatre had to offer, a habit which would doubtless become fixed now that they had settled into their own home on the edge of town. They'd moved at the beginning of the new year, after spending the Christmas season at Hayton Hall with Isaac and Louisa. Hayton's real baronet had returned from Scotland with his wife in November, their travels brought finally to an end by the worsening weather and Louisa's delicate health.

The brooding older brother had been stunned to discover that in his absence his younger sibling had not only fallen in love, but had wed. Hope had observed Isaac's astonished expression as Samuel recounted the extraordinary tale, from their first meeting to their marriage in a private ceremony by common licence in Hayton's ancient, humble church, witnessed only by the Gordons.

The return of Sir Isaac Liddell had thrown Hope into turmoil, and her old fears about her base-born status and dubious past had briefly resurfaced. As Samuel's older brother and the head of his family had regarded her carefully during their introduction, she'd found herself fretting, convinced that he'd be horrified about their union. As it turned out, she need not have worried. Despite his serious demeanour and brusque manner, Isaac was a kind soul who'd welcomed her into the family without hesitation. When he'd learned about her lowly origins and her life on stage, he had not even flinched. Instead, he'd seemed to perceive her discomfort and had done his utmost to assuage it.

‘You're a veritable woman of the world, Hope,' he'd remarked kindly, regarding Samuel with affection in his keen blue eyes. ‘And therefore perfect for my brother, since he has seen so much of it.'

Recalling the memory, Hope smiled. Isaac and Louisa had joined them at the theatre this evening, although they planned to return to Hayton in their carriage as soon as the final curtain fell. Another thing Hope had quickly come to understand was just how besotted Hayton's baronet was with his lovely wife, and just how protective—even more so since they'd discovered that the fatigue and sickness which had been troubling Louisa did in fact have an altogether happy cause.

Hope glanced at Louisa. Even in the dim light she could make out the serene expression on her face, one hand resting firmly on her swollen belly as she watched the play. The baby's arrival was expected in the early summer. God willing, Hayton Hall would have an heir, and the Liddell brothers would greet the next generation of their family.

Although, Hope increasingly suspected, the child would not be the sole member of that generation for very long—not if her own morning queasiness and absent courses were anything to go by. It was a suspicion she'd not yet shared with Samuel, but with each passing day she felt more sure of it, more excited, and more anxious. Tonight, she was bursting to tell him the happy news, especially since it had already been a day for it. Earlier that day she'd received a letter from Henrietta Gordon, telling her that she was no longer Miss Gordon at all. Last autumn Mr Gordon and his sister had departed from Hayton on a mission to reunite Miss Gordon with her lost love. It was a mission which had taken them to the burgeoning mills of Manchester to find the man in question, and a mission which had ultimately succeeded.

Moved by the depth of their daughter's misery and their desperation to cure her of it, the Gordon parents had finally accepted the match. A wedding had followed, and the newlyweds had now settled back in Blackburn, where the new Mrs Smith was, in her own words, blissfully happy. Her husband, she wrote, had secured a job alongside her father, and although it was early days, he was proving himself extremely capable in all that he did.

Hope had studied the letter several times, shaking her head in disbelief at such an incredible tale, committed to paper in the hurried hand of a woman who was clearly delirious with joy at the surprising turn her life had taken. It was a feeling which Hope recognised immediately, since it was one she knew only too well.

‘If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction...'

Hope smiled at the familiar famous line in the Bard's play, a line which could just as easily apply to her own life of late as it did to a story written more than two centuries ago. A year ago she'd been a travelling actress, on the run from a terrible past. Now, here she was, sitting in one of the best seats in the theatre, married to the most wonderful man and probably expecting his child. Improbable—indeed, it was improbable. So improbable that sometimes she had to pinch herself to be certain she was not dreaming.

Perhaps Samuel was right. Twelfth Night could have been written for them.

On stage, disguises were dispensed with as, at last, all was revealed. In the faint candlelight Samuel's gaze caught her own and held it, even as all around them the crowd grew noisier, chuckling and murmuring in excitable anticipation. They were, for a moment, in their own little world, one of mutual affection and shared understanding. One which, Hope considered, was worthy of one last revelation of her own. Gently, she lifted Samuel's hand, bringing it to rest upon her stomach, and nodded slowly. She watched as those blue-grey eyes of his widened, and his mouth fell open in surprise.

Then he leapt to his feet, pulled her into his arms and embraced her as the final curtain fell to rapturous applause.