Epilogue

S ome months later…

A servant placed a cut crystal dessert bowl containing something chocolate in front of Mary, Daniel, and each of their guests. Mary slid a spoonful of it into her mouth, closing her eyes when a flood of sweet, bitter creaminess melted on her tongue. For their stay in London, they’d hired a temporary French cook, and he surprised her every day.

“What is this, sister?” Charlotte asked.

“Heaven,” Mary said. “The chef calls it mousse au chocolat .”

Conversation, hitherto enthusiastic, slowed as the party finished their dinner. Mary used the silence to breathe away some of her tension and to calm the swell that rose in her chest and pricked her eyes, ever too sentimental. She reached for her glass of wine, brushing Daniel’s arm and catching his eye as she drew the glass to her lips. Daniel’s arm circled the back of her chair, and his hand came to squeeze her shoulder.

“It’s been a day,” he whispered. “We can retire, you know.”

She shook her head and smiled up at him. It had been the best day. Unbeknownst to her, Daniel, at the behest of Mr. Porter, had helped plan a lecture in celebration of her latest book, with Lady Mary as principal speaker. Daniel gave her just enough notice that she could cancel, an action she strongly considered. But, just as with the literary society, curiosity won. Mary found herself in a London salon with three-hundred-seventy-two people, thanks in part to Agnes, who dragged in everyone she knew.

It had been wonderful and terrifying to stand in front of all those people, to speak openly about her work, her process, her inspiration. Though she’d anticipated the event with much foreboding, it left her overflowing with love and gratitude, not least for her dear husband.

Best of all, almost everyone she loved traveled to London for the occasion. Mary’s brother and sister, Stephen and Charlotte were there, along with Sophia, Philip, and Agnes, who had seen fit to bring her husband. Only Daniel’s family was absent on account of the recent passing of his father.

“Mary,” Agnes asked. “What do you hear from Louisa?”

“That Lady Halverson is buying her three dresses a week.”

“A fortunate turn of events,” Sophia, Mary’s niece, said. “One could not hope for a better employer.”

Sophia did not know the half of it. So far, they were safe from gossip, but should any rumors surface regarding Louisa’s infamous attempt at an elopement, there would be trouble.

“I wish she were here,” Mary said.

“Yes, I should have liked her to see you in your element, taking credit for your work.” Daniel slid his fingers through hers, and in predictable fashion, his touch sent a flood of comfort and belonging, this time so intense that she had to look into her lap.

“You must be very tired after speaking so much today,” Charlotte said.

“Yes, but the joy of your company exceeds my fatigue. Thank you all for coming, for visiting, even when London is so far from your homes.”

Agnes licked her spoon. “You are too weary to entertain all night. We will leave you.”

Mary rose, signaling the end of dinner. Instead of men and women separating, the whole party went to the drawing room.

“Goodnight, then, Daniel, Lady Mary.” Agnes kissed Mary on the cheek and dragged her husband toward the door where they waited for the others, all of whom were staying together in the Eliots’ London house.

“The world knows your name. All is as it ought.” Charlotte hugged Mary.

Mary and Daniel bid goodbye to Philip and Sophia, making plans for them all to reunite on the morrow to enjoy the sights of London.

The door clicked shut, and Mary felt Daniel at her back, his arms curling around her. She twisted to face him.

“Oh, my love!” she said. “Do you know this day could have been very different?”

“How so?”

“If Louisa had never tried to get to Gretna Green, we may never have made it there ourselves. Mr. Porter would have persuaded me to do the lecture, surrounded me with admirers, and then I’d have enjoyed a family dinner. They all would have left me to crawl up to my room and sleep alone.” She reached for his face, resting her hands on his cheeks. “But I have you, the best and sweetest part of my life. You have no idea what your love means to me.”

“I think I do.” He bent and kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and then swooped her off her feet to carry her to the bed they shared.

T he following morning, Daniel broke into the room and pulled open the curtains. Judging from the sharp sunlight, Mary had slept in, a well-deserved indulgence.

“Mary! Here is a letter from Emma.” “What is it, my darling?” She cleared the morning coarseness from her throat. “Read it to me.”

“I must beg you read it to me, for I scarce understand what she is saying.”

His parents had been understandably upset with the couple’s unnecessary trip to Gretna Green. The newlyweds could not explain the decision, beyond the sheer adventure of it. All came to rights after Mary and Daniel gifted them enough money to refurbish part of the castle’s ground floor for living quarters. Mary and Daniel planned to spend a fortnight at the castle, during which time many conversations began with Mrs. Fletcher saying something like, “You may never have children, but you are a most interesting daughter-in-law.” Ten days into their stay, Mr. Fletcher passed away, with amicable feelings between father and son, though he did not alter the will, and Almery belonged to Emma and Andrew.

Mary held out her hand for the letter and read:

Dear Brother,

The vicar and I agree that this castle is wretched. We’ve already abandoned it for the grange and are meeting with the solicitor tomorrow so that by the time you receive this letter, it shall be yours as it always ought. You are the only person who could love this pile of rubble. Mother remains with us, and we could not be more pleased with the arrangement. Call on us when you return home.

With love,

Emma

“Darling, all has come to rights.” Mary sprang from the bed into Daniel’s arms. She pressed her body against his, listening to his heart thunder and the unsteady breath that came with surprise. His arms wrapped around her, thrilling her, supporting her, bringing her home. She pushed him away and took both his hands in hers. “This occasion calls for a dance.”

He agreed with a smile and bowed. She curtsied, and together, they skipped and danced until a shower of kisses led them to collapse, laughing, onto the bed.

They left London directly, returning to a vacant castle, a perfectly enchanting location for Mary to create stories, and for Daniel to realize his long fought for aspiration. They each threw themselves into their work, coming together throughout the day and at night with encouragement and laughter.