Epilogue

Lancashire, England, 1816 – six months later

"That's it, my Lady – all ready," Helen said, standing back, as Anne rose to her feet.

It was the day of her wedding, and Anne had spent the night at Burnley Abbey, for she and William were to be married at the church on the estate, in the graveyard of which was buried William's father, the former duke. It was six months after William's proposal, and a great deal had changed for them both.

William was now a man of business, working in a firm of brokers in the city. He had swiftly proved his worth, and the couple were to divide their time between the city and the countryside. Podmore Grange – the ancestral seat of the Mowbray family – was to be theirs, and the house had been opened up for the couple to spend their first night there as man and wife.

"You've done wonders, Helen," Anne said, gazing at herself in the mirror.

The maid had styled her hair in a bun, and she wore the pearl earrings, inlaid in silver, her mother had given her before the Charlton Lodge ball. Anne's father had bought her a new dress, and with a pair of sequined slippers on her feet, and a silk shawl wrapped around her shoulders, Anne was ready.

"You'd look beautiful in anything, my Lady. I'm so happy for you," Helen replied, as a knock came at the door.

It was Anne's father, dressed in a new frock coat and tails. He looked every bit the proud father, and had come to escort Anne to the waiting carriage.

"I can't believe it's happening," Anne said, as they made their way downstairs, followed by Helen, whom Anne had insisted on inviting to the wedding.

"A truly happy day, Anne – for us all. I'm so proud of you," the earl said, and his words brought a tear to Anne's eye.

Her father was not given to outbursts of emotion, but there was no doubting the sincerity of his words, and as they came down the stairs to the hallway, Anne's mother was waiting for them, along with the duke and duchess.

"William's just left – don't worry, you won't meet him. He's gone with Maximilian and Teresa. Your carriage awaits, Anne," the duchess said, and the party escorted her out into the wintry sunshine of that perfect day.

The carriage had been decked with holly and ivy, the red berries glinting with frost. It was a cold day, but the sky was bright and blue, and there could be no doubting the warmth in their hearts as to the happy occasion to come. Anne sat opposite her mother and father, with Helen at her side, and the duke and duchess rose behind in a separate carriage, the party making its way in procession to the Church of Saint James, the church of Burnley Abbey.

"Oh, look, my Lady – there's quite a crowd gathered already," Helen said, as they drew up at the lychgate.

The Duke and Duchess of Crawshaw were there, along with their son, Ernest, a dashing blonde boy, in the first flush of youth. Isobel, their daughter, too, was there – the friend of Anne's who had written to her in such disparaging terms about Maximilian, and who now waved to her and smiled. In the previous six months, Maximilian himself had changed beyond all recognition. He and William had become firm friends, and it seemed the revelation of their kin had given rise to a far more congenial relationship. He was standing to greet the guests, acting as William's best man. Well-wishers from the village had come, and a cheer went up from the gathered crowd as Anne and the others climbed down from the carriage.

"You look beautiful, Anne," Isobel said, hurrying up to greet her.

The two had become close in the past six months, and Isobel had been a great help to Anne as she settled into her country life.

"I can't believe I'm here," Anne replied, for she felt quite overwhelmed at the thought of marrying William and becoming his wife.

The bells of the church were peeling a merry ding-dong, and Maximilian ushered the guests through the lychgate as the rector – Reverend Archibald Peterson – came to greet them. He was dressed in a billowing white surplice, and with his grey hair and half-moon spectacles, he looked every bit a minster of the established Church.

"Good day to you all – a chilly day, but the warmth of happiness pervades. The poor Baron finds himself somewhat nervous, I fear," he said, and Anne laughed.

"Then let's not keep him waiting any longer, Reverend Peterson," she exclaimed, as her father offered her his arm and they entered the sunlit interior of the church, where the organ was thundering a march.

Anne could see William waiting for her in the chancel, his back turned, even as he now turned to her and smiled.

"This way, my Lady," the clergyman whispered, and together with her father, Anne set off down the aisle, smiling at William as they approached.

"Were you nervous?" she whispered, as her father let go of her arm and she slipped her hand into William's.

"I've never been more so in my life. But now you're here, we're here…and you're true the most beautiful creature on all God's earth," he replied, as Reverend Peterson came to stand before them.

Anne smiled, squeezing William hand, as the clergyman cleared his throat and opened his prayerbook.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this Congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…" Reverend Peterson began, commencing the marriage service, as Anne and William stood arm in arm.

In that moment, Anne could feel nothing but happiness. She was taken up in it, caught in this moment of supreme joy – just like one of the heroines in her stories. Except this was not a story, not an idle romance, but the truth of the happiness she had longed for, the happiness now realized for them both. Anne and William made their vows before God and their families and friends. They promised to be faithful to one another their whole lives long, and love and honour one another in good times and bad. As they were pronounced man and wife, William turned to Anne and kissed her, and as their lips parted, he told her again just how much he loved her.

"And I love you, too," she replied, smiling up at him, and knowing this was just the beginning of a wonderful life together.

* * *

"Isn't it a charming place?" Anne said, looking up at Podmore Grange as she climbed out of the carriage later that afternoon.

A lavish tea party had been held at Burnley Abbey to celebrate the nuptials, and having eaten their fill of dainty cakes and jam laden scones, Anne and William had bid the others goodbye and set off for Podmore Grange – a short carriage drive from Burnley Abbey. Anne had not yet visited the ancestral home of the Mowbrays, for William had promised to make it a handsome dwelling for her – a wedding present, of sorts.

"A fine house, indeed – we'll be quite happy here when we're in the north, though my feet are itching to return to London," William replied.

Anne laughed. She knew William had taken to the city, and whilst she, too, preferred its hustle and bustle, there was something delightful about the house – a fine, red brick building, covered in ivy, with tall chimneys, set amongst lush, mature gardens, and looking out across a vast expanse of moorland, its pink and purple heathery hue shimmering in the winter sunshine.

"I think it's lovely, my Lady," Helen said, for she had accompanied the couple from Burnley Abbey and would remain with them for the duration of their stay.

As Helen helped Anne down from the carriage, the door of the house was opened, and a tall woman, with a beaming smile on her face, emerged to greet them.

"Good day, my Lord, my Lady – welcome to Podmore Grange. We've got the fires lit, and a cheerful welcome awaits you," she said, introducing herself as the housekeeper, Mrs. Foxbury.

A footman hurried out to take the bags, and Anne and William found the other servants lined up and waiting for them in the hallway, where paintings of the previous occupants hung on the walls, and a fire burned in the hearth.

"Oh, look – that's your aunt. She told me about this painting. I must invite her to take tea whilst we're here. She'll be delighted to see over the place. When the duke had tenants here, she didn't feel she could come and see it – but it's really her home, isn't it?" Anne said, pointing to a portrait of a man and woman, with two children, hanging on the wall.

"I want you to myself for a few days," William whispered, and two of the housemaids had to try hard to suppress their giggles.

Anne smiled, slipping her hand into William's.

"Don't worry. I won't invite anyone for at least a week," she replied.

Having made the introductions to the servants, the housekeeper led Anne and William into the drawing room, where candles had been lit, and the fire gave off a merry glow. There was wine, and the pleasant scent of cooking promised an excellent dinner to come.

"I'll leave you alone now, my Lord. Please ring if you require anything," Mrs. Foxbury said, before retreating from the room with a gracious bow.

Anne sat down by the fire with a grateful sigh. She could not have felt happier than she did in that moment, and William now came to sit beside her, slipping his arm around her and smiling.

"At last, we're alone," he said, as Anne rested her head on his shoulder.

"But what a beautiful day it's been," Anne replied, looking up at him.

He leaned forward and kissed her – a lingering kiss, their hands clasped together, his arms around her.

"No more chaperones, no more pretence – we can be alone together, just the two of us," he whispered, as their lips parted.

"If only I'd known how much that loaf of bread was really worth," Anne said, and William laughed.

"It wasn't worth anything at all – it just chalk dust and husks of wheat," he said, but Anne shook her head.

"Oh, but to me, it was priceless. If the baker hadn't charged so much for it, you'd never have come to my aid. I can't thank him enough," she said, resting her head on William's chest, as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"It's funny how fate plays such a part in our lives – a chance encounter can change everything, and a single word be the difference between happiness and sorrow. How grateful I am to fate," he said.

"But some things are meant to be. I'm not sure I believe in fate, so much as an unfolding of things meant to be. Everything in its proper time – your secret, for example," she said, and William nodded.

The families had agreed to keep the matter of William's parentage to themselves. The scandal would still be great if it was revealed, and there was no oddity in the Duke of Lancaster gifting his godson the forgotten title of Baron of Mowbray. All had ended happily, and whilst William was proud of his newly found lineage, there was no reason for it to be revealed. Connor was gone, threatened on every side by the knowledge of his wicked ways – his cheating and lies – and the secret would be safe with all those it concerned.

"But you and I shall have no secrets," William said, and Anne nodded.

"None at all – what could possibly be a greater secret than this? No – we'll have no secrets, William. Why would we? When you're in love, you wouldn't want to hold anything back," she replied, and William smiled.

"And that's why we've got such a happy life ahead of us, Anne. We know everything about one another – there's nothing to hide. I love you and you love me," that's all that matters," he said, and again he kissed her, and Anne knew his words were true – all they needed was love, and they had that in abundance.

William and Anne fought against the demons from the past shielded by their love!

But what about Maximilian? Will his rake ways keep him from a loving future? Will his old enemies leave him alone? He has to find out…