Epilogue
Ten months later
‘Come in,’ said Fallon Knight, smiling as she opened the front door to Nick and me. ‘Everything’s ready.’
We walked into the hallway of Lyonscroft, glad to be out of the freezing October evening.
It had been transformed into the atrium of a jazz age nightclub, draped with black and gold, towering palms in huge pots set around and a smiling hat check girl with an immaculately smooth bob waiting to take coats.
‘Your guests will be offered champagne or a cocktail here, then they’ll go through to the main space,’ she said, opening the door to show the living room transformed.
The furniture had been removed and a temporary dance floor laid.
There was a small stage at one end, where a band would play, and some little tables dotted about.
Golden fringes hung all around the walls, and lamps with red, tasselled shades lent the room a sultry glow.
‘The dining room is a sort of break-out area,’ continued Fallon, leading us there. ‘People can come here to rest and chat, and it also has the memorial to Marilise.’
‘It looks incredible,’ said Nick, his voice catching as we gazed at the room.
There were low sofas, tables and a small bar and, on the wall, a screen which was showing photos and videos from Marilise’s life, from the childhood photos in the snow I remembered her showing us not long after I first arrived at Lyonscroft, to video clips from last Christmas when we had prepared our final advent window for her, where she found a ticket for a horse-drawn sleigh ride exactly like the one Nick and I had taken on the night of the concert.
Tears filled my eyes as I remembered how much joy it had brought her, how tenderly Nick had helped her get in, how she said it had given her the best Christmas of her life.
‘Are you okay?’ Nick whispered now, taking my hand.
I nodded. I was. The grief I had felt at Marilise’s parting was different from that I had experienced over Paulo; no less important, no less profound, but softer somehow, lacking the hard edges of pain it had taken me so long to smooth.
‘I’ll leave you both to get ready,’ said Fallon, stepping away. ‘I’ll be here all evening, as will Sam.’
She left, and Nick and I sat down on one of the sofas and watched the pictures scroll.
‘I’m so glad she saw us married,’ he said, as a photo of our wedding, held just over six months after we first met, came onto the screen.
Funnily, it hadn’t felt at all rushed, but the most logical, almost inevitable, thing to do, mostly for us but also because we had so wanted Marilise to be there.
We only invited a handful of people: our families and some close friends, including Paulo’s parents Azula and Bernardo, who couldn’t have been happier for us.
India and Sofia were lovely bridesmaids in summer dresses they had each chosen themselves.
I had worn another of Marilise’s dresses from the attic, this one a pale pink silk A-line with a sweetheart neckline.
It came complete with a huge petticoat to help it stand out and had a tulle overlay, embroidered with flowers.
It belonged in the Victoria and Albert Museum rather than on me, but Marilise insisted, and it felt truly special.
The photo we had chosen for the display was of us sitting either side of Marilise on a bench in the garden of Lyonscroft.
It was a glorious June day with the roses in full bloom, and we had been caught by the photographer as, clutching glasses of champagne, we all collapsed with laughter because Minty had dressed Steve up as a pageboy and sent him trotting over, looking pleased as punch with his cute sailor collar and a pair of sunglasses.
Both were shaken off almost immediately, but he did look funny.
For me, it was the perfect wedding: simple, happy and heartfelt.
My mother and sister saw things rather differently, trying to persuade me into ivory, if not white – ‘I know it’s your second marriage, but it’s perfectly fine for a widow’ – as well as a hen night and vast guest list. I rebuffed them politely at every turn and, in the end, even they enjoyed the day.
When all the photos had scrolled through, we went upstairs to get ready.
Marilise had often encouraged me to wear her old clothes, so it seemed fitting that today I slipped on an elegant, floor-length black dress made from heavy, flowing silk crepe with embroidered lace sleeves.
I added some delicate gold jewellery that Nick had given me and styled my hair in a simple chignon.
As we came out of our room and walked along the landing, Astrid and Art stepped out of another door.
‘Oh, look at the two of you!’ exclaimed Astrid. ‘Such a beautiful couple.’
‘We could say the same ourselves,’ said Nick, smiling.
It was true. Since Art had appeared amongst the carol singers, he and Astrid had hardly spent a moment apart, making up for the years they had lost. India was thrilled to have her parents together, and the three of them were making plans to move out of Lyonscroft into a place of their own.
The four of us walked downstairs together. Art and I left Astrid and Nick in the hallway to greet the guests and went into the living room, where a tall, blonde woman in a dark grey tailored suit sat at one of the tables with a little girl, listening to the band.
‘Sofia!’ I said, holding out my arms for a hug as she spotted me and ran over. ‘I didn’t realise you had arrived. Oh, it’s lovely to see you!’
‘This is my mummy,’ she said, gesturing shyly towards the woman, who stood up slowly and glided over.
‘Victoria,’ she said, holding out a slim, cool hand for me to shake.
‘How nice to meet you at last,’ I said. ‘I’m so glad you were able to come today.’
‘We were very sorry to miss the wedding,’ she said with a slight trace of an American accent. ‘But I wanted to remember Marilise, and I’m pleased to meet you. Sofia has obviously become very fond of you.’
‘And I of her,’ I said warmly. ‘You have a fantastic daughter.’
She smiled faintly and touched Sofia’s hair.
‘I do.’
‘And thank you,’ I said. ‘For agreeing to the plans for Lyonscroft.’
She inclined her head graciously.
‘It was good of Nick and Marilise to consult me – they didn’t have to. And I think it’s a very good idea.’
From then on, the guests poured in, all with colourful memories of Marilise that they wanted to share. Fallon had suggested setting up a memories book for people to write in or add photos to, and soon a small group had formed of friends wanting to add their stories.
‘Marilise would have loved this,’ said Araminta, as we sat for a moment, our feet tired from dancing.
‘Wouldn’t she?’ I said. ‘She helped plan it, you know. She wanted to be sure that everyone would have a good time and that she would be remembered properly.’
‘As if anyone could ever forget her!’
‘I never could,’ I said fiercely. ‘I just wish I had known her for longer. She was so inspiring.’
‘That’s true,’ said Minty. ‘And actually, she’s inspired me.’
‘How?’
‘I’ve been stuck in a rut here, complaining about my family trying to matchmake me, living in that huge house that doesn’t want me there anymore, especially now both my brothers are married and an heir on the way.’
‘Dorothea still hasn’t forgiven me for refusing to become her maternity nurse,’ I said with a giggle. ‘When she found out she was pregnant, she came to me and asked me to reconsider. She doesn’t even like me, so I’m not sure why she was so determined.’
‘She doesn’t like not getting her own way,’ said Minty.
‘That’s true. So, what are you planning?’
‘I’m leaving,’ she said. ‘Soon. I’ve got a job in New York writing for the social pages of an American magazine – apparently, they like my ‘British wit’, and I have the right contacts to get invited to the sort of parties they want to feature.’
‘That’s brilliant,’ I said. ‘It sounds huge fun, but I will miss you.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back all the time – and maybe you and Nick will visit?’
‘Definitely,’ I said, giving her a hug. ‘Oh look, there he is now, he’s going to do a speech.’
Nick stood on the stage and waited while everyone was ushered into the room, then he took the microphone from the band leader.
‘Good evening, everyone. I want to thank you for coming tonight to celebrate Marilise. She was a remarkable woman, and I consider myself incredibly lucky for having known her and benefited from her wisdom – and the odd telling-off!’ A ripple of laughter went through the audience.
‘Her voice still resonates so strongly in my head that it is hard to believe that she is gone. I suppose that when you have such vivid memories of someone, when they are still changing your life, they are not gone at all. Marilise left many legacies of one sort or another: her Christmas traditions, her encouragement to follow your heart, her determination that things should work out, her sheer joy for life. But there is one more legacy that I want to share with you all tonight, one that she and I discussed at length before her death and which Astrid, of course, and also Victoria, were a part of.’ He smiled at his sister, who was looking more relaxed than she had before, and gave him a warm smile in return.
‘Between us, we decided that – inspired by my beautiful wife, Laura, and her amazing nursing work – we wanted to transform Lyonscroft into accommodation for nurses who work at our local hospital. It will be a mix of both long and short term; some will live here for several years, calling it home, others may need it only for a night or two. Some of the rooms will be set up as studies, so that student nurses can stay, and a small part of the house will remain private, so that we Princes can always call it home. We felt that this was a fitting way to transform Lyonscroft and make it a joyous place. Marilise’s only stipulation was that it should always, always be extravagantly decorated at Christmastime, and I will make it my personal duty to see that happens. Thank you.’
There was a thunderous round of applause as Nick stepped down from the stage and came over to me, taking me in his arms. We hugged and kissed as we both wiped tears away and he pulled me onto the dancefloor as the band started playing again.
‘Looks like people approve,’ he said.
‘Of course they do,’ I replied. ‘It’s the best possible thing.’
I had been overcome when they had told me their idea: a way to keep the house in the family, help others and put a final end to the unhappy memories that had suffused its walls.
‘And you don’t mind not being lady of the manor?’ he asked teasingly.
‘Well, I was looking forward to having Dorothea over for tea and exchanging tips on keeping one’s staff in line, but I’ll survive. And I’m sure the Californian sunshine will smooth away any residual pain.’
For we had decided to go there for a while, for a change, and to see where the wind blew us next.
When the evening ended and we had waved off the last guest, Fallon and her team swung into action, restoring the house to its usual appearance with remarkable speed.
As they did so, I disappeared for a while, preparing my final surprise of the evening.
When Nick and I were the only people left, I took his hand.
‘Come outside for a moment,’ I said, and we stepped into the chilly night. I led him a few steps away from the house, then we turned to look at it. A downstairs window was illuminated, with a large sheet of paper in it, painted with a number one.
‘What’s that?’ he said. ‘It’s not advent yet.’
‘Should we go and see?’ I asked.
We went back inside to a small study, where I had decorated the window with fairy lights and placed a box on the sill.
‘Open it,’ I said.
Nick removed the lid and looked inside at the little knitted booties I had placed there. A huge smile spread across his face.
‘A baby?’ he said, and I nodded.
Then he took me in his arms and squeezed me tightly before kissing me with so much love and passion I thought I might faint.
‘You’ve made me so happy,’ he said. ‘I never dreamt such happiness was possible.’
Kissing him back, I thought: I never dreamt it was possible twice.
*
If this book gave you all the holiday feels, make sure to check out Escape to the Country Kitchen!
When Juliet reluctantly returns home after a painful heartbreak, she discovers that handsome French chef Léo has opened a cookery school next door.
A warm-hearted and deliciously moreish kitchen romance!
Get it here, or read on for an exclusive extract!