Epilogue #2
No mention of snow. Not even a suggestion of snow. Just rain and more rain and temperatures that were somehow both freezing and wet.
Victoria refreshed the app. Then refreshed it again. Then switched to a different weather app, because surely one of them had to be lying.
They were not lying.
"Why are you murdering your phone?" Sasha mumbled into the pillow.
"I'm not murdering anything. Go back to sleep."
"Can't. You're radiating stress. It's very loud." Sasha rolled over, squinting at her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just checking the weather."
"Why?"
"Because I'm interested in meteorological patterns?"
Sasha propped herself up on one elbow, hair gorgeously mussed, looking far too alert for someone who'd been asleep thirty seconds ago. "You're being weird."
"I'm always weird."
"Weirder than usual." But Sasha was smiling, leaning in to kiss her. "Come back to bed. It's freezing and you're hogging all the warmth."
Victoria let herself be pulled back down, wrapped herself around Sasha's sleep-warm body, and tried very hard not to think about how her perfect snow-dusted proposal was currently being drowned in a monsoon.
She could adapt. She was good at adapting.
By nine a.m., Victoria had consumed three cups of coffee and was standing on the terrace under an umbrella, surveying the wreckage of the flower planters.
The rain had not let up. If anything, it had gotten worse, coming down in sheets that turned the garden into something resembling a lake.
"This could work," Victoria muttered to herself.
It could not work.
"Victoria? Darling, what on earth are you doing?"
She turned to find her mother standing in the French doors, wrapped in a dressing gown and looking utterly baffled.
"Nothing. Just… enjoying the garden."
"In a thunderstorm."
"It's not a thunderstorm. It's just rain."
Lady Charlotte stepped onto the terrace, pulling her dressing gown tighter. "You're going to catch your death. Come inside."
"I'm fine, Mama. Really."
"You're standing in the rain staring at dead flowers. That's not fine, it’s… concerning." Her mother moved closer, lowering her voice. "Is everything alright? With you and Sasha?"
"What? Yes. Of course. Everything's perfect."
"Because if you're having doubts, or if there's something you need to talk about…"
"There are no doubts." Victoria said it perhaps too forcefully, because her mother's expression shifted into something knowing and dangerous.
"Then when are you going to make an honest woman of her?"
Victoria felt heat flood her face despite the cold rain. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Darling. You've been living together for months. You're clearly mad about each other. Your father and I have already started discussing whether to have the wedding here or in Manchester, though obviously here is better, we have the space."
"Mama."
"I'm just saying, she's not going to wait forever. Lovely girl like that, she could have anyone."
"I'm aware."
"So what are you waiting for?"
For snow, Victoria wanted to say. For perfect weather and perfect timing and a perfect moment that didn't involve her entire family eavesdropping from approximately six feet away.
"I'm not waiting for anything," she said instead. "I'm just... taking my time."
"Well, don't take too long." Lady Charlotte patted her arm. "Now come inside before you drown. I need help with the breakfast."
BY THREE O’CLOCK, Victoria had regrouped.
The terrace was a wash, literally, but the library was perfect.
Quiet, intimate, lined with books that gave it an air of gravitas.
Her father spent most afternoons in the greenhouse anyway, and everyone else was occupied: Cathy napping, Archie hovering anxiously nearby with more cushions, Sophie at the stables with Fromage, Grandmother Alexandra doing whatever mysterious things she did in the afternoons that might involve gin.
Even Ambrose was gone, going to pick up Lukas’s mother from the station.
Victoria had raided what remained of Lukas's flowers and arranged them in a vase on the side table. Not as impressive as the terrace display would have been, but acceptable. The ring box sat heavy in her pocket, ready.
She just needed to get Sasha here.
"Library?" Sasha said when Victoria found her in the morning room. "What's in the library?"
"A book. That I wanted to show you."
"A book."
"Yes. A very interesting book. About plants."
Sasha stood, looking amused. "Alright then. Show me this very interesting… book."
Victoria led her down the corridor, mentally rehearsing her speech. She'd practiced it a dozen times in the mirror that morning, edited it down to something that felt genuine rather than overly rehearsed. She knew exactly what she wanted to say.
The library was empty, afternoon light filtering through the windows, and for one perfect moment Victoria thought this might actually work.
"So," Sasha said, glancing around. "Where's this book?"
"Right. The book." Victoria took a breath. "Actually, there's no book."
"Shocking revelation."
"I wanted to talk to you. Properly. Without everyone else around."
Something shifted in Sasha's expression, her smile softening. "Okay. I'm listening."
This was it. Victoria reached for the ring box in her pocket, felt the velvet smooth under her fingers. "Sasha, I…"
The library door burst open.
"Przepraszam! Oh, tutaj jest!"
Victoria froze as a small, elderly woman bustled into the room, speaking rapid Polish and heading directly for the wingback chairs near the fireplace.
She was wearing a floral housecoat and sensible shoes, and she moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what she was doing, even if no one else did.
"Um," Sasha said. "Is that…?"
"Lukas's mother?" Victoria said faintly. "Unless we know another Polish woman, yes."
Pani Kaminska had grabbed one of the wingback chairs and was attempting to drag it across the room, still talking cheerfully in Polish.
"Should we…?" Sasha started.
"Nie, nie, tutaj!" Pani Kaminska gestured emphatically at the other chair. "Pomó? mi!"
"I don't think she's asking us," Victoria said. "I think she's telling us."
"She seems very determined."
Pani Kaminska was indeed very determined. She was now repositioning a side table.
"Excuse me," Victoria tried. "We were actually just…"
"Tak, tak, dobrze!" Pani Kaminska beamed at her, clearly thrilled to have helpers, and launched into what sounded like an explanation of her design philosophy.
"Right," Victoria said. "Of course."
The door opened again, and Lukas appeared, looking harried. "Mamo! Przepraszam, I told her to wait in the…" He took in the scene: the rearranged furniture, Victoria and Sasha standing awkwardly with a chair between them, his mother gesturing enthusiastically at the window placement.
"She wanted to redecorate," Sasha offered.
"She always wants to redecorate." Lukas switched to Polish, his tone affectionate but firm. Pani Kaminska responded with what sounded like a detailed justification of her choices, gesturing at the room's proportions.
Victoria still had the ring box in her pocket. Sasha was three feet away, looking bemused. The moment was completely, utterly destroyed.
She let herself be led out of the library, the ring box still heavy in her pocket, her perfect speech still unspoken.
Tomorrow. She'd try again tomorrow.
brEAKFAST WAS, AS always, chaos.
The dining room table groaned under the weight of what Lady Charlotte insisted on calling "a simple morning spread" of eggs, bacon, sausages, toast, pastries, enough food to sustain a small army.
Everyone was there except Sasha, who'd texted that she'd be down in ten minutes, she just needed to shower off the mud from helping Lukas in the garden.
Ambrose and Lukas sat close together, shoulders touching, sharing food off each other's plates in a way that would have been nauseating if it weren't so clearly genuine.
Even Cathy looked content this morning, her usual pregnancy rage temporarily set aside as she worked her way through a plate of eggs while Archie hovered nearby with toast offerings.
Sir Archibald read his newspaper. Lady Charlotte chatted happily. Grandmother Alexandra presided over it all with her usual air of amused detachment. And Pani Kaminska spoke cheerfully in Polish to anyone who would listen, which was mainly Lukas, who was trying to translate between bites.
It was picture-perfect family happiness.
And Victoria wanted to scream.
She'd been trying to propose for two days.
Two entire days of failed attempts, ruined plans, and increasing desperation.
The rain had finally stopped this morning, but the terrace was still a muddy disaster.
The library was now arranged according to Pani Kaminska's specific aesthetic vision.
She'd tried the greenhouse yesterday evening only to find Sophie conducting some kind of emergency calf wellness check that apparently required fourteen different people and took three hours.
She had one day left. One day before Christmas, and then everything would be holiday chaos, and she'd lose her chance at the perfect moment.
"Victoria, darling, are you alright?" Lady Charlotte was looking at her with concern. "You've barely touched your breakfast."
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," Sophie said. "You look like you're plotting murder."
"I'm not plotting murder."
"Could've fooled me. You've got that face on."
"What face?"
"The face you get when something's not going according to plan and you're about to have a breakdown about it." Sophie bit into a piece of toast, entirely too perceptive for seventeen. "What's wrong? Did the bank reject you again? Because honestly, their loss…"
"I work for myself now. I’m an independent investment advisor. There’s no bank to reject me."
"Then what is it about?"
Everyone was looking at her now. Even Sir Archibald had lowered his newspaper. Lady Alexandra had paused with her teacup halfway to her lips.