Epilogue
THREE MONTHS LATER
“Look at the great ship!” Henry said, his eyes wide as he pointed at the Mary Elizabeth, the large steam ship that was going to take them across the English Channel to the continent.
“It is majestic, is it not?” Mrs. Greaves said, her own eyes just as wide.
“Oh, goodness gracious,” Juliet mumbled beside Marianne. “I shall be ill, I am certain of it.”
“You do not know that,” Marianne said. “You have never been on a big ship. Besides, I have it on good authority that it is Mrs. Greaves who is most likely to run afoul of the might of the waves. Lucien told me.”
Juliet sighed. “Well, I suppose that means I must be on my best behavior. And even if I do feel queasy, I must swallow it down because someone will have to look after the old bird.”
“Do not call her that,” Marianne said with a chuckle.
“But she is. A lovable old bird, but an old bird nonetheless.”
Marianne and Juliet snickered, although the moment Mrs. Greaves turned their way, they both pressed their lips together to keep her from noticing.
The last three months had been most odd, one could say. Juliet and Marianne had left the convent the same day Lucien had arrived to bring them back. Well, to bring Marianne back.
Juliet had not been pleased. Her friend's fierce loyalty had made it so that she could not quite allow herself to believe Lucien's remorse the way that Marianne had.
But still, in due course, she too had decided to give him another chance.
Not that she had much choice. If she hadn't found it in her heart to look at Lucien the way that Marianne did, perhaps she would now not be standing here next to Marianne—not as her lady's maid, but as her companion and friend.
Juliet’s reluctance had not been the only difficulty.
The first fortnight back had been difficult for both Marianne and Juliet.
The adjustment had taken time. Henry had been confused about her sudden return after taking her leave just a few weeks earlier.
It had taken several days for him to trust that she was not going to leave again.
Juliet, likewise, had struggled with the sudden change in their lives. Guilt had also troubled her friend's conscience, because it had been because of Juliet, at least in part, that Marianne had decided to leave. It had been Juliet's encouragement that had brought her back to the convent.
And yet in the end, Marianne had managed to convince her friend that yes, Juliet had filled Marianne's head with doubt based on things she had learned below stairs, but she had acted out of genuine worry for her friend.
Marianne had been wrong to run away and not give Lucien one more chance to explain, and Lucien had been wrong to let the demons of his past influence his present.
They had all grown, and they had all learned.
And now, to celebrate this new life, they were embarking on an adventure together just as they’d promised at the convent.
Mrs. Greaves had been reluctant to join them due to her notorious tendency to get rather ill on sea voyages, but in the end, she had agreed. She couldn't let Juliet be the only one to go along, after all, given how little experience she had in being a lady's maid.
Although, of course, Juliet was no longer a lady's maid.
The role hadn't suited her, and Marianne had not enjoyed the difference in station between herself and her friend.
And thus they had decided that Juliet should no longer be a lady's maid, but instead her companion. The arrangement suited them both much better. Marianne had decided not to fill the position of lady’s maid, comfortable with tending to her own needs as she was.
Lucien likewise had decided not to bring his valet on their journey, desiring to be as regular as possible.
“I can scarcely believe that we are leaving,” Juliet said now. “And all the places we shall see. All the excitement.”
“I know it. I have read so much about Italy, Spain, Portugal, and all these wonderful places. “It shall be most enchanting.”
“Juliet!” Mrs. Greaves called. “Come help me make sure they sent the portmanteaus to the right accommodations.”
Juliet nodded and waved at Marianne, hastening forth toward the boat. Marianne joined Lucien, who had lifted Henry up onto his hip.
“Mrs. Greaves already appears unsteady,” he said as they watched Mrs. Greaves make her way along the gangway and into the interior of the boat with Juliet beside her.
She wrapped her arm around him, and he placed his around her shoulders. “I cannot believe we are really going,” she said. “It has all happened with such rapidity.”
“I know, but that is something you should learn about me. Once I am resolved upon a course, I'm quite determined to do everything I can to make it as I desire. Especially if it is something that is for the woman that I love.”
Her heart felt warm as he spoke these words.
He had said it to them many times since they had resolved their differences, and she knew it to be true, too.
He showed her in every possible way how much he adored her.
He brought her flowers, had her favorite meals prepared, and he would rub her feet when they sat in front of the fire.
He would stroke her hair. Most of all, he would ask her opinion and her desires, never assuming that she would acquiesce to whatever struck his fancy.
There were moments of quarrel between them, of course. But they both knew now to address them directly rather than allow discord to fester.
She was growing accustomed to his manner, and he to hers. He was not entirely cured of his habit of pushing her away whenever old guilt resurfaced, but she understood now where those moods came from and could manage them better.
And he understood now that giving in to his feelings of guilt was misplaced and would only harm the happiness that they had found together.
They were each a wounded spirit, but they had found that together they could not only bind but heal those wounds.
As for Henry, he had begun calling her Mama again a few weeks after her return, and this time Lucien had not withdrawn. He had not closed his heart once more.
In fact, he had embraced it. She had even heard him encourage Henry to call her Mama when the boy had been unsure afterwards. They truly were a family now. And their union had not only had a positive effect on them and Henry, but on her entire family.
Rhys and Charlotte had been delighted to find that they were now truly together.
Charlotte relished the thought that her sister was married to her husband's best friend.
Evelyn and Nathaniel likewise were pleased.
But no one was more pleased than her Aunt Eugenia.
Even though Eugenia had never found out that their union had been arranged in the beginning to defy her attempt at marrying off Marianne, their felicity had only confirmed her wisdom.
She thought she was quite right to push Marianne to leave the convent.
It was fortunate that there were no further sisters left that required suitable establishments, for otherwise she certainly would be doing it.
As for the convent, Marianne smiled as she thought about the nuns. No, she hadn't taken her vows, and no, she hadn't found the peace she had sought there the second time around. But the convent had still changed her life forever.
If not for Sister Bernadette's actions, she would never have forgiven Lucien. They never would have become a family.
“What are you smiling about?” Lucien asked.
“Sister Bernadette,” she said. “I am so pleased that she and Mrs. Greaves are once again writing to one another. Although I know now the letters will take much longer since we will be on the continent.”
“Indeed. But Mrs. Greaves was most delighted to have the connection again.”
“I still cannot believe that Sister Bernadette was once a lady of high society. How very bizarre.”
“I'll say,” Lucien replied. “But it is as you have said. The Lord does work in mysterious ways. For how extraordinary is it that the very nun whom Mrs. Greaves used to serve was the one who had the ability to bring us back together again?”
“Extraordinary, indeed,” Marianne replied.
“I had a mind to make a donation to the convent. I know they aid unfortunate women and those less fortunate in general. And they have given us so much that I thought it was the least I could do.”
Marianne beamed at him. “Yes, I agree. That would be wonderful.”
“Good. I have already left word with Stuart to make it so.”
They smiled at one another, and then Henry's laughter broke through their comfortable silence. “Look,” he said. “Look, more people are coming.”
Indeed, more carriages were arriving. Luggage was being unpacked by busy footmen and valets. Finely dressed gentlemen boarded the boat, while down the pier, she saw those in steerage boarding as well.
“Even here we must differentiate people between the so-called Quality and those who are less fortunate,” Marianne said, shaking her head.
“Such is the world we inhabit, my dear,” he said. “But I agree it is rather silly, for should the vessel flounder, we should all sink into the same ocean and go to the same place, I presume.”
“Do not say such things,” she said. “We should not court misfortune.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said with a laugh. “I had forgotten your superstitious nature.”
“I am not superstitious. I am simply prudent. There is a difference.”
“If you say so,” he replied, kissing her forehead. “Now, shall we press on and find our rooms? I want to look in on Mrs. Greaves. She was already getting ill in anticipation of the voyage.”
Marianne chuckled, although it was not funny. Poor Mrs. Greaves was convinced she would be most ill the entire journey.
“Well, it is fortunate that the physician has provided remedies to help her along. Although I must say, I do hope I shall not grow sick. I have felt rather unwell the last few days.”
“Have you?” he said. Then he inclined his head. “Are you quite certain that you have been feeling unwell because of the upcoming journey and not because of some other reason?”
Her eyes grew wide, and she placed her hand on her stomach. “Can it be so?”
“I am no physician, but I dare say I think it is possible.” He beamed at her. “I would be delighted.”
“As would I, but what inopportune timing, we will be away from home for so long.”
“Do not fret,” he said. “I am certain that there are excellent physicians in Italy and Spain and wherever else we shall be. And if you are truly with child, as I hope you are, our child will have to be a continental child, and we will settle wherever we are at the time until the child is old enough to travel with us.”
A child, she thought. The word sounded strange in her mind, and yet warmth spread through her at the thought of having a child that was an equal part of her and Lucien.
She adored Henry, but she had known for some time that she wanted a child of her own as well.
Maybe two or three or even four. However many they were going to be blessed with.
“I think we should keep these possible tidings to ourselves for a time,” she said. “Juliet will fuss over me terribly and Mrs. Greaves...”
Lucien grimaced. “Yes, we shall keep it to ourselves and see what happens. I think our companions will be excessively animated.”
“But let me tell you, if you are truly with child, you shall make me the happiest man in all of England. No, in all the world.”
“I love you, Lucien. And there is no one with whom I would rather have a family than you.”
“Nor I,” he said, kissing her again. Around them, several heads turned, for of course it was improper to be displaying such tenderness publicly, but Marianne did not care. And neither did Lucien. They were entirely of one mind.
“There is one thing I must tell you,” Lucien said. “I know you thought you were not made for the London drawing rooms or the stage, but you are entirely made to be a mother and an adventurer.”
“And your partner through life,” she added.
“And that is exceedingly fortunate for me,” he said, and with that, he kissed her once more, heedless of the stares about them. And Marianne closed her eyes, felt the sunshine on her face, and knew that whatever the future might hold, they would from now on be as one in all things, forevermore.
The End?