A Lady's Fate

Epilogue

Five years later

"Sweet dreams, little one."

Mary gently stroked the vivid red tufts of curls atop the child's head, peering fondly down into the cradle at the pair of crystal clear blue eyes peering up at her, innocent and full of wonder. They blinked upon hearing a rustle from across the nursery - a slight snuffle and sigh from his elder sister's bed as she turned over in her sleep. She could not even remain still in slumber; much like Mary herself had been at that age.

In this very room were two of the three people she held dearest in all the world - and, turning away from the cradle, she realised with a smile that the third had appeared in the doorway.

"Ought you not to be downstairs?" she asked, wondering how long he had been watching her.

"I wished to enter the room with my wife beside me," he replied, with that charming smile which could not fail to make her feel rather weak at the knees.

"Oh," realised Mary, with a blush. "Well, the children are now both settled - shall we venture down?"

"May I have the honour of escorting you into the ballroom, milady?"

Mary felt her cheeks colour as she smiled bashfully.

"The honour would be all mine," she replied.

Arm in arm, husband and wife left their sleeping children, making their way down to their elegant ballroom. Catching sight of herself in an entrance hall mirror, Mary grinned as she caught sight of her reflection, marvelling at the way her violet gown rustled as she was swept across the room by her finely-dressed husband.

They paused on the threshold of the grand room. Mary, peering eagerly in at mass of silk and muslin gowns swishing about the ballroom, wished to enter immediately - but propriety dictated they should wait until announced.

"Sir Edmund and Lady Wills," came the cry from the announcer positioned in the doorway.

As heir to Alverton Hall, Sir Edmund hardly required an introduction - yet at the sound of the clear voice ringing out across the room, the heads of their guests turned as one to behold the baronet and his wife's descent into the ballroom. Blushing slightly at the many pairs of eyes upon her, Mary thankfully managed to keep her footing - partly thanks to Edmund's firm, unwavering grip on her forearm as he steered her down the stairs.

With the arrival of the baronet and his wife, the ball could now properly begin - and within moments, the musicians had struck up a first chord to assemble the guests for the first dance.

To her relief, Mary was not expected to dance - it was not often a pastime married couples engaged in - and so she took to a seat on the edge of the dancefloor more than willingly, perfectly content to watch their youthful, unattached guests dance and flirt together.

Mary had expected Edmund to go and greet his guests - but to her delight, he seemed reluctant to leave her side.

"It pleases me to see you smile, my dear," he told her quietly, taking the seat beside her.

"Well, I have every reason to be merry," smiled Mary in return.

And so she did.

The past five years had been something of a dream. From her humble beginnings as a lady's maid, Mary had transitioned into the life of a baronet's wife remarkably well - far better than anyone expected. She had learnt how to navigate social circles with more mastery than she had during her brief stint as Miss M. Thorpe, whilst never once losing her ebullient nature or feeling the need to shrink to fit society's narrow confines.