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On that note, Arthur left the dining room to make preparations for a journey that promised to be distinctly different from the one that had brought them to London, for there would be no careful distance between them this time, only a husband and wife returning together to the place that they could both call home.

Epilogue

Six Weeks Later

November 29th, 1815

Eliza lay curled beneath the linens in Arthur’s chambers, or perhaps she ought to begin calling them their chambers. Since returning from London, they had not spent a single night apart.

Until last night.

Somehow, without either of them ever formally deciding upon it, two chambers had become one. Her gowns had found their way into his dressing room, and even Vinnie and Mr Ellis now arrived at the same door each morning, often in tandem, apparently having accepted the arrangement long before either of their employers thought to acknowledge it.

The soft crackle of the fire filled the room as Eliza watched the orange glow dance across the hearth, fighting the increasingly determined pull of sleep while she waited for Arthur's return.

An important estate matter had taken him away from Winworth overnight. Eliza had, naturally, insisted that she accompany him, and Arthur had, equally naturally, refused, declaring the winter journey entirely unsuitable for a lady.

She intended to inform him precisely what she thought of that particular decree the moment he returned.

If she could remain awake long enough to do so.

For the past week, tiredness had begun creeping upon her with peculiar ease. By afternoon, her eyelids seemed determined to betray her, and evenings that she ordinarily spent reading or talking with Arthur now found her longing for bed considerably earlier than usual.

Most inconvenient.

Arthur would undoubtedly have something to say about it when she told him. Indeed, knowing her husband, he would probably summon half the medical profession before she had finished explaining that she was merely a little tired.

The thought made her smile sleepily into the pillow, and as if she summoned him with her thoughts, there was a knock on the door.

“Your Grace?” Mr Ellis called.

Eliza sat upright at once. That was not who she was expecting.

Before she had time to offer more than a startled response, the door swung open and in swept her sister, bundled beneath a thick winter coat and bonnet, a small travelling trunk clutched in one hand.

“Cecily!”

Any lingering tiredness vanished.

Eliza threw back the linens and hurried from the bed, wrapping her arms tightly around her sister. They had written to one another every week since parting in London and, for the most part, the tension between them had disappeared. Cecily had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the search for James, and although there had been little progress, her letters had assured Eliza that she remained determined to find him.

But none of that explained why she was standing in their bedchamber.

In fact, Cecily ought not to have been anywhere near Winworth. She had been due to return to the Danbury household a week earlier and was not expected back at Winworth until Christmas.

Eliza drew away, unable to conceal her confusion. “I am so happy to see you, but how are you here?”

“I have no time to explain the particulars, but I am equally delighted to see you.” Cecily glanced towards the clock.

“Unfortunately, we cannot idle for long. Please strip for me.”

“I beg your pardon?” Eliza blinked.

Cecily had already dropped to her knees beside the trunk.

“I need you to try my latest creation, and it is quite urgent, so please do hurry.”

She lifted the lid and drew out a sweep of ivory fabric.