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Without giving the matter a second thought, Arthur picked up her coat from where it rested on the back of a chair and held it open for her. She stepped backwards into it with complete trust, slipping one arm and then the other through the sleeves before turning to face him once more.

He found himself smoothing the lapels where they had folded awkwardly beneath her hair, his hands lingering only long enough to straighten the collar and brush away an invisible crease.

"Perfect," he said, though he did not look at the collar.

Eliza's smile was small, though no less radiant for it. "Thank you."

She turned immediately back towards the children, kneeling to gather the three girls into one final embrace, kissing first Alice's temple before wrapping Mary so tightly in her arms that the girl dissolved.

"I could come with you, Lizzie."

Arthur looked up. Henry still stood exactly where he had spent much of the afternoon, though the determined glare he had directed towards Arthur had softened into something altogether different.

Hope. For one fleeting moment Arthur was entirely convinced that Eliza would surrender immediately. She possessed a heart far too generous for refusing children, and he had quietly suspected throughout the afternoon that, were every orphan in England to request residence at Winworth, his wife would somehow attempt to accommodate them all.

Instead, to his considerable surprise, she crouched before Henry until they were level.

She cupped his face gently between both hands, speaking so quietly that Arthur could not distinguish a single word. He watched the little boy's expression with quiet fascination.

The determination remained for a moment. Then the stubborn set of the boy's jaw began to soften. His shoulders lowered. The fierce resolve gave way to reluctant understanding, until at last Henry gave the smallest nod imaginable.

Eliza smiled, brushing an errant lock of hair from his forehead before rising once more.

Arthur found himself unexpectedly impressed. She gathered together the drawings, pressed flowers and handmade treasures the children had insisted she take with her, accepting each one with precisely the same delight as though it had been the finest gift ever placed into her hands.

"I shall see you all again very soon," she promised as they reached the doorway. "But only if I continue receiving letters."

She looked pointedly towards Cora.

"And I fully expect your cursive to have improved by then." Cora groaned dramatically. Mary laughed. Even Henry smiled.

Arthur stepped forward, offering Eliza his arm before escorting her carefully towards the waiting carriage. Once she had settled comfortably inside, he climbed in after her, closing the carriage door behind them before glancing back through the window.

The entire Didley household had gathered upon the doorstep.

Mrs Didley rested one arm around Alice's shoulders while Mr Didley stood quietly beside her, one hand raised in farewell. Mary waved enthusiastically, Cora with both arms, and Henry, after only the briefest hesitation, lifted his own hand as well.

Eliza continued waving until the cottage disappeared entirely from sight. Only then did she lower her hand. Arthur watched her profile in silence. There was no mistaking the longing upon her face, not for the cottage, but for the people within it.

She had spent the afternoon surrounded by children who adored her, by two foster parents who still regarded her as their own daughter, and by a home that had shaped every kindness he had come to admire within her.

The journey back to Winworth proved considerably quieter than the one that had brought them to the village.

Eliza rested one hand upon the little pile of gifts in her lap, occasionally smiling to herself as though replaying conversations only she could hear. At the same time, Arthur found his own thoughts refusing to settle upon any one subject for long.

Radnor remained foremost in his mind, his condition as uncertain now as it had been that morning. Then there was Eliza; he had forgotten her birthday. The uncomfortable truth was infinitely worse. He had never known when it was.

Finally, despite every effort to dismiss it, his thoughts returned to the request she had made whilst wandering through the marketplace. Another night's sleep. In his bed.

He had been momentarily speechless at the sheer boldness of it, yet the more he considered the request, the less extraordinary it seemed.

She was not asking for jewels. Nor gowns. Nor any of the extravagant gifts society would have expected him to bestow upon his Duchess. She was asking only for a peaceful night's sleep, and he found himself unable to deny her.

Indeed, he suspected it would have been considerably easier to purchase every diamond in London than refuse the hopeful look with which she had made such a simple request.

They arrived back at Winworth in no time at all. He stepped out of the carriage, helping Eliza out before wishing her a pleasant evening. The sun would soon be setting, and thanks to their late start, he was behind on correspondence.

He made his way to his office, where he worked his way through letters and accounts, and before long the sun had set. At last he reached the final letter. Arthur laid down his quill before reaching for the whisky glass resting in its customary place beside the inkstand. His thumb found the familiar engraving cut into the crystal, tracing the delicate inscription almost instinctively before he lifted the glass to his lips.