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Five Years Later
Frederick had lost his wife amid the sea of partygoers.
It was quite the feat, considering her dress was by far the finest of any dress worn by the ladies in attendance, its watery blue silk setting off her red hair so that it seemed to gleam in the sunlight. She had looked so beautiful that Frederick had been a little jealous that he had to share her with everyone else that was here at the party today.
He peered around the garden, packed with revelers come to celebrate Beatrice and Arthur’s fifth wedding anniversary. The ton had quickly forgotten Beatrice’s common origins, easily won over by her charm and the endlessly diverting balls she had quickly become known for throwing.
Lady Georgiana Montford walked through his line of sight wearing one of Marianne’s designs, and Frederick grinned to himself. Marianne’s own path into high society had been much less straightforward than Beatrice’s. Nearly every step of it had fiercely divided London’s upper echelon, some finding her fascinating and others looking at her as a kind of cautionary tale. “You see,” people murmured to one another, “you never know what the working class will do.”
The chatter had been contained to a few circles when Marianne had moved out of her parents’ home, but had exploded to every parlor and club dining room when word had gotten out that Frederick was still seeing her, that he was in fact courting her. “It was one thing for him to court her when she was nouveau riche,” the naysayers had muttered, “but now she is nothing at all.”
And yet, for every haughty mama and disdainful lord that looked down on Marianne or was scandalized by Frederick’s association with her, there seemed to be two more that were intrigued by the drama and the romance of it all. New money girls seeking noble husbands were nothing new, but a rich woman who gave up everything to make dresses was a curiosity, and so was the earl who had remained devoted to her, who had proudly escorted her around London, and had eventually asked her to marry him.
Frederick and Marianne had discovered two things in those early days of their rekindled relationship: the first was that every storm eventually passes if one can weather it long enough, and the second was that gossip is great for business. Marianne had barely finished her apprenticeship before she had women asking after her designs, and her marriage to Frederick the following autumn had only increased demand. That season, a ballgown designed by Lady Alderwick had become something of a mark of distinction, and Marianne had found herself so in demand that she was turning away clients.
“Who would have thought,” she had said wonderingly to Frederick at the time, “that it would be my dress designing, which my parents were so ashamed of, that finally unlocked doors to the rooms my family was kept out of for years?”
Frederick and Beatrice had both nearly burst with pride at Marianne’s success, and Beatrice now loved flaunting her special privileges, always the first each season to receive a new gown designed by the ton‘s most eccentric lady. Several years on, business was still thriving. Marianne liked to tease Frederick that perhaps some day her success would rival that of he and Thomas’s shipping business, which had quickly become known as the preeminent purveyor of unique commodities from the world over. Frederick’s bet on Thomas’s instincts had been a spectacular investment, as he had quickly proved himself able to hunt down the most beautiful and valuable goods anywhere his ship landed.
Thomas’s best find, however, had been his lovely wife Clotilde. She was a native of Martinique who wore her gold-beaded locs long under her feathered hat, a clever and brilliant sailor in her own right. It had been love at first sight for Thomas, and he’d wasted no time convincing her to marry him. When Thomas had swept into town, red hair grown sun-bleached and shaggy with a sailor wife on his arm, Frederick could only shake his head and smile at how his friend nearly beamed with happiness.
“This life suits you,” he had said to him.
“Indeed,” Thomas had replied. “You should try it. It is marvelous not being a lord. You can do whatever you like.”
“And who would provide the funds when you decide to expand our fleet, or give you such a warm welcome when you sail into town with your family?”
“Ah, you are right,” Thomas had laughed. “Together, we have found a good balance, have we not?” And they had clinked their glasses, and Frederick had wondered at how good his life had become.
Frederick had nearly given up on finding Marianne when he heard a familiar shrieking giggle nearby. He turned in its direction, and caught a flash of red hair as his son Peter raced across the lawn on his tiny legs. Beatrice was close behind him, pretending to chase him, which was what had caused him to giggle.
“Save me, save me,” he shouted in his tiny voice, and threw himself on Frederick’s legs. Frederick, heart so full he thought it might explode, swooped down and scooped his son up into his arms.
“Save you? From what?”
“Auntie Bea! She a monster!”
“Yes, I am!” Beatrice shouted, catching up and reaching out to tickle Peter, causing him to wiggle in Frederick’s arms. “I devour small children, I think they are delicious!” And she leaned in to pretend to chew on Peter’s cheeks, making him giggle even harder.
“Sorry to interrupt, my dear, but Lord and Lady Brentwood are here and wished to say hello,” Arthur said, appearing at their sides and looking completely unbothered by his wife’s antics.
“Ah, yes,” Beatrice said, straightening up and smoothing down her skirt. “Auntie Bea must go be a lady for a while, Peter, but come find me later and I shall make sure you get the biggest slice of cake.”
“I will!” Peter declared, waving to her as Arthur escorted her away.
“Peter, have you seen your mother?” Frederick asked once he had his son’s attention all to himself.
“Hmmm, yes,” Peter said. “Saw her this morning.”
Frederick laughed.
“Let us go find her, shall we?”
It took them another half an hour to locate Marianne, in large part because on their way around the garden they had spotted a butterfly and gotten distracted following its fluttering path through the flower beds. In the end, they had found Marianne sitting on the terrace, absorbed in conversation with some of the other ladies.
“We should not interrupt while she is talking to her friends,” Frederick said to Peter, “but I have something important to tell her. What should we do?”
Peter tilted his head, his serious expression adorable on such a small face, and a curl of red hair falling onto his forehead. Finally he replied.
“Write her a letter!”
Frederick smiled. The tale of how his parents had fallen in love while writing letters to one another was one of Peter’s favorite stories.
“Ah, what a clever son I have! A letter is a wonderful idea.”
Peter beamed.
“You have paper?” he asked.
“As a matter of fact,” Frederick said, “I do.” They settled themselves on a shady part of the terrace and Frederick took out a pencil and a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. He smoothed the paper over his knee and thought for a moment, and then smiled as he wrote down his message. Peter sat beside him, arms propped on his knees and chin in his hands, watching carefully.
“What does it say?” he asked, voice full of curiosity.
“It says I love your mother very much, and when she is done talking, I hope she will come take a walk in the gardens with me.”
“Say I love her, too!”
Frederick dutifully added Peter’s message, and then tucked away his pencil. An idea occurred to him and he began to making a series of intricate folds in the paper. Peter clapped his hands.
“Make a butterfly?” he asked.
“Hmmm, I do not know how. Let me try.”
Thomas had brought back the art of paper folding after a particularly long voyage, in which he had spent part of the time on a ship that originated in Japan. He had shown them a small book with instructions for different designs, as well as the brightly colored paper that the practitioners often used. Marianne had been delighted by the small paper animals and other shapes, and so Frederick had decided he would learn how to make them.
He had never made a butterfly before, but after a moment’s consideration, he thought he could get close by modifying another design he knew. He and Peter bent over the paper, Frederick’s fingers working deftly and Peter watching intently. Finally, he had made a design that he was satisfied with, and he stood. Catching the attention of one of the servants circulating with refreshments, he beckoned them over.
“I beg your pardon, but I wonder if you would be good enough to deliver this to Lady Alderwick? She is over on the other side of the terrace.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Frederick placed the paper butterfly on the man’s tray and watched as he made his way across the terrace. Peter tugged on his pant leg and he bent to pick him up so that he could watch, too.
The servant bowed and handed Marianne the note, which made her smile. She glanced around and her eyes found them. Peter waved vigorously and Frederick raised his hand, smirking a little as Marianne unfolded the butterfly so she could read it. He had summarized the note for his son, but the full message was for Marianne alone.
Dear Lady Eiderdown,
Your goose of a husband is missing you terribly. I wonder if you would do him the honor of a walk in the garden? At your convenience, of course. But please do hurry. You know how geese can get if they are cranky, and I should hate to start hissing at Lady Belmont’s other guests.
– Your loving husband
p.s. Peter says he also loves you very much.
p.p.s. Hen, do not even think about bringing your parasol. I intend to find all the sunniest paths and make you walk along them. I do believe some of your spots are starting to fade, and that is unacceptable.
Marianne’s smile grew as she read the note, and even from this far away, he could see a hint of a blush rising on her cheeks. His smirk widened. The obnoxious boy he’d been when they first met was long gone, but he’d found that when she was in on the joke, teasing his wife was still a favorite pastime. Especially since she could give as good as she got, and would tease him right back. And just as he suspected, she seemed to be calling for pen and paper, and he knew that she would write him a note back that was just as teasing, and just as full of love.
His heart thrilled thinking about it, and he was once again struck by how far they had come. From squabbling as children to completely misunderstanding one another, from two people exchanging letters that allowed them to tell secrets they otherwise could not say, to husband and wife sharing everything with one another—but still writing love letters.
Just because there is nothing better than a good love letter.
He wondered how many of these little notes they could squeeze into the afternoon. He was looking forward to it, to flirting with his wife from a distance until it was time for them to go home.
And then, of course, he would get her all to himself. Everyone else here may get to admire her beauty, her exquisite dress and her radiant hair, but really, it was silly of him to be jealous. After all, he was the only one that got to take her home and kiss every single one of her lovely spots.
OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Secrets and Passions of High Society", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hello there, my dearest readers! I hope you enjoyed the book and the Extended Epilogue! I will be waiting for your comments here. Thank you 😊
I really enjoyed this story. I had hoped Marianne and Thomas would get away from their hateful parents. I thought maybe one would stay . The story kept moving along. I fell in love with Fredrick before Marianne realized she was in love with him. I really like stories with strong females in them, I have liked all of your stories but this one is one my favorite list. Thank you for the pleasurable hours you have given me.
Thank you for your wonderful comment, dear Marion! Knowing readers enjoy my stories is everything! Thanks, again, for reading! 💝
Oh wow!! I so enjoyed this book so much , I was so sad it ended. The story was strong from the first word to the very last word of the story. At first I didn’t know what I hoped for Marianne when Fredrick started writing to her. Every page and every chapter kept me from putting the book down to do other things. Thank you for this wonderful story and I can’t wait to read the next one.
Thanks for reading, dear Candy! Can’t wait to share my next release with you! 💖