A/N And we have reached the end! Thank you for sticking by this, guys, and a special thanks to all the Guest Reviewers - I really wish I could reply to you in person.

Epilogue

Two years passed. There were good days, where she felt almost normal again, and bad days where she sat and stared out of a window for hours upon hours. She had travelled back to Ireland, after a time, gone to her step-mother's house. Helen had taken one look at her, started to cry and enveloped her in an embrace, all the prejudice and dislike evaporated into nothingness by the tragedy.

"You and Elba are the only things I have left of him," Helen sobbed.

Clove had begun to cry too, and the two women had sunk to the floor and wept for what seemed like hours.

Madge had stayed in America with a boy she had met. Glimmer and Marvel had married and had taken in Prim and Rue. Miss Trinket had sworn never to set foot on a ship again and found another position as a governess in New York. Annie, dear, sweet Annie had never recovered from her grief and Clove would never forget that awful day when a letter arrived from Glimmer, letting her know that Annie had gone to join her husband with God.

Slowly, a life grew out of the patchwork pieces left behind by the disaster. Clove and her step-mother spent more time together, helping the poor, running the house.

Then, the second blow struck.

4th of August, 1914.

Britain declared war on Germany.

Tensions had been simmering in Europe throughout that summer like a giant cooking pot, and then the Archduke Ferdinand had been assassinated. The whole of the world held its breath as armies were mustered and Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia. Then Germany. Then Britain.

And now that the world was at war, it seemed as though the Titanic had been forgotten. And so Clove put it out of her head and insisted on training as nurse at the school in Belfast. She would not sit idly by whilst people died; she had done enough of that on that fateful morning of the 15th of April 1912.

It was not easy. It took weeks to learn everything, to bite down on her tongue and accept orders from Matron, a stern, grey-haired woman with sharp eyes that never seemed to miss anything. There were endless days of making beds until they were perfect, washing bandages, cleaning bed-pans. But then the wounded started to arrive, and they were even busier in their hospital in the city-centre, re-bandaging wounds, cleaning blood from skin, working, working, working from dawn until dusk.

It was one of these days, two years into the war, where she was walking home from her shift at the hospital, exhausted and worn-out with the weight of the injured men's moans on her back. All of a sudden, she walked into something hard and solid and stumbled back with a cry of surprise.

Hands caught her before she fell, and then she was looking into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

Her mouth fell open.

"You should watch where you are going next time, Miss…Clove?"

"Cato," she said, faintly. "It's you."

His khaki uniform was neatly pressed and there was a hat on his hair but the shape of bandages bulged on his shoulder.

"You're…you're a nurse, now…"

"Yes, I am. And you're a soldier – what happened?"

"Shot, badly." he said. "But it's almost healed. I'm going back out there in a week."

"You…you must call on us. 20 Winsor Avenue." She blushed under his searching gaze. "I had better be going. Helen's expecting me."

The next night he came for supper, still in his uniform. Helen smiled as she greeted him. "My stepdaughter will be here soon, Mr Guillory. She only returned from her shift at the hospital about a half-hour ago. Can I offer you something to drink?"

"No, thank you," Cato said, looking around at the beautiful paintings on the walls.

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds, and then the door swung open. He turned, and Clove was there, beautiful in an old dark blue gown. She smiled, almost shyly, and came towards him.

"Good evening, Mr Guillory. I am so pleased you were able to come."

"Miss Andrews." He kissed her hand.

After dinner, Helen excused herself, suggesting that Clove might like to show their guest the library. He offered his good arm, and she took it, escorting him towards the great door and stepping into the world of the books that had been her solace when she had first arrived here.

He looked around in silence for a few minutes, and she seated herself on the divan by the fireplace. Then he turned to her, and there was an unidentifiable emotion in his eyes.

"Clove," he said softly. "I know you turned me down last time I asked this, but, well…I have had too many brushes with death over the past years and if anything, they have taught me to seize things in life with both hands and to not let them go. I made a mistake in letting you walk away from me last time, and…"

"What are you saying?"

He took a breath and knelt down beside her. "Clove Johanna Andrews, will you marry me?"

She stared at him for a second, then a smile began to tug at her features like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, Cato Guillory, I will."

End