A/N: Hi friends – old and new! – I'm having an existential crisis because I actually have this entire story completely written(!), so I can truly promise that, although I missed my "by Christmas" goal, it won't be long until this story is complete!

Thanks again for sticking with me (if you have). College has been rough on my mental health, but I've only one more semester! – be prepared for a sappy reflexion in my endnote on the final chapter :)

Happy holidays – 'cause there's a bunch going on right now! – and enjoy!

Chapter 19: Find Your Way Home

"There's a place at the end of the journey with every good thing you have known..."

1 November 1916

The couple stood still taking a moment to absorb the information they'd just learned.

"So," Mary began, trying to find her voice amid the confusion, "does this mean I've lost–" she fumbled, flummoxed, "but wait I just…" she trailed off, motioning with her hands as though they would help her grab at the right words.

"Yes you–" Bert began, but abruptly caught himself when a new idea came to him. Snapping his fingers for emphasis, "what if you've lost some of your powers, but not all of them!" he suggested.

The excitement at coming to this conclusion was evident in the sweep's manner – Mary could feel the energy radiating from it, and she played off of it, standing up and delighted by the revived spirits of the room.

"Perhaps!" she agreed, "I don't think I still have Aunt Lizzie's magic, possibly not father's" – this seemed to sadden her – "but I certainly have not lost my own!"

"And you're staying right here from now on," he added giddily, picking her up, spinning her around, and kissing her.

"And I'm going to be your wife in a fortnight!" she happily continued, kissing both his poppy-red cheeks as he set her down.

Suddenly, Mary's eyes widened as she realised something she'd forgotten in her anxieties surrounding her thirtieth birthday.

"I still do not have anything to wear for the wedding," she exclaimed.

Her fiancé rolled his eyes – he could care less what she wore when they were wed; all he cared about was that she was his.

Intuiting his critique, "I care what I am wearing! But that aside," Mary walked over to set out a pair of boots, a coat, and gloves which would look smart enough for her liking together, "I first have to talk to Uncle Albert tomorrow, anyway."

"Of you could go to a dressmaker while you're out," Bert said, awaiting a belittling response. She did not disappoint.

"Ready to wear is much more practical for something I will probably only wear once, thank you very much, Herbert Alfred!" she replied matter-of-factly, stressing each syllable of his name.

The next morning, Mary Poppins set out to the residency of Mr. Albert Wigg, alone. The couple had already decided that Mary's uncle would be the best person to give Mary away at their ceremony – he had been like a father to her since her own had passed away. Thus, Bert made an excuse about selling chestnuts to celebrate the winter coming – insurance to allow him to opt out of the visit; he had his own errands to run – and so they went their separate ways.

In actuality, he called upon all three of his soon-to-be sisters-in-law, as well as his brother (who was staying with a friend more near what Reginald considered to be "his part of town" – what that meant, Bert didn't want to ask.) The five conspirators met at the train and set out to the country, Joy thankfully having a copy of just the key Bert had been unable to swipe from Mary Poppins.

It wasn't until the group arrived at the estate (and they gazed at it in awe) that the eldest three of the group realized that neither Bernadette or Reginald had ever seen the Lily of the Valley estate. However, at least Bernadette has heard much about it, thus was more prepared for the grandeur of it. Reginald on the other hand was completely awe-struck by the size – he had no prior notion of how much money Mary Poppins truly came from.

"I knew it was a lot, but this," Bernadette trailed off, gesturing to the brilliant white manse before them.

Joy laughed it off – that was how nearly everyone reacted to this place she had spent every summer of her childhood in.

The marveling grew upon entering, Angel joining the other two in her gasps of admiration; she had photographs of the house itself, but had no memory of the interior. The three of them began wandering about, exchanging half-formed compliments and praises of the structure, old furniture, etc.

It was Bert's turn to laugh, and Joy rolled her eyes. They exchanged a look – Bert's seemingly apologetic and Joy's, surprise at seeing her future brother-in-law being one of the most mature people in the room.

"All right family," Bert called out, taking Joy's cue. He clapped his hands together once to gain their attention, and the sound echoed through the main hall, "we've a lot of ground to cover – rooms to air out, sweeping and beating and such to chase out any proof that this home hasn't been inhabited in years. Let's split up and get started."

Joy took the south wing for herself, Angel joined Reginald in the north. They commenced on the ground floor, so Bert and Bernadette decided to start in the attic. However, there was a particular room Joy had suggested he evaluate first on the top floor of the south wing; She thought it would make a good master bedroom. It had been converted to storage – like the majority of rooms – when the house was shut up so many years prior.

Upon entering, the pair realized they had quite a bit of work cut out for them: there were boxes and assorted furniture piled high. Other knickknacks and tapestries were lying about the neglected room where dust covered nearly every surface, seeping into the cracks of the walls and floorboards. Some pieces, they would discover, were in good enough condition to use in other parts of the house, but they had to sort through it all to come across those particular finds.

But even amid the clutter, Bert could feel how grand of a room it was – and had potential to be.

"And she said this used to be a nursery!" exclaimed an equally shocked Bernadette.

"Yes," Bert replied, walking over to the start of a riling which was tucked in the corner by the window, "and this must be the staircase that leads down into the nurse's chamber."

As they began to sort through the array of boxes and mismatched furniture, the pair kept up conversation, mostly about Mary Poppins. After all, Bert had lived with her longer than her youngest sister.

"Thank you for coming out today – I was worried you'd be too caught up with Clara," Bert added as they worked together to move an awkwardly shaped box off an overturned divan.

"Oh, I'm not working there anymore," she answered matter-of-factly.

"I'd taken the job after I confronted Father about… about what Mary told me," she began to clarify, "I needed to get out of his house, and becoming a nanny was the easiest option. But Angel and I are living together now – I'm not sure Father even knows she's changed allegiance." She added the last bit with a light-hearted chuckled, but Bert sensed the somberness behind her words. He'd grown up in such a close family, he could only imagine what it must be like to want to cut them out of her life.

"At least the Clara's father has taken more responsibility for her – and she's far less spoilt now, too." Bert could hear that she wished she still had that with her own father.

To distract herself from this sensitive topic, she switched the conversation to asking Bert what his plans for the room were. He was beyond thankful for that, as it made him realise that, aside from "the master bedroom,'' he had no clue what he wanted to do!

"Well, are you two going to be sharing the room?"

"I think the nanny's room could be a boudoir for Mary," Bert replied, more as a question than an answer.

"And does Mary know you're doing all this."

He shamefully shook his head from side to side.

"I was only asking as, if I know one thing about my sister, it's that she is very particular about how her rooms are decorated," she laughed.

Bert's eyebrows rose with an idea, but Bernadette sensed his suggestion before he managed to articulate it.

"Yes, I'll talk to my sisters about getting information from her," she said with a broad, satisfied smile.

They slowly made progress on the room, imagining new ways to decorate as more of the space was cleared. As the sun started setting out the west window, the twilight accentuated a sketchbook lying in a corner of dust and cobwebs.

Bert began flipping through the pages, impressed by the drawings of flowers and birds, landscapes and portraits.

"I think that's mum," Bernadette pointed out from over his shoulder. The sketch was of a young girl with golden green eyes and light blonde hair falling loosely past her shoulders and off the page. By her resemblance to Joy, Bert nodded in agreement with Bernadette's observation.

The drawing was dated 23 May, 1866, and written below in a long, neat had was a caption:

Jim brought Addie out into our Garden today. She did not seem very impressed by the wildness of it – she thinks gardens should be tame! Taming and controlling everything that grows may take an artistic eye, but it is far too artificial to truly appreciate the nature behind it. I am not so sure I like her, but Jim certainly fancies her, so I am trying to get along with her. Although I fear she is not very fond of me, she did like my drawing of her – how vain! – which I only made for Jim.

"Who drew this, I wonder."

Before Bert could check for her, she snatched the book from his hands. Flipping to the front, she asked, "Who is Elizabeth?"

Bert sighed. Of course it was Elizabeth's!

"It's a bit of a long story."

"Well, we've got time," she replied, gesturing around the darkening room. She found home matches and lit some of the assorted lamps and candles to make up for the dwindling natural light that was still straining to pour in.

As Bert recounted the last few months, the girl continued leafing through the pages of the sketchbook, occasionally putting up a dainty hand to pause the story and shared with him her discoveries. He had been telling her about the garden when she gasped and implored whether or not Mary had succeeded in finding a dress for the wedding after their failed outings.

"No," Bert drew out, wondering what had spurned her to ask such a question.

"Look what Elizabeth designed!" She turned the book around to show him the sketch of a white raw silk gown Elizabeth had drawn into the notebook.

It had a high lace collar which seemed to float over the shoulders. The sleeves were fitted, but flared out wide at the elbows, being finished with matching lace at the ends, falling beyond the hands of the figure. The bodice itself had pearl buttons going down the front. The skirt had five layers to it, each one flaring out more than the last, with additionally lace separating the tiers. There must have been lace on the petticoat as well, as she drew some peeking out of the hem as well.

Beside the skirt a note was written: "the newest fashions from Paris show cages to be less circular, so I've designed this with a fuller back and longer train to accommodate the new elliptical shape. If I was to actually come out during season, I'd love to wear this, but the fashions can change so much in just five years."

There were a few other scattered notes and sketches of bows and other accessories to be added to the back of the dress. Both Bert and Bernadette thought it was perfect, except...

"She doesn't want to go to a dressmaker, though," Bert groaned.

"But this was designed by her aunt!" the girl all but shouted in her excitement, "she'll love it – family is the most important thing to her. And," returning to Bert's side, "her father would have loved to see Mary in it, if he never got to see his sister wear her own dress."

Thus it was decided – the next day that the four eldest returned to the estate, Bernadette showed Mary Poppins the dress. She lied about where she found the sketch, when Mary enquired, saying Joy found it amid some of their fathers things she kept stored in her attic, and the bride excitedly agreed to go to a dressmaker to see if she could get it made up in under two weeks to have for her wedding.

As the two of them walked the streets, Mary let out a contented sigh. For as long as she could remember, she could not think of a time when she felt so peaceful. Everything was working itself out, and it made her feel as light as air. She subconsciously held onto Bernadette's arm as though it was the only thing keeping her from flying away.

The younger laughed at the dizzy smile Mary showed, and she patted her hand.

"You are going to make the most beautiful bride, dear."