The last of the carriages finally clattered away from Heyrick House after the impromptu opening night celebration for Arthur's Theater Royal. Everyone had been suitably toasted with fine champagne – from the evening's star performers to the prop-master's assistant – and as Mr. John Thadeus Delane had taken leave of the town for a long ride back to London in the deluxe coach provided by The Times, there was nothing left to do but await the morning papers.

Arthur Parker was so beside himself with happiness that he even allowed his brother to take the lion's-share of credit for the idea of the theater. "As I told my dear brother from the very start," Tom Parker said with his glass raised, "Sanditon could not truly be seen as a premiere seaside destination without a center of theatrical excellence, and what a fine job Arthur has done in bringing that idea to life! To Arthur Parker, our unofficial Minister of Culture for Sanditon! Take a bow, Arthur!"

Blushing vibrantly, Arthur stammered, "Oh, I couldn't possibly… oh, well, of course…" To which he gave a deeply dramatic bow to the applause of all watching.

Mrs. Wheatley was finally able to scuttle the girls off to bed, and Samuel found himself alone with Marie. The sudden echoing silence of the foyer combined with the bright moon overhead caused him to grasp her hand and pull her gently into the night.

"Take a walk with me," he said softly.

Marie was glowing with the triumphs of the evening. Her blonde curls were more pronounced than usual after being pinned up under various wigs and headgear, and her skin was bright and shining. Samuel had come to love the particular aroma of the heavy lavender oil Marie used to remove her stage makeup, and now it wafted to him on a slight nighttime breeze.

"I want to tell you how wonderful you were tonight," Samuel said, "But after the rousing accolades you have already been given, I fear I will exhibit more of a lawyer's precision and less of a poet's eloquence."

Marie laughed softly. "Then tell me precisely how wonderful I was."

Samuel pulled her closer and looked up at the moon. "As I watched you on the stage, I found myself wondering how a creature as exquisite as you could love someone like me."

Stopping and looking up at him, she said, "You are selling yourself short, as usual, Sam. And that was quite poetic…" She leaned up and kissed him gently. "I do love you. Very much."

Samuel's hand went slowly to his pocket, which held a small velvet pouch. Eva had helped him choose from Abigail's jewelry box, where he had found a gold ring with four modest diamonds around a small ruby. It was stunningly beautiful, and it reminded him of Marie – quick to sparkle, but also as quiet and understated as she was in the moments with only him as her audience.

They were at the edge of the pond, just a few feet from the bench where, unbeknownst to them, Alexander had first proposed to Charlotte. They could see the greenhouse in the near distance, shining like a second moon and lending its reflected light to the water, where frogs and crickets were composing harmonies together.

Samuel took a deep breath and gazed at her for a short while, while she tilted her head in a question. Then, to her surprise, he bent down on one knee and removed the small pouch from his pocket.

Marie gasped as her hand went to her mouth and her eyes grew wide. Yes, they had talked about marriage, but she realized in this instant that nothing could have prepared her for the feelings that suddenly rose up in her, seeing Sam's eyes bright and his breath coming fast as he reached out and took her hand.

"As I said, I am not a poet. All I can tell you is that for the first time in my life I know what all the fuss is about. I understand now why men write poetry…" Seeing a flicker of a smile on Marie's face, Samuel laughed and said, "Yes, I know that women also write poetry, and you must not interrupt or I will never get through this."

Marie mimed a key locking her lips and then she threw the key over her shoulder.

Taking a breath, Samuel continued. "I understand that you are a free spirit, and I have no wish to pin you down, or to curb your magnificently creative soul – I only wish to walk beside you, or fly beside you, if that is required." Marie laughed softly, and a tear streaked slowly down her cheek. "I do love you so completely, my dear Marie, and I hope you will consider accepting my hand in marriage."

She had already contemplated it so fully that no further thought was required, though she felt the need to make a few things clear. "As long as you understand that all actresses are mad as loons and must always be the center of attention, that you will find hairpins in our bed and trousers in our wardrobe, and you will be required to tell me I am good even when I am not…"

Samuel laughed, standing up and taking her in his arms. "And that you will speechify and protest, and take forever and a day to answer one simple question…"

"Yes!" Marie said, throwing her arms around his neck. "Yes, I will marry you!"

Holding her tightly, Samuel said, "That is very good, because I had no rebuttal prepared…" Moving back slightly, he slipped the ring onto her finger and kissed it. On a deep breath, he met her lips with his, and again the only sounds around them were nightbirds, the songs from the pond, and their own soft sighs.

Marie pulled away and looked into his eyes. "I am so happy. How could a night be more perfect than this one?"

"It could not," Samuel said, leading her over to the bench. "Look at that moon. It came out just for us." He sat down and Marie snuggled in under his arm.

"Is it not a miracle," Marie said softly, "How many small choices have led to this very moment? We could have encountered each other easily enough in London, but did not. It took us traveling to this small seaside town…"

"Which is also my home," Samuel said, brushing her hair back from her face tenderly.

Marie nodded and looked up at him. "Yes, then I suppose it took me finding my way to your boyhood home. 'Fortune, turn thy wheel.'"

Samuel looked at her. "I see I shall be brushing up on my Shakespeare with you." He closed his eyes and thought, then tilted his head. "Much Ado About Nothing?"

Marie turned and smiled broadly. "Yes! Nicely done, solicitor."

Samuel said proudly, "I can be taught." Kissing her on the cheek, he murmured, "So we have decided to make our home in Sanditon?"

Nodding, Marie said, "Yes. I believe we have."

"Arthur will be thrilled. You are his pride and joy, and that gives me great happiness. He is the best kind of man there is, and deserves only success." Samuel looked out at the pond. "And as of tonight, you will cost him even less than you would have yesterday."

Marie turned and looked at him, questioning.

Shrugging, Samuel said, "I assume you and I will live here at Heyrick House? We can have practically an entire wing to ourselves."

"Oh," Marie said. "Yes…" It wasn't the first she had thought of it, but now it took on much more detail in her mind. "With Charlotte and Alexander, and the girls, and Eva." She smiled brilliantly at him. "Oh, I should love that, Sam. You know I have never really had a family, and to be brought into this one – such a lovely family – would mean the world to me."

"And they all love you so dearly already. Between you and Charlotte and your forward thinking, Leonora will find herself in the House of Lords someday," he said, laughing.

With seriousness, Marie said, "And well she could! The child is very astute!"

Samuel hugged her tightly. "Well she could," he repeated softly into her hair. "And what of your career? Will you be satisfied with the simple praise of this little fishing village?"

Marie nodded. "Absolutely. The performance tonight was the first time I have not had to deal with drunkards in the pit, and the loud and lascivious comments from said drunkards." She shook her head. "Do you know that I have never been able to utilize the entire stage before? When I attempted it in London, I would find hands around my ankles or grabbing at my skirts. It was less a performance and more a wrestling match! Sanditon's audiences are genteel and respectful – not to mention the joy of looking up and seeing your face and those of other loved ones gazing down at me. It is as close to Heaven as an actress can get, I should think."

Samuel paused. "I hesitate to say this, but feel I must go on record just once," he said tentatively. "I know how much you love what you do, but I hope you realize that you never need to work another day in your life. I do not expect you to choose that path, but I want you to know it is open to you."

"You are very sweet, and the truth is, I want children, as I know you do." Marie was a woman of the world, but if Samuel could see her in normal light, he would notice a blush coming across her cheeks. "Knowing that I can break from work in order to raise children, and then go back to it, pleases me exceedingly."

Samuel laughed softly. "Children. I suppose that means I shall finally have to grow up myself, does it not?"

"Never," Marie said, leaning up and kissing his cheek. "We shall all be children together. And I shall go from playing ingenues to aunts to dowagers to crones in that lovely theater in this wonderful town with my extraordinarily handsome husband."

Marie turned and looked at him. "And what of your career? Will you find enough to do here?"

"Yes, I believe I will. I have discovered something since I have been home. Advocacy is not so much a career for me as it is a calling. I should like to open an office and offer my services and counsel at no charge for those who are unable to afford it. It is not as if we are not fully aware of the financial situations of those in this town simply by virtue of the work they do – so it shall be on a case-by-case basis."

Marie laughed. "So it naturally follows that you will double Lady Denham's fees…"

"Precisely!" Samuel said, nodding. "But as an example, Tom is always in need of some kind of legal counsel or other, and we all know how close to the bone he has caused himself to be." He looked back toward Heyrick House. "For all of his faults, Tom is truly the one who has brought us all together. Had he not had the vision of Sanditon, you and I would still be toiling away in London, Charlotte would have married a farmer in Willingden, and Alexander would still be strung tight as a drum and lashing out in his pain. Tom is a dreamer, and the world needs dreamers."

For a long moment, they both gazed out at the scene in front of them under the bright light of the moon.

"I am to be your wife," Marie said dreamily.

"Yes," Samuel said, leaning down to kiss her. "You are."

Journal Entry:

Tuesday 12th June 1821

Paris, France

Simply writing the words above takes on an unearthly quality for this farm girl from Willingden. When Alison and I would lie in candlelight reading La Belle et la Bête to sharpen our French, we would lose ourselves in thoughts of the alternative lives of girls being raised on farms in France rather than England. Three days ago, Alexander and I passed through farmlands filled with young French girls who may perhaps dream one day of seeing London. We are travelers, all of us, wondering what mystery lies over the next hill, or across the wide ocean.

And now I have seen just a sliver more of my surroundings; not only the lush green of French farmlands but a city that is half the size of London yet feels as if it encompasses all the world. Men of gravity and women of fashion, pushing babies in prams through crowds speaking every language in the world. Children who know not that they are exposed daily to the most avant-garde thinking, art, cuisine, culture, and philosophy to be found, but absorbing it nonetheless.

Yet I find that Paris impresses me less with its importance to fashion or society, and more with the strength of its human spirit. Even misguided Napoleon, now exiled, has left his indelible mark on this glorious city, in its sense of itself as a place where anything is possible and all dreams can come true.

For this breathtaking honeymoon, a dream of mine is coming true – no, in truth, many dreams. Not only seeing Paris, but so many unexpected gifts are being handed to me. For there are the places and things we know we want to see and experience, and then there are those things that we have not even the imagination to dream about.

Alexander, my husband, my one true love, is an ongoing surprise. I fall more deeply in love with him as each day passes. He sparks my imagination, feeds my mind and causes my nights to be filled with such discovery and pure pleasure that it is futile for me to attempt a description here. At last I understand the inadequacy of words to which so many authors have alluded. This love, in all its diverse parts, cannot be sufficiently captured on the page – yet still I can comprehend how its timeless spirit has inspired the greatest works of art and literature the world can possess.

Today we managed to leave the flat much earlier, which gave us ample time to walk the Musée du Louvre, and it was a very good thing, as the collections are extensive and magnificent and took the better part of the day. I believe I could have spent the entire week of our honeymoon wandering those long hallways with each turn offering a new wonder of antiquities, painting, sculpture, drawings, and tapestries. And as the buildings themselves served as the Royal Palace until Louis XIV moved it to Versailles, one could stand and gaze for hours at the architecture itself, the wall panels, and the exquisitely painted ceilings with cherubim flying overhead, without setting eyes on even one exhibit…

"How would one paint those ceilings in the Louvre?" Alexander asked, looking up at the ornate tin ceiling above him on the bed. He raised his arm up, as if he had a paintbrush in his hand. "I suppose much as Michelangelo did the Sistine Chapel. On his back."

Charlotte smiled. "And how did you know I was just this moment writing about those ceilings?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Returning her smile, Alexander rolled his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, walking toward her. "Because, my love, not only our hearts, but our very thoughts, are connected." He leaned down behind her and raised her hair gently from the back of her neck, placing his lips there and making her shiver slightly with the warmth of his breath as he spoke. "Let that be a warning to curb any thoughts you should not like me to sense…"

Charlotte put down her pencil and raised her arm over his head, hugging him closer and leaning back in her chair. "And what am I thinking now?" she asked softly, closing her eyes.

"That it is time for you to stop being profoundly literary and come to bed. It is nearly midnight and we have another full day tomorrow." Alexander continued his kisses from her neck, sliding her nightdress slowly over her shoulder.

Laughing, Charlotte said, "I am beginning to understand why an author such as Jane Austen preferred to remain unmarried," Charlotte said. "It must have lessened the temptations of the flesh considerably."

Reluctantly ending his journey down her arm, Alexander exhaled and stood up. "I should not want to be responsible for denying the world the brilliance of your writing, so I shall desist," he said, sighing dramatically.

Charlotte turned in her chair and looked up at him. "That would assume I want you to," she said, standing and putting her arms around his neck.

Laughing softly, Alexander raised an eyebrow. "I seem to be receiving conflicting messages from my wife…"

"I will write more tomorrow. Take me to bed, husband," Charlotte said, placing her lips on his. "Is that clear enough?"

His words were muffled against her lips. "Like fine crystal," he said softly, lifting her into his arms and fully prepared to do her bidding.

Tuesday 12th June 1821

Heyrick Park, Sanditon

Miss Sarah Kingsley

Lily Cottage

Coral Bay Beach

St. John Virgin Islands

My dear Sarah,

I cannot tell you how often I have thought of you, and how very happy I was to hear that you were alive and living in the Islands. I have learned all of the particulars of your story on Antigua, though I hope for a chance to hear them from your own lips – for as we know, stories take on a life of their own once they leave our control, and can often deviate sharply from the full truth.

You may or may not have recently received a letter from Mr. Samuel Colbourne, whom you will remember as a seven-year-old boy the last time you saw him. He is now a solicitor and he wrote to find you at the behest of your daughter, Miss Georgiana Lambe.

I am writing to you also, in hopes that you will know that this missive is driven by no other motive than my love for you and your beautiful girl, and that I will give you the unvarnished truth as I know it.

We want you to come home – if you can still find it in your heart to call Heyrick Park home. Your daughter is safe, and any who would wish her harm have been vanquished, either by God's hand or by love. Her fortune is assured, and there is absolutely nothing your appearance in Sanditon could do to put that, or her, in danger.

Your presence is wished for fervently by all – but most especially by Georgiana, who holds your precious shell necklace to her breast as if she takes life from it. She has grown into the most exquisite woman – with a lively intellect, a full and open heart, a sharp wit and a clear sense of how the world turns. She is the bright future of our freedom, Sarah. She honors her heritage and though she pushes forward into a society that may try to subjugate her, she will not allow it. She knows her value and it is not in shillings or pounds – it is in what she can contribute to move humanity forward. She is a wonder and you will be so very proud of her.

She is in need of nothing – save her mother.

Georgiana has fallen in love, and surprisingly, it is with Lawrence Lambe's nephew, Charles Lockhart. We can tell you how that all came about once you get here, but they are both passionate and creative people, and their love for each other is a great pleasure to see.

Since, as I said, we are aware of the full story – Alexander and Samuel know now that Georgiana is their sister by blood, and they have folded her into their family and their lives completely. You will be so pleased to find what a happy place Heyrick Park is now. There are children and dogs and laughter and great hope for the future. A future that we desire so strongly to include you.

Georgiana is marrying Charles in mid-July, which gives you ample time to sail here. I have not told her that I am contacting you, as I would not wish for her to be disappointed if for some reason you cannot come. I asked Charles, who is a fine artist, to render a small painting of Georgiana, enclosed here, so that you can see for yourself what a beauty your daughter has become.

I realize you may have found a life there in the Islands, and if you have married or have children, please know that they are also welcome here. Samuel and Alexander want only what will bring about Georgiana's happiness. I have enclosed a ticket for your passage to Plymouth Harbor, and will send a carriage to bring you from there to Heyrick Park. If you need more tickets for family, simply write back and I will make arrangements with the shipping line.

Know above all that there is love for you here. And family. And a home.

Your dearest,

Eva Wheatley

When they awoke the next morning, Charlotte and Alexander felt momentary dismay that there were gray clouds filling the sky and a deluge falling outside onto their terrace. But they learned as all Parisians do that a shower descends in heavy drops when it comes, but is forgotten the moment it is over – and when it is over, the blue sky and fresh air that appears is like a newly cleaned window – better than before.

So it took only the time for them to have breakfast and wash and dress before the sun was out and the terrace was dry. The summer dust had been washed from the sidewalks and roads, and Paris was on fine display again.

They decided to walk, as they dearly loved it and Charlotte felt that in a carriage, so much was passing her by. The sounds and smells wafting from doorways, the excitement of the crowds, and the conversation of the people walking nearby was what she found she craved.

Their path today took them to the Champs Élysées, a wide boulevard at the end of which stood the as-yet-unfinished Arc de Triomphe, commissioned by Napoleon to honor those who had fought and died for France in the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars. It had been begun in 1805, and by the time Alexander and Charlotte saw it, was but sixty feet high. When completed, it would stand at an impressive one-hundred-and-thirty-five feet high and be visible from much of Paris.

Charlotte squinted into the lowering sun down the long street, looking at the beginnings of the double columns that would serve as the foundations for the arch. "I would very much like to see it when it is finished," she said.

Alexander smiled and followed her gaze. "Well, as it has taken more than fifteen years to reach this stage of construction, we shall return for our fifteenth wedding anniversary to measure its progress."

Charlotte turned in shock. "Oh, I hope we shall return before that!" When she saw the twinkle in Alexander's eyes, she tilted her head at him. "You are teasing me, my love."

"I will bring you back anytime you wish," he said, pulling her toward him.

Hugging close to his arm, Charlotte said, "The next time we come here, we can bring the girls. Next year, perhaps? Augusta would be charmed by so much of the city's knowledge and beauty, and Leo would love the statues of soldiers brandishing swords in the air, do you not think?"

"It would be wonderful to have them here. And if we take another week, we can hire a carriage to take us to the Loire Valley, just south of the city. There are hundreds of spectacular châteaux. Some of them were built as castles as far back as the tenth century, and they will certainly have enough ramparts to delight Leonora and more elegant rooms than Augusta will be able to absorb."

"I should love that," Charlotte sighed. She smiled and looked up at Alexander. "And then, there is always Italy…"

Laughing, Alexander said, "I despair of ever seeing Heyrick Park again attached to a wife blessed with such wanderlust."

Grimacing, Charlotte said, "And I also adore Heyrick Park, and Sanditon. And I would miss our horse rides, and Eva, and Samuel, and Georgiana…" She sighed deeply. "Why must we always miss some people and places in order to enjoy others?"

"It is the way of things. But it is what makes returning home such an unmitigated joy."

They had walked for quite a long while, and the sun was now out in force, so Alexander suggested they stop at a restaurant with small tables under bright blue umbrellas, to share a sparkling lemonade and a lunch of savory lamb and vegetables, paté and cheeses with small strawberry tarts for dessert.

"I believe I will endeavor to teach Leonora the Italian language so that I might learn it myself," Charlotte said, as yet another group breezed past them speaking of their home in Naples. "It is an extraordinarily colorful language and similar enough to French that it should not be too difficult."

"Samuel and I were subjected to Latin first, and then French, by our governess. And considering how sadly lacking she told us we were in those two fine languages, she would not attempt a third," Alexander said, his jaw tightening.

Charlotte touched his face where she saw the muscles tense. "Do you know that you have never told me her name?"

"Miss Henrietta Bowbrick," Alexander said slowly, his teeth clenched. "Samuel and I called her Brickface behind her back, which was apt, as her face resembled nothing so much as a sheet of granite. Pasty, pockmarked, hard and gray. I cannot tell you of the quality of her teeth, because I never once saw her smile."

"I am sorrier than I can say that you had to endure that," Charlotte said softly, raising the crisp white napkin to her lips.

Alexander turned to her, his eyes soft again. "I still cannot imagine what I was thinking when I brought her up in your interview. I had never done that before, to share something so intensely personal upon only just meeting someone. There are people I have known for years who know nothing of her."

Charlotte merely looked up at him and nodded while she finished her tart. She had found that by staying silent with Alexander, he would be likely to say more, so she simply waited.

He smiled and looked out at the boulevard. "Do you remember what you replied?" he asked her, his voice soft.

"I believe I said I felt very sorry for you and your brother, and I was. I could not imagine such a violent upbringing. I thought immediately of my little brothers Graham and Samuel, and the idea of a leather belt being used on them brought me nearly to tears."

Alexander nodded and put his hand over hers on the table. "Just for my reference, it was much too personal to share in an interview, was it not?" He gazed at her and Charlotte realized he was feeling unsure about whether he had handled the situation well.

She thought for a moment and then said firmly, "No. It made you decidedly human. You can be quite imposing when you choose, you know? And intimidating. The way you launched those questions at me, while showing me so little regard, was a bit like being on a firing line. When you shared that you had been badly treated, it opened my heart to why you were behaving that way. It opened my heart to you."

"Only you, my sweet Charlotte, would find a path to open your heart to the man that I was." He shook his head. "I fought you at every turn, and yet you continued to ask me to look at myself until I could not imagine my life without you."

Smiling back at him, Charlotte said, "I could not prevent it. I found myself falling in love with you – and as I learned more of your story, as you opened up to me, that tender feeling only deepened."

Alexander sighed. "I felt a fraud for so many years. My bluster was merely to cover how unfit I felt to be not only managing an estate the size of Heyrick, but to be raising two young girls. It was not until you appeared, like some sort of angel, that I began to feel I had any control at all." He raised her hand and kissed it.

"And you are naturally so good at all of it – Heyrick Park, the girls, and above all, the way you love me. I could not wish for more."

They moved closer and sat in silence, as Paris performed a lovely dance in front of them. Carriage drivers saluting each other en passant, holding their whips and reins in one hand and tipping their hats with the other. A flower-girl who resembled Leonora walked by with a basket that held, among other blooms, the bleuet de France, a French cornflower that was coming to symbolize remembrance for soldiers. Alexander purchased two bouquets at a sous each and sent her off with a shiny gold guinea and wonder in her eyes. Keeping a watchful eye on her was a Gendarme, wearing a crisp blue-and-white uniform, his eyes sharply trained for pickpockets or other troublemakers hiding in the crowds.

Charlotte leaned her head on Alexander's shoulder and found her eyelids growing heavy. She reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch. "Four o'clock," she said sleepily. "How can I be tired?"

Alexander kissed her lightly on the top of her head. "Because we have walked for miles, the sun is warm, and we have just eaten. Add to that the fact that I finally pulled you away from your writing at midnight, and…" He whispered into her ear, "...it took us some time to get to sleep after that… It is no wonder we are tired. If we were in Spain, we would be joined by most of the population in a siesta."

Stifling a yawn, Charlotte said, "Well, then, can we pretend that we are in Spain? I am not certain I can keep my eyes open for another minute."

Calling for the check, Alexander nodded. "Let us be Spaniards then. And as they sleep during the heat of the day so that they may enjoy the cool of the night, perhaps we will do the same, and venture out for a moonlight boat ride on the Seine…" He looked down at Charlotte's face, and to his wonder, she looked to be asleep, her lips in a small pout and her cheeks pink.

Laughing softly, he paid the bill and asked the maitre d' to call a carriage. "I do not believe we will be walking back to the hotel," he said, smiling up at the gentleman.

As he waited for the carriage to pull up to the curb, Alexander let Charlotte sleep, enjoying the feel of her close to him, warm and trusting.

What he did not know, and she would not know for several weeks, was that there were processes beginning in his wife's body that were drawing energy away in preparation for a miracle.

Charlotte was already sleeping for two.