Author's Note: So here it is, the conclusion. I hope it will make up for some of the drama in the last chapters. Thank you for reading, and if you could take a minute to comment I would greatly appreciate it.

When William finally went limp Mrs. Hargrave breathed a sigh of relief. She had been praying for this moment as soon as she'd made the first cut, but the brave, stubborn boy had held out until almost the very end. She had managed to feed most of the funnel's spout into the slit between his ribs she had cut before so that only about an inch was left. What if it wasn't long enough? Taking a deep breath the housekeeper pushed the length all the way into William's chest, and to her immesurable relief a hiss of air escaped, followed by a trail of watery blood which soon became a constant trickle. Some of it soaked into the sheet before she managed to get the pan underneath the funnel's lip to catch it.

"Is it... is it done?" Mr. Buxton looked at her with hopeful eyes framed by an ashen face. Mrs. Hargrave wondered if she was looking as weary. She certainly felt like it.

"Yes," the housekeeper replied. "It's done. The fluid is draining, and we should see an improvement in Master William's breathing very soon." She started to rise from her kneeling position on the floor but found that the joints and muscles in her legs had locked. Her struggle to regain her feet did not go unnoticed, and she suddenly found a supporting hand on her elbow, helping her first to stand, and then to sit in the armchair by the bed.

"Thank you, sir," she mumbled, uncomfortable with accepting this kind of assistance from her employer.

"No, Mrs. Hargrave, it is I who have to thank you. I will be forever in your debt. Without you..." Mr. Buxton's voice broke at the horrifying thought of having to watch his son choke to death on his own blood.

"Please don't mention it, sir, I'm just glad I could help. Master William is an admirable young man, and he deserves a long, happy life."

Mr. Buxton nodded thoughtfully. "You are right. I've never put much store in the notion of happiness, but almost losing your child has a tendency to rearrange your priorities."

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the bed, where Erminia still sat cradling her cousin's head in her lap. "Does that mean you'll give William and Peggy your blessing, uncle?"

"I need to have a think about that, but I will certainly consider it," her guardian replied, and Erminia lowered her face to hide a smile. It would take time for the old man to come to terms with changing his decision so radically, but it was a first step to reconciliation and ensuring William's happiness. Running her hand over the young man's wild curls she longed for the moment he would wake up. She couldn't wait to give him the encouraging news.

Mrs. Hargrave had recovered enough by then to remember that there was still one task to perform. She rose from the armchair and reached for the bottle of alcohol.

"When I removed the bandage I found that the wound on his back has started to become infected. We still need to clean it. Luckily it's very close to the side of his chest so we barely have to move him. Can I request your assistance one more time, Miss Erminia?"

"Always," the young woman said, looking up at the former nurse full of respect and gratitude.

"If my presence is not required, there are a few things I need to attend to," Mr. Buxton said, and with a slight bow to the two women he left the room. Walking into the entrance hall, he pulled the bell for stables. When the groom appeared, he instructed him to carry word to the surgeon that William was no longer in immediate danger. He did not want the doctor distracted while tending to a difficult case. When the lad had left Mr. Buxton noticed a sprig of gorse lying on a side table. He picked it up curiously. "Where did this come from?" he asked a maid who was lighting the wall sconces.

"Peggy Bell brought it by earlier. She asked to see Master William, but per your instructions I sent her away. She insisted on leaving this for him, though. I'm sorry, I didn't get around to throwing it out yet."

Mr. Buxton nodded thoughtfully before handing the small branch to the maid. "Put this in a glass of water and place it by William's bed," he instructed the surprised domestic before retiring to his study.

When the surgeon arrived later that night he was full of praise for their combined efforts in saving his patient. He replaced the funnel with a tube so the fluid could continue to drain while the lung was healing.

For a few days it was still touch and go. After everything he'd been through William's weakened body had little strength left to fight the infection in his back. When they had cleaned the wound after the operation, Mrs. Hargrave had noticed some streaks of dirt around its edges. They had only been able to give William a cursory wash when he'd been brought in muddied and bloody after the accident, since he required immediate medical attention. As a result, some kind of contaminant must have remained which entered the bloodstream when the rib broke through the skin.

Taking turns, the housekeeper, Erminia and Mr. Buxton kept a constant vigil by Williams side, applying cold compresses when his temperature spiked, stoking the fire and piling on blankets when he was racked by chills, and holding his hand when he cried out in anguish during his fever induced nightmares. But the times they feared the most was when he lay absolutely still, his breathing so shallow that they kept a small mirror by the bed to be able to satisfy themselves that he was even still alive.

William's youth and his strong constitution prevailed in the end, though, and his fever finally broke. The whole household rejoiced when he opened his eyes for the first time in days, and the kitchen staff went into overdrive, preparing all his favorite meals to help him regain his strength.

Feeling as weak as a kitten at first, William readily succumbed to being coddled and pampered, but as he slowly started getting stronger he became a very difficult and uncooperative patient. He was going out of his mind with boredom, although Erminia tried to distract him by reading out loud or by inventing word games and riddles. She also came to dread his constant enquiries about Peggy. The young woman had stopped by the house every day, leaving a sprig of gorse which was faithfully delivered to William's bedside. But in spite of his moment of contrition following his son's brush with death, Mr. Buxton had so far neither addressed the matter of marriage to Peggy Bell, nor had he lifted his ban on the young woman entering his house. And William was smart enough not to raise the issue with his father until he was strong enough to hold his own in a heated discussion.

So far the surgeon had only allowed William to leave his bed for short spells, so the young man was delighted when the doctor declared him fit enough to get dressed and leave his room, under the provision not to unduly exert himself, and to wear his still healing arm in a sling at all times.

Getting dressed with the help of his father's valet tired William more than he cared to admit, but the prospect of finally leaving these four walls was too tempting, and he put on a game face when Erminia came to take him to the drawing room across the hallway. At first the young man scoffed at his cousin's offer of assistance, but after he'd made it across his room he was glad to take her arm, and by the time they reached their destination he was leaning on her quite heavily. With a tired sigh he sank onto the sofa and leaned back, closing his eyes while waiting for his wildly beating heart to slow.

William had insisted on bringing the sprig of gorse with the buds along. It was the first one Peggy had delivered on that fateful day, and it had grown roots in the water so it could be potted in soil. When Erminia put the small white flower pot on a side table she noted William's panting breaths and quickly re-arranged the pillows so he could stretch out on the settee. Resting his head on his good arm, the injured one safely cradled in its sling across his chest, William drifted off into an exhausted sleep almost immediately.

Mr. Buxton had been away on business and was therefore unaware of his son's little excursion. So it came as a surprise to find William asleep on the sofa when he entered the drawing room in search of a book. Stepping closer, he ran his eyes over his son's figure, finally settling on his face. Some color had returned to the young man's features, and his cheeks had begun to fill our again, thanks to the delicacies forced on him by the kitchen staff. He looked content and healthy, such a stark contrast to when he was fighting for his life. Mrs. Hargrave's words about him deserving a long and happy life came back to Mr. Buxton, and looking at his son's tranquil and almost angelic face the last bits of the old man's pride and prejudice melted away.

When he was interrupted in his musings by a knock on the front door, he knew immediately who it was. Peggy's daily visits were as regular as clockwork. With a last indulging smile for his son, Mr. Buxton went to answer the door himself, and to invite the young woman into his house and his family.

The End

Another note: This is the part where I return to the events shown in the series; what follows here is the scene where Peggy finds William asleep on the sofa.