A/N: Thanks ever so much for all those who reviewed, followed and favorited this fic. The last two chapters have been very bittersweet for me to write, and I miss Stuart already. This turned into more of a bonus chapter than a true epilogue. I hope you enjoy it. (FYI: This definitely has M elements in it, so please be warned.)

Epilogue

Eliza lay in William's arms, looking at her sparkling ring in the lamplight. His breath was deep and even, one arm wrapped around her, holding her to his bare chest, possessive even in sleep. For so long, she'd resisted the idea of marriage, thinking it would hold her back, that she must give up her ambitions and stay at home. She felt a pang for other women who didn't have a man who respected her like William did, who had faith in her abilities outside of housekeeping (good thing for him, she thought with a self-deprecating grin). It hadn't been easy for William to give up his own traditional ideals of women, but his acceptance of who she was, paired with her willingness to trust and commit to him, had led them to this miraculous place, to this miraculous ring of a simple sapphire and diamonds.

They were halfway to London now, and William had made arrangements for the captain of the ship to perform their wedding ceremony in the morning.* They couldn't wait, they'd found, to fully consummate their relationship. She would have gladly risked all, but William wanted the safety net of a marriage contract should she conceive. She supposed she shouldn't blame him for that; if her reputation was ruined by an ill-timed pregnancy, they'd have an even more difficult time attracting new clients. She had read of the various ways to prevent pregnancy until she was ready to start a family—something else she no longer feared, but would like to put off, for a while at least—and William had blushingly told her he'd procure French Letters when they got to London. In the meantime, there were other ways they could make do with. The thought of a small, curly haired boy who looked like William made her feel warm inside, not frightened, but William had agreed to wait, thinking for his part of their financial situation, which was fine with her. Once their business was afloat, there'd be time for them to consider having children. She smiled again to think of herself, great with child, shadowing a suspect through the dark alleys of London. She knew that notion would be a battle with William, but they'd cross that bridge when they came to it, and she had faith now they'd find a compromise.

Eliza quietly yawned, her eyelids heavy after the excitement of his proposal, then the pleasure of their celebration. She shivered, remembering how he'd groaned in her ear, "I don't know how much longer I can survive without being inside of you." Then there were some impassioned words in Gaelic, accompanied by the sounds of ecstasy his hands and mouth had wrung from her. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered if it were possible for life to be any more perfect.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

William couldn't remember ever being as happy as the moment he said "I will," at the simple ceremony held on the upper deck of The Celtic, the sharply pressed captain wore the blue dress she'd worn on their last night in New York, her hair in the only style she could manage without Ivy—a simple bun, from which curling tendrils escaped in the sea breeze to blow about her rosy cheeks. Her caerulean eyes shining with unshed tears, she looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. Her engagement ring became her wedding ring, and his, the Claddagh ring that had been his father's, the only one of his possessions that had survived the workhouse and that William had kept even in the face of his own hunger. A few passengers had witnessed the occasion and had applauded and whistled when their kiss had gone on longer than was socially acceptable.

They toasted each other with champagne in the dining room, ate their fill of rashers and eggs for their wedding breakfast, taking their plates of cake and the rest of the bottle to their first-class stateroom (a wedding gift from the captain). They undressed each other slowly; now that they didn't have to wait, they found themselves taking their time, building their desire. He kissed each exposed area of skin, took the time to suckle each breast until she was gasping and tugging at his hair almost painfully. He smiled against her flat belly before lifting her and carrying her to bed. She lay there, looking up at him, her chest rapidly rising and falling, and he allowed himself a few moments to admire her loveliness. She held out an inviting hand, her gaze filled with undisguised love.

"Join me…Husband."

He took her hand and, bringing her palm to his lips, closed his eyes before pressing it against his cheek. Then, with a mischievous smile, he divested himself of his drawers and covered her with his body. The moment he felt her, naked beneath him, he became overwhelmed with desire, and his passion became frenzied, excited when he realized he would finally have her completely. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, his mouth following, arousing them both to nearly unbearable heights. He could hardly hear her pleas for release over the pounding in his ears, and he forced himself to pause. Her pretty knees were bent, forming a soft cradle for his hardness. Her hands clutched at his back, trying to draw him in closer.

"Don't stop, William," she begged.

He smiled down at her, managing to gently touch her lips with his. "Still so bossy," he whispered raggedly, before he dipped his hips and slid inside.

He met her barrier, and he paused again as he felt her tense. "Are ye all right, lass?" he asked through gritted teeth, his control hanging by a thread.

"Yes, please…just do it. I-I know it—it might hurt…"

"Just the first time," he said, and, kissing her to distract her, plunged deeper.

He swallowed her brief cry, but knew he must continue on, praying it would get better for her. Instinctively, her hips rose to meet his. The intense pleasure of feeling her surrounding him, of being as close to her as he possibly could, made him suddenly forget himself, and he moved within in her with a long moan. In true Eliza fashion, she impatiently dug her heels into his buttocks, and he gave a throaty chuckle as she tried to take control.

"If you don't stop that, this will be over sooner than either of us would like," he told her.

He found her hands and pinned them on either side of her head, unashamed, at least this time, to exert his masculine strength over her. This was one area he understood a little better than she did. Had she struggled to get free he would have let her, but she did not, and he relished the minor victory.

"But I want…" she couldn't seem to articulate what that was, but William could certainly guess.

"Patience, love. Just follow my lead."

"I'm not very good at that," she said, and he couldn't help but laugh at the understatement.

"Next time, you can be on top."

Before she could argue further, he began to move, trying to establish a rhythm. As with everything else, Eliza was a quick study, and soon it felt like they'd been doing this forever. He freed her hands and he felt them glide over his back again before holding on for dear life as he quickened the pace. He became impatient himself as his impending climax loomed large, remembering almost belatedly to reach between them to touch her. She shuddered against him, tightening around him at the same time. He moaned involuntarily, his climax slamming into him, and he was only just able to pull out of her in time. He collapsed on top of her, perspiration covering them both, their breaths heavy, uneven, as aftershocks still trembled through them.

"Eliza," was his awed whisper, other words failing him.

William had had many lovers in his life, but never had he truly felt a part of a woman until now; until his wife. He had joined with her in every sense of the word, and it humbled him to realize he'd wasted his life with mindless shags when he might have had this every time with Eliza. Then again, as a younger man he likely would not have appreciated this gift she'd given him. It was ironic how the world worked.

"I love you, William," she said. "I'm glad that we waited."

"You're admitting I was right then?"

"Consider it my wedding present, and as I only intend to be married once…"

William had recovered enough to raise his head and look at her. "Don't worry; I won't let it go to my head." And then he kissed her smiling lips.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Do you think Ivy will be upset that we got married without her?" Eliza asked her husband sometime later, over cake in bed. They'd forgotten forks, so they took turns feeding each other, kissing between each bite. He leaned in to lick a smear of white frosting at the corner of her mouth, and she closed her eyes and shivered at the arousing sensation.

"If so, we can have a church ceremony in London to make it up to her. I'm more worried about Fitzroy's disappointment that he wasn't here to be my best man."

Eliza laughed, pulling the sheet up that had dipped precariously low over her breasts. "Poor Fitzroy. He's been so lost without you at Scotland Yard. This might finally do him in."

William opened his mouth for his next bite of cake, noting she was none too careful avoiding getting it on his beard. He'd make her pay for that, the minx. "Perhaps once Scarlet and Wellington gets going, we'll hire him away from the Yard."

"That's a wonderful idea!" she proclaimed. "Wouldn't that just be the icing on the…William…"

While they were talking, William had loaded his finger with a thick swipe of frosting. Her heartbeat quickened as she realized the intent in his eyes. With his other hand, he slowly drew down the sheet, exposing her breasts to his appreciative gaze and a glob of vanilla buttercream. She trembled as he took his time, painting her with frosting. He paused to admire his artwork, before meeting her heavy-lidded eyes with a predatory gleam. He ducked his head and began to lick her clean until the rest of their cake was completely forgotten.

Little did William know that this would become a celebratory ritual for every anniversary that was to come.

Their first anniversary, they fully utilized the whipped cream from Eliza's own Victoria Sponge. William proclaimed it the best cake he'd ever had.

Their fifth found them in Paris, making do with the praline crème from the aptly named Paris-Brest cake (childish giggles not withstanding).

Their tenth, which coincided with their son, Henry's first birthday party, found them having to explain to Ivy how they'd gotten chocolate buttercream all over her clean white sheets. She didn't believe the innocent version, that William had eaten a midnight snack in bed, although he swore to Ivy with a discreet wink at Eliza that he wasn't lying. Ivy had raised her eyebrows at Eliza's flushed cheeks.

And on and on the many years and the many cakes passed, until their fiftieth anniversary, when Henry (who now ran Scarlet and Wellington), their daughter-in-law, and their four grandchildren gathered round the dining room table in the house where they'd spent all their married lives. Fitzroy and his wife arrived, having picked up the cake from the bakery, a coconut layer cake with white buttercream. A soft tap at the kitchen door admitted another guest, a gray-haired Jamaican with a silver-topped cane. William gave the man his usual scowl for a greeting, but they shook hands anyway, before a grinning Eliza kissed Moses's wrinkled cheek in welcome. On the wall, Ivy and Mr. Potts smiled down on them from their wedding picture, alongside that of her father and mother, and Eliza spared them a melancholy glance.

As the cake was served, William followed his wife's gaze to the images of those they'd loved and lost. Under the table, he found his wife's thin hand and squeezed it gently. Nearing eighty, they were both white haired and bespectacled, but the years had been kind. Henry still came to them for advice on cases, even though the detective agency employed twenty other detectives, some of whom occasionally helped the British Secret Service.

When Eliza and William had successfully foiled an assassination plot against Queen Victoria some forty-five years before, it had launched their agency into the public eye, especially when the Queen had met and thanked them herself, impressed that a female detective had been directly responsible for saving her life. A blessing from the Queen had gone a long way toward making their agency the most respected in England.

"Mother, Father," Henry was saying, as he raised his glass of champagne to toast them. "I know I haven't always made things easy for you—" a round of laughing agreement met his words—"but you have been the best parents a son could have, and I am proud to say, the best example of a married couple. I always knew that beneath all that bickering, there was true love and respect, and a true partnership between you in every way. Mary and I have done our best to emulate that, and we pray our own marriage will be as long and as inspiring as yours. To the happy couple, on their fiftieth wedding anniversary, and to many more to come!"

"To the happy couple," their family and friends echoed.

"And to Henry, on his forty-first birthday," chimed in Mary. There was a chorus of Happy Birthday wishes.

As the cake was served, their youngest granddaughter, Scarlet, noticed her grandparents weren't eating their cake.

"Do you not like the cake, Grans?" (Grans was her plural for them both).

"Of course we do, darling," said Eliza. "It's lovely, and our very favorite." She avoided her husband's sparkling eyes.

"Your grandmother and I just want to save it for later, lass," added William dryly. "We're still full up from dinner. You're mum's a fine cook."

"Thank God," said Henry under his breath.

His mother narrowed her eyes dangerously. "My hearing is still top-notch, Henry James Wellington."

"And she still makes a helluva Victoria Sponge, on a good day," said William, earning his wife's trademark glare.

But beneath the table, she laced her fingers through his.

THE END

A/N: I still have hope that one day the showrunners will come to their senses and give us something like this. I don't know if I'll write any more for this fandom, but if you like my writing, please click on my name and check out my stories from many different fandoms. I'd love to see you there!

*In my research, I discovered that a captain performing weddings on a ship was really not a common thing. It once might have been, out of necessity, but the legality of it is uncertain, and I couldn't find the exact date when it was no longer done on British ships. (These days, a captain can become an ordained minister online now, like anyone else can, but I didn't do any further research on that, for obvious reasons.) So, I use my creative license here, so that our beloved pair could fully get on with things. I hope you don't mind.