A/N: And so here it is, the end at last. I'm sure you all have heard that Stuart Martin will not be returning as the Duke next season, that the show will now be called simply "Miss Scarlet." I hate this. Truly. I haven't decided if I'll even watch, because frankly, I watched for Stuart Martin and for their love story. But I can't do anything about where the show is going, but I can, through the magic of fanfiction, give them the happy ending I believe they deserve. Feel free to make this head canon, if you like. (Another possible version is my post-season 3 fic, "Police Protection." I'd love for you to check it out.) So, unless something changes in the show, this will be canon for me. Please note, this is VERY long, and also, deserves a mild M-rating.
Chapter 7: Conclusion
William and Eliza
Resigning from the NYPD proved easier than William would have thought. He met with O'Leary in passing, who was on his way to a murder scene. O'Leary merely shrugged.
"I'm not surprised Scotty, toff like you so easily scared away. Have fun back in jolly old England, where you still have to kowtow to a queen."
William's jaw tightened as he handed over his badge. He retained his own gun from Scotland Yard. "I'm no toff. I grew up in a workhouse. But one thing I learned from that is what true integrity looks like—and I've not found it here."
O'Leary merely grinned, and, after slipping William's badge into his coat pocket and ironically tipping his hat at Eliza, went about his business. Collins was on his way out as well, and William only had the chance to give him a handshake and a hasty goodbye.
"I hope you find a better place for yourself, Wellington. You're a good detective."
"It was a pleasure working with you at least."
"Collins! Quit lollygagging or we leave without you!" called O'Leary.
Collins shrugged. "Duty calls." He gave Eliza a warm smile. "It was nice meeting you, Miss." And then he too was on his way.
William surveyed the remaining desks, noting how all the remaining detectives were busy with their own cases, none of them paying much mind to him or Eliza. With a sigh and a heavy heart, he took Eliza's hand and they went to his desk to take the few personal possessions he'd left there. They fit into his leather messenger bag, and without another word to anyone, they left the detective bureau.
Outside, William took a deep breath the sounds of New York City carrying on around them. ,.
"Are you all right?" Eliza asked him, still holding his hand.
"I will be. I thought I would feel free, but I just feel…adrift."
"Well, I have an idea. Why don't we not think about anything important for a few days. I've barely had time to explore the city. A thought will occur, I'm sure of it."
"I suppose that's as a good a plan as any at the moment. I do need to make some sort of decision soon. Without a paycheck I'll soon run out of money. All my savings is back in a bank in London."
"But you don't need to decide today."
He lifted her hand and kissed it, focusing on being with her, as he'd wanted to do for years even though he hadn't been able to admit it to himself until recently. "No, not today."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
And so they began to stroll, neither of them talking much, the weight of all they had been through the last two days heavy on their minds. They meandered through the park, less crowded in the early evening than their previous visit. They paused at the lake to watch the rowboats, men in shirtsleeves rowing their ladies at a lazy pace as the sun bathed them in its sinking light. William saw an abandoned boat on the shore, and without speaking, began walking toward it. Eliza smiled and gladly let him lead. He'd promised her a ride there, and he had the sudden, romantic urge to forget their cares for a while. He helped her in and she settled at one end of the boat, and he pushed them off, not minding that his shoes dipped into the mud of the shore before he stepped in and sat at the oars.
Eliza laughed and grabbed the sides of their boat as it wobbled a bit under his weight, and William joined her laughter. It had been years since he'd been in a boat such as this, although it had been far away, just outside of Glasgow, at Seven Lochs, and he'd been fishing with his father before things had gone terribly wrong. He shook his head to clear it of the bad memories, focusing on the good.
"My father used to let me row when we went fishing in a boat such as this," he said taking off his jacket for better range of movement. Eliza watched his muscular arms flex as he rowed them out to the center of the water. He chuckled. "I felt like a grown man at the tender age of ten."
Eliza smiled. "And did you catch any fish?"
"Aye. We both caught enough trout to last the family a week. Those were good days."
He didn't say any more, and Eliza reveled in the beauty of their surroundings, loving the way the blossoming trees hung low around the lake, the distant sounds of feminine squeals as their escorts played as if they were going to tip their boats. For Eliza's part, she found herself emptying her mind of their troubles, her eyes going to William's at the same time his found hers. Eliza's heart jumped at the love she saw there, and she tried to lay her own feelings bare for him to see. He rowed them around for a while in silence, Eliza dipping her hand in the cool water just as she'd imagined doing when they'd been here before. As the sun dropped lower in the sky, he maneuvered them back to shore, expertly beaching the small craft before stepping out and reaching out his hand.
"That was lovely," she said. "I've never been in a rowboat before."
"You're certainly better company than my father," he commented. "And much more beautiful." She blushed and squeezed his hand.
"You've never really spoken of your family," she said. When she'd asked long ago, he'd been so standoffish that she'd never ventured the subject again. Her father had merely said he'd had a rough start in life, and warned her it was too painful for him to talk about. For once, she'd restrained herself and had let it lie. Perhaps she'd been too afraid to hear how bad things had been for him, how it hurt her heart to think of what he might have gone through. It was better not to dwell on anything remotely sympathetic about him, lest she soften her heart toward him.
"They're all gone now," William was saying. "My older sister, Jenny, had died of tuberculosis when I was thirteen. Da died of pneumonia in the workhouse, and Mam soon after, in childbirth. That's when I left and lived on the streets of Glasgow for awhile, before journeying to London where your father took me in. The rest, you know, of course."
As surprised as she was to hear him open up now, she felt the need to pull him away from those melancholy memories. This time, she was protecting him, not her heart, which was well and truly lost to him now. Instead, she smiled as she directed her thoughts to how explosive their first meetings had been.
"Yes. We were not the best of friends at first."
William grinned at the understatement. "You were a spoiled, selfish brat, as I recall."
"And you were an arrogant, overconfident snob." But she didn't say it angrily, long ago used to his uncomplimentary characterization of her teenage self.
His eyebrows shot up. "Snob? It was like I'd stepped out of the pages of a Dickens novel. How could I have been a snob?"
"I don't know, but you somehow managed it. Lording your advanced age and experience over me. Hating me because we had more money than you."
"Oh Eliza, I never hated you. Quite the contrary, although I never admitted it to myself. You challenged me, infuriated me, and set my heart racing like a runaway train every time I was near you. I wanted you, but you were so far above me that my only recourse was false pride and tormenting you. I'd learned my lesson after you kissed me—"
"You kissed me," she corrected automatically, continuing their age-old argument.
"After we kissed," he compromised with a smirk, "I knew it was in my own best interest to keep an emotional distance from you, if I wanted your father to continue to help me. It was easy to do with your shrewish ways."
"Which was a direct response to your biting sarcasm and codgerly attitudes."
They both chuckled at the undeniable truth of it.
"This is why we belong together," he said affectionately. "We neither one of us is fooling the other. At least, not any more."
She sighed, taking his arm and leaning in close. "Oh, William. We've wasted so much time."
"So let that be a reminder for the day. We mustn't waste this time we've been given, this second chance to do things right."
In the middle of the path, she stopped, her hands going up to rest on either side of his soft beard. He saw the intent in her eyes, and was happy to oblige, bending to kiss her as the setting sun turned everything pink and gold.
"Now that was a good use of our time," he said after a moment, his quickened breath warm upon her face. Eliza could only breathlessly nod her agreement.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Since darkness was falling and they were on the other side of the park, William flagged down a cab, and they cuddled together, eager to be close. They passed a street sign that read Broadway Avenue.
"Hey!" Eliza exclaimed. "This is the street where the Pinkerton agency is. May we go by? Perhaps someone is still there."
William pulled slid back the opening in the ceiling and asked the driver: "Do you know where the Pinkerton Detective Agency is?"
"Yes sir."
"Take us there please."
"Certainly, sir."
A few minutes later, they stopped in front of a three-story building, lights still shining through the front-facing windows. Etched on the door was the Pinkerton logo, complete with the famous private eye symbol and their motto, We Never Sleep. Before he could help her, Eliza hopped down from the cab and made her way to the front steps.
"Wait here," William instructed the driver. He joined Eliza at the door of the establishment, and, finding the door unlocked, she simply walked in.
"Eliza—"
A young man sitting at a reception desk looked up from a ledger and addressed them mildly. "May I help you?"
"We wish to speak with your finest detective," Eliza said, "preferably a lady."
Before the man could reply, another voice, whisky rough but undoubtedly female, replied, "You're in luck. I was just about to leave for the evening."
Eliza's eyes lit up, and she rushed over to greet her. The Lady Pink was perhaps ten years older than Eliza. She was tall, her hair blonde, sleek, and bobbed, and she wore a men's style suit, complete with trousers, though it was by no means ill-fitting. Obviously, she'd had it specially tailored to her womanly form, and Eliza nearly blushed at the scandal that would have caused in Victorian London society. When she glanced at William, she saw that his jaw had dropped in surprise, then, to her consternation, in masculine appreciation. She frowned, and his eyes twinkled at her in amusement. Finding her manners, Eliza turned back to offer the woman her hand.
"I'm Miss Eliza Scarlet, and this is Inspector William Wellington of Scotland Yard."
"You've come all the way across the pond to see us? Things must be dire in England," she said dryly. "I'm Madeline Haines," the detective replied, shaking both of their hands in a firm, professional manner, "Head of Security. What can I do for you?"
"We don't need to hire you, fortunately," said Eliza. "I confess I'm here out of pure admiration, and…curiosity. Could you spare a few minutes to help satisfy it?"
"Huh. Interesting." She regarded Eliza and then took a closer look at the silent William, obviously liking what she saw. "Sure, I can spare the time. Please, come into my office. Mr. Pesto, hold any calls."
"Yes ma'am, Miss Haines."
She led them into a luxurious office, complete with expensive carpets, heavy mahogany desk, and a mauve chaise lounge against the wall. She sat in a comfortable leather chair behind her desk, indicating Eliza and William sit in the matching armchairs before her. On the walls were framed licenses, newspaper clippings with grainy pictures of her and another man, and commendations from the mayor and governor of New York.
"Now, what, exactly are you curious about, Miss Scarlet? Mind if I smoke?" Before they could reply, she'd already opened a small wooden box and lit a cigarette with a match. She inhaled, the tip of the cigarette flaming red. She inhaled, and blew smoke politely away from them, holding the cigarette between pink-tipped fingers.
Taken off guard by the unfamiliar sight of a woman smoking, Eliza took a moment to respond, so William filled in the silence.
"Miss Scarlet has her own detective agency in London. She expressed admiration for the acceptance women detectives seem to have with the Pinkertons."
"Yes," agreed Eliza, finding her voice. "It's been…difficult getting my business off and running with all the prejudice against my sex that I face everyday, from both men and women."
"Your own agency. I'm impressed. But just because Mr. Pinkerton appreciates women as colleagues, don't think for a minute the rest of the world does. But the fact that people tend to underestimate me has been quite valuable at times. You shouldn't hesitate to act the part of a helpless female if it's to your advantage."
"Oh, she's quite adept at that particular deception," said William wryly, thinking of all the times she'd fluttered her eyelashes at him or acted faint to get him to leave the room so she could pilfer a file from his desk.
Eliza grinned. "I admit that I've carefully honed my feminine wiles to help in my investigations."
"But she's also a fine detective, besting me on more than one occasion." William smiled at her affectionately, and Eliza warmed at his praise.
Miss Haines looked from one to the other, rightly guessing they were intimate partners. "So, you've worked together, I take it? That's quite a coup for you, having a close contact with the police."
"Yes. The inspector and I have been friends for years. We help each other all the time."
"At times it's been a bit one-sided," William qualified, "and often against my will or better judgment, but she's made quite the name for herself. There are still those who can't get over the fact that she's a woman, but that, I believe, is their loss."
"Unfortunately, it is also mine. But please, enough about me. Miss Haines, I would love to hear more about you, how you became a detective, how you've earned the respect of your peers…"
Miss Haines took another puff, then flicked off the accumulating ashes into a crystal ash tray to her right.
"It is a long, dull story, I'm afraid. Let's just say I fell into it by accident. You see, my husband moved here from Chicago to manage this office and let me just say, I was in a unique position to help him on his first case here." She smiled a sly, secretive smile. "I knew a lot of people, knew how the city worked. David was…very appreciative. Well, eventually he was. We bickered like cats and dogs at first. We wanted to kill each other most days. But then he wised up and brought me into the fold, and here we are…"
"You're married?" Eliza asked, not daring to look directly at William.
"Yes. Not my original choice, mind you. But David eventually wore me down. He's very possessive, you see, but I don't mind it, not anymore. There are certain perks to being married." She gave William a meaningful glance. "Since we work together, we understand the long hours and the skipped dinners and canceled plans. He's accepted that I'll never be your typical hausfrau, and I've accepted that he'll always be overly protective and will never let me get away with anything. But we've found a way to make it work, and little by little, he's come to trust that I can take care of myself—mostly. But he doesn't rub it in my face when I need him to rescue me—or vice versa."
"That's…" Eliza was at a loss for words, her mind spinning with the obvious similarities between Madeline Haines and her husband, and William and herself.
"I imagine it's difficult for Mr. Haines to see you in danger," said William.
Miss Haines grinned. "That's Mr. Madison. As a condition of our marriage, I asked him to let me keep my maiden name."
"Really?" said Eliza. "How very modern."
"I wanted to have a name for myself, to set us apart in that way, so that others would know I wasn't dependent on my husband for my accomplishments. But believe me, I'm happy to be his wife. Rather than holding me back, as I'd once feared, it has freed me to take the risks that I need to, knowing that someone will always be there to support me if I need it. It's certainly a hell of a lot less lonely. Pride and independence don't keep you warm on cold nights." She gave Eliza a knowing look, recognizing a kindred spirit. Then she answered William's earlier question.
"As for danger, David knows enough of my fears for him not to chafe too hard at me for what happens in our work. Occupational hazard, for both of us. We recognize it, and take comfort from one another when things are difficult. But I digress. I'm sure this isn't what you wanted to hear about, Miss Scarlet. But if I'm reading you both correctly—and believe me, I'm quite good at that—it is information you both need to hear."
Neither of her visitors had a ready response, so Miss Haines took another drag from her cigarette, letting her words sink in a moment. Then, her own curiosity coming to the fore, she asked: "You two aren't looking for new jobs, by chance? If so, I have to tell you, that here in New York, we've moved far away from our original mission. We're more of a security company now than investigators, unless it pertains to those we are protecting. We've left missing person cases, petty thefts, and unfaithful spouses to the smaller firms, so if you're looking for that kind of job, you won't find it here. We work a lot with the labor unions—not exactly the exciting cases the Chicago office is still known for, but it pays the rent. I could write letters of introduction if you fancy travelling in that direction…"
"No," said Eliza, not completely hiding her disappointment. "Thank you, though." She'd thought perhaps this could be an option she and William could discuss, but Miss Haines was right—labor disputes and personal security weren't their cups of tea. Give her an old-fashioned murder or a good embezzlement case any day. Glancing now at William, she got to her feet. "I do appreciate your taking the time to talk with us. I so admire the career you've made for yourself, and the general way this agency runs its business."
William and Madeline Haines rose too, and the Lady Pink went round her desk to escort them out. Just as they exited her office, the front door opened, and in walked a dapper man, oddly enough, dressed very similarly to Miss Haines. He had a ready smile with charming dimples, his green eyes sparkling at the tall woman before him. It was as if no one else was in the room, and he came over to her and kissed her cheek.
"Maddie, Maddie, Maddie, where have you been? I waited an hour for you at the restaurant and—oh, you have guests." He nodded to them both. "David Madison here. I trust my wife has been looking after you."
Miss Haines made introductions, and Madison shook their hands good-naturedly, his Chicago accent thick and nasally.
"These two are detectives themselves, from London. They came to pick my brain about what we do here."
"Well, we can always use experienced help around here, if you're interested," said Madison.
"No," said William. "I think we both would miss home too much. I've been away for six months, working with the NYPD."
"And I…followed him," admitted Eliza, blushing at how that sounded.
"Well good on you, Miss Scarlet," said Miss Haines. "Take it from me—don't let a good man slip away from you."
"Or a good woman," added her husband, shooting a loving glance her way. "Trust me, I chased her down until she caught me."
Miss Haines's eyes narrowed. "That's not quite how I remember things."
"You really need to work on that memory of yours," teased Madison, earning a light punch in the arm from his wife.
Eliza smiled, liking them both immensely. "Well, don't let us keep you from your dinner." She reached out her hand once more to Miss Haines, who enfolded it in the warmth of both of hers. While the men chatted about the current state of the NYPD, she lowered her voice so only Eliza could hear.
"Miss Scarlet, don't make the same mistakes I did. There are times when you need to listen with your heart instead of your head. Trust yourself, and you won't have regrets."
"Thank you. I—I will. I wish we could stay. I would have liked to get to know you better."
Miss Haines smiled. "Me too. Please write to me—David will tell you I'm always too free with the advice." She chuckled. "Good luck to you both, and I hope your agency finds its success. And just so you know, I watched your William, and I can tell he is quite smitten with you. Men like him are hard to find."
"Yes," Eliza said. "I've recently come to understand this the hard way."
The couples parted ways, and Eliza and William went down the stairs to their waiting cab. "Harrison House, on Eleventh Avenue," William directed.
They ate at The Drover's Inn again, and spoke about the long, eventful day. There were many things on their minds, many things to decide, and so deep thoughts of their visit with the Pinkerton couple were put on hold. Neither of them wanted to delve into the implications of the parallels between the two couples; the lesson was a disturbingly
obvious one. One decision, however, was very easily made.
"I don't want to live in New York," announced William. "I want to go home."
"As do I," she said. And that was that. Now, what they would do when they got back was yet another decision. They agreed they would leave as soon as they could, however, and William vowed to get their tickets the next day. There would be plenty of time during the long voyage to discuss their future.
Back at the boarding house, William stopped with Eliza by her door.
"I won't come in," he said. "Nor should you come to my room. For one thing, I don't know how I could resist another night with you in my bed. For another, I'm scunnered."
Eliza smiled, disappointed though realistic. "I agree. See how well we're getting on these days?"
William looked skeptical, but amused. "We'll enjoy that while it lasts. In the meantime, I canna leave you without a kiss goodnight." He looked up and down the hall, pleased to find it empty.
"Agreed," she said, but before she could congratulate them again, he'd captured her lips and maneuvered her so that he'd pressed her back against the door. He leaned in as closely as he could, molding his body to hers, ravaging her mouth with a hunger that made him question his decision to leave her. He wondered if he could ever touch her again without his heart threatening to pound out of his chest.
"A loue ye," he whispered raggedly into her ear, his brogue made heavy with longing. "Guid nicht, dear yin."*
She held tightly to him for a moment, words failing her once again.
He left her too soon, making sure she'd locked herself in before stumbling as if drunk to his own room and to his lonely bed.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Eliza awoke to find a note slipped under her door. William had gone to find out the next ship going to London and to purchase their tickets. He warned her that it might be soon—his way of saying not to be lay about. Eliza was up early enough to eat breakfast in the boarding house, and leisurely enjoyed her tea, eggs and toast while chatting with a few of the other boarders. Mrs. Harrison gave her a strained smile and cool hello, but didn't otherwise comment. She'd seen William earlier at the start of breakfast, and he'd seemed subdued. Mrs. Harrison also blamed Eliza for that, although Eliza was unaware of the additional crimes heaped upon her.
"We leave at nine tomorrow morning," William told her finding her in the downstairs parlor. "What shall we do on our last day in New York?"
"I was talking to some of the other boarders. They suggested the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Have you seen it yet?"
"No," said William, although looking at old paintings didn't seem like much fun, he would indulge her, thinking that any time spent with her was bound to be interesting. She noted his strained smile at her suggestion, however. "Aside from the new French Impressionists exhibit, I hear there is an ancient Roman sarcophagus. You've mentioned a love of history."
This seemed to perk him up, and they decided to go. They walked through the beautiful museum, arm-in-arm, and he was right to think that anything could be made thrilling with Eliza on his arm, even the old coffin of an ancient Roman. She insisted they eat lunch again from Feltman's Famous Dachshund Sausages, and they did, enjoying another beautiful spring day in Central Park. They walked down the bustling streets of the city, looking in shop windows, Eliza stopping to buy a small trinket for Ivy and a couple of books for herself to pass the time on the journey home. Again they talked of nothing important, through unspoken agreement putting off the deep discussions for later.
While he'd been out that morning, William had also made reservations at the restaurant he'd wanted to take her to on her first night in New York. The dress Mrs. Harrison had pressed was still hanging neatly in her wardrobe, and as she put it on later, Eliza felt her heart fluttering for no good reason other than she would once again be with William, the man she loved.
They dined on fine French cuisine, William handsome in his dinner suit, hair and beard perfectly groomed, his eyes rarely straying from hers. They were put in mind of their many dinners together in London, but this time there was a certain feeling of privacy they hadn't experienced back home, as if a bubble encased them, separating them from the rest of the high society diners. They laughed softly, touched feet secretly beneath the table, his hand occasionally covering hers on top of the table, uncaring that they might have appeared unmannerly to those around them. Once again, he did not want to leave her, but a repeat of the previous night's kisses by her door was denied them as another tenant looked pointedly at them as he entered his room between theirs.
In the middle of the night, the tap at William's door awakened him, and as he opened it, heart racing, Eliza fell into his arms. They clung and kissed and he rid her of her coat, and then her shift, neither paying a thought to Mrs. Harrison's rules, given they would be leaving in the morning. Once again, he showed great restraint, though still he pleasured her with his mouth and hands. This time, however, he gave in to her explorations, letting her touch him intimately, initiating her into the mysteries of the aroused male body. As he came undone in her hands, he let himself go, let her experience what she did to him, his moans muffled against her breasts. They fell asleep wrapped around each other, neither of them moving until the morning sun awakened them.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Day four of their voyage, and William looked thoughtfully at the jeweler's box he'd purchased the day before they'd left New York.
While they had separate cabins, they'd spent every night together in one room or the other, unable to get enough of each other. She was a willing student in his lessons of pleasure, and they did everything but the ultimate consummation, no matter how much she insisted she was ready. In the end he got his way in this, and she didn't argue much when she was in the throes of ecstasy. They'd spent the days talking about the things they'd put off mentioning in New York, of what might come when they returned to London. They had quarreled about whether he should return to Scotland Yard. He was grudgingly in favor, figuring some job was better than no job, that until he decided what he truly wanted to do, he would grit his teeth and go back to work.
Eliza was currently stewing in frustration at his stubbornness, alone in her own room, while he opened the blue box to stare at the simple ring nested upon blue velvet. The round center stone was a bright blue sapphire, with European cut diamonds flanking either side. Of course, the sapphire reminded him of her eyes, even down to the hint of fire in the center, while the diamonds offered a bit of luxury. He was not in the least worried about his selection, that she would adore it, for he'd remembered how she'd spoken of a ring some months before after they'd gone undercover to a jewelry store in London. It was tasteful and lovely, just like her, and all that he could afford without his savings back home, but he'd known it would please her the moment he saw it. No, the trouble was not the ring; it was the proposal that worried him.
Things were still not settled between them. He still didn't know if they would be capable of compromising like the seemingly happy couple they'd met at Pinkerton. In many ways they would be returning to the same problems he'd left her for six months ago, save the knowledge that she loved him as much as he loved her, and obviously they were closer physically, a bond he had no idea how he could ever break now. But he had changed; they both had. He knew in his heart they were committed to making this work because the alternative was impossible. He quite simply couldn't imagine his life without her, and he was certain she felt the same way. But they could not go on like this, and the ring would push things to a tipping point that he welcomed, if only to take them out of their misery of indecision.
When her familiar knock came at his door, he pocketed the ring in its box and opened it.
"Are you finished being angry with me?" he asked, once look at her tear bright eyes softening the question.
"Yes, if you're through being stubborn."
"Doubtful that will ever happen, but please, come in anyway." She came in.
"I've come up with a solution," she said, and she looked unusually nervous, deciding to stand rather than sit in the chair he indicated. Being the gentleman, he remained standing as well. "I suggested this long ago, but you laughed at me then," she continued. "I suppose I would have taken it back then had you agreed, but things are different now between us. We have a new…understanding."
She was pacing in the small room, and it stirred his own anxiety. "Please Eliza, for the love of God, sit down and say what you need to or I'll run mad."
She stopped abruptly in front of him, and to his surprise, reached for both his hands. She very much had the breathless air of one about to propose marriage. This would not do, and his mind began to race as fast as his heart.
"William, we have worked together many times, and while we've had frequent disagreements, I feel that this only makes us both better detectives, better people. If we look at it from that perspective, it's not a fault at all; it's a clear benefit, so I see no reason why we shouldn't join our two worlds together, permanently."
"Eliza—" he began in trepidation.
"So William, would you please—"
He held up a hand. "Stop right there. I'm all for women finding their own way in this world, and I'm even coming to terms with some of your more modern sensibilities, but clearly it's a man's place to ask such a question. That is one thing where I positively draw the line."
She appeared confused. "Did you go and form your own detective agency when I wasn't looking?"
"What?"
"William, I'm asking you to come work with me at my detective agency. Be my equal partner, with your name above the door and everything. It's the most logical solution—" she stopped suddenly, understanding dawning. "Why, what did you think I was asking?"
William's cheeks above his beard were rosy, and he dropped her hand and turned away in embarrassment. "You didn't think I—I was proposing marriage to
you?"
She laughed, but stopped when she saw his back stiffen. "William, I'm not laughing at the idea of marrying you; I'm laughing at our mutual misunderstanding." She moved toward him, touching his arm. "Did you hear what I really asked? Do you think you might consider being my business partner?"
He took a deep breath and turned back to her, relief flooding his features. It had taken him a moment to focus on what she was really talking about. The idea of working with her, once seeming a ridiculous notion, now held some merit. He'd actually considered it himself, but he'd never suggest it to her; it was her business after all, and he would never want to interfere. It was a logical option—on paper. In reality? It would take some serious compromising. Both of them would have to give up some control. He was used to being a boss by now, and she was used to running her own business. She'd chafed under the harness that was Nash and Sons, but that was because she'd lost practically all of her control. A partnership was a different animal altogether.
"Do you think we could seriously work together and not ruin our relationship outside of work?" he asked.
"I think we could, if we both set some rules and agree to keep those things separate. If we were true partners, with neither of us trying to take over, it could work. We would both have to find a way to make it work, together. I don't deceive myself that it will be easy. It may well be the hardest thing we ever do. But it might be the very compromise that allows us to be together as a couple too."
"And you say it will be an equal partnership? I'm assuming you'll require that I buy into it?"
She flushed. "Well, yes, cashflow has been difficult lately, and an infusion of your initial investment would be needed to get us through this transitional period. But once people see that a former Scotland Yard detective has joined my agency, I imagine new clients will be lining up at our door."
"And this won't bother you, the fact that more business might come because of me?"
"No, of course not. I expect it; hope for it, actually. We will simply have to explain to those new clients that we come as a pair, that we will be working together to solve their cases. We'll make it clear that I'm not working for you, and you aren't working for me. They may take it or leave it, but we must insist that that is the way it will be."
"Hmm. And my name will be above the door too, you say? Second, after yours, I assume."
"Well, alphabetical is fair, isn't it? Scarlet comes before Wellington after all." They smiled at one another, and Eliza's heart leapt as she saw that he was honestly considering it.
He moved toward her, one hand resting on her slim shoulder, the other rising to caress her soft cheek. "What if it were to read, Wellington and Wellington?"
Her eyes clouded briefly, before lighting with understanding. She gasped. "William, what are you saying?"
"I'm offering the first test of our newfound partnership. I will be your partner in business if you'll be my partner in life, as well." He dropped to one knee, and her hand went to her mouth in shock. William took the box from his pocket and opened it so she could see the lovely ring. "Eliza, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
Eliza barely glanced at the lovely blue stone; her eyes on William's loving, expectant eyes. She felt a sudden calm descend over her, a rightness, an inevitability. She relaxed and smiled at him, her eyes shining with all the love she felt for this man.
"Are we negotiating now?" she asked cheekily. "Does it really come down to all or nothing? You'll only be my partner if I become your wife?"
"That is non-negotiable," he said, beginning to feel ridiculous, still on one knee holding the ring, but he continued their dialogue, because this was what they did.
"Hmm." She tapped her lower lip thoughtfully. "Well, what if we call our agency Scarlet and Wellington, but outside of business I'm called Mrs. Wellington?" Her voice trembled a little over the name she would have as a married lady. His married lady.
A smile tugged at his lips. "I'm amenable to that."
"And you must never expect that I will learn to cook, at least not well, nor will I likely make the bed in the morning, or pick up after either of us."
"Agreed. But if you'll pardon me, Eliza, none of that can occur if you don't say yes to my proposal."
"Well, you must say yes to my initial proposal. I asked first."
William lowered his hand and hung his head, his fingers moving to squeeze the bridge of his nose. "For the love of God, Eliza," he muttered.
She was grinning now. "All right, on the count of three, we'll both give our reply. One."
"Eliza, how did I know you'd take all the romance out of this?"
"Two."
"If this is how our married life will be—"
"Two and a half."
"Oh, bloody hell."
"Three!"
"Yes, dammit," he said.
"Yes, William," she said at the same time.
"You will?" he said.
"You will?" said she.
He was on his feet in an instant, embracing her, spinning her around in the small cabin as they laughed aloud in sheer happiness. And then he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back with equal passion.
Because that's what true partners did.
A/N: An epilogue is to follow shortly.
*" I love you. Good night, dear one."