Epilogue

December 1817

JULIA SANG O KIRSTNACHT very slowly, still savoring the sounds of the newly-learned words on her tongue, and wondering if she had gotten it all right. But as to that, it did not matter so very much, for Willem Alexander was already asleep in his cradle, only knowing his mother was with him and her voice capable of dispelling any discomfort or fear.

“You are becoming quite proficient, my dear Lady Frost,” Will whispered, entering the room in stockinged feet, so as not to wake the baby. “My mother will be delighted.”

“I daresay your mother is delighted that she is finally a grandmother, and will scarcely give a thought as to whether or not her daughter-in-law can correctly pronounce ‘s’Gravenhage.’”

“Yes, it is a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?” Will laughed, and Julia put her finger to her lips. He lowered his voice. “We’ll get the little fellow started with ‘The Hague,’ and perhaps he’ll manage the rest by the time he studies at Leiden.”

“You speak as if it’s nearly upon us, that his childhood will pass in an instant,” Julia said, and Will stopped laughing.

“But I feel as if it will. Does it not seem like yesterday that we traveled through the snow, and danced at the ball in Langerford, and I wore that absurd costume at the masquerade, and you sang to Laurentia and Geoff’s many guests? And yet we have somehow gone from one Christmas Eve to the next. A lifetime has passed in a year.” Will bent down to caress the baby’s cheek, and Willem Alexander stretched and yawned in his sleep.

“It has been a year, and an extraordinary one,” Julia reminded him, though she knew she did not have to do so. “The darkness of Tambora’s eruption has finally lifted, treasures have been restored, there have been weddings, and everywhere there is the hope of new life.”

“Do you not regret that we did not return to Seabury this year? Laurentia hoped that you would once again provide the entertainment for Christmas Eve,” Will asked, but he already knew the answer to that, as well.

“I daresay Miss Rossiter shall manage just fine. Oh, dear. I must remember that she is Mrs. Wolfe now and is accompanied by her husband—in both senses of that word.” Julia slipped into her own husband’s arms. “Their music will be splendid.”

“Everyone thought the same of you last year, as I recall.”

“I never thought about that. Never was I concerned about everyone else’s approbation,” she said and shrugged. “As I recall, I sang only for you.”

“And I distinctly recall you told me that I ought never sing for anyone but you,” Will said. “I, apparently, was a man in want of a tune.”

Will took her hand and together they walked to the window to watch the snow fall this Christmas Eve. It was the first snow of the season, and softly covered Edgware Road and the few carriages bringing friends and families together to celebrate the holy night. Silently, Julia and Will walked from the nursery to go downstairs, where dinner awaited.

“I think you are mistaken, my dear,” Julia said, thinking of the year that passed, and all the many years ahead. “I believe you played your tune to perfection.”

The End

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