A Novelist for the Wounded Earl – Extended Epilogue

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‘You have finished it?’ Amelia beamed with delight, jumping from a nearby chair as they both sat in the parlour together.

Marianne sighed heavily but with a sense of achieved completion and accomplishment. Her wrist ached, there had been numerous ruined pages of scrunched up paper thrown across the floor on the way, she had waded through what felt like buckets of ink and far too many writing utensils to number, but yes, she had finally finished it.

‘I want you to read it now, and let me know your thoughts,’ Marianne shuffled the papers roughly together and handed the pile of paper that now would be their manuscript, to Amelia.

‘Oh, I am certain it is just marvelous, Marianne, for you have been working on it near non-stop.’

‘Perhaps, but we are a team now Amelia, and your input is needed. I rely on you to keep me right and spot any mistakes I have made.’

Two years had passed since Marianne had first set foot in Arundel castle as the Countess of Arundel, though it had hardly felt like a year, for the weeks and months had practically flown by. One minute, it appeared she was gazing out of the window at the spring bluebells, and the next, the leaves were falling from the trees at the beginning of autumn.

Yet, it had been perhaps, that they had been so very busy, that the time had flown, for having settled into her new life, it had not been long, before Isaac had suggested that the novel she had written for Amelia ought to be sent to a publisher. Whilst Amelia had been ecstatic at the thought, Marianne had been rather reticent. Isaac had been confused at her reaction and only later had attempted to discover why she was not more eager to have her work published.

Marianne’s dream had been to make a career from her writing, but it had always been out of her reach, and whilst she had sold some articles to the local gazette, she had not ventured forward with such large steps as to approach a publisher. As they discussed it together in private, Marianne finally realised that it was her own lack of confidence and belief in herself that held her back. 

Isaac could hardly believe her criticism, for as he had stated many times before, he would never have hired her to help Amelia in the first place if he did not think she had great talent. Yet, Marianne’s fear of failing had suddenly appeared from nowhere, though she understood why. Given that it had only been a dream, she had never really thought of how she would actually feel if it became a reality. Now, the reality had arrived, other emotions came from the depths of her fears to haunt her.

It had taken some doing, but between Amelia and Isaac, they had finally convinced her to send it to the publishers and at least see what would happen. Their reasoning being, that she could not know, if she did not send it. If it did not do well, they would all support each other and simply try again, for Isaac was determined to ensure that Marianne’s desire to become an author was realised.

Of course, all her worry and fear had been for nothing. Having waited for a reply from the publisher, she could not have been more thrilled when his letter had relayed how much he had loved her novel and that he was determined to begin publishing it straight away, if she were willing. 

Once it was released to the public, it was a huge success, and the publisher even had to go back to the printing presses to meet the demand. The publisher had been so confident in her abilities, that he had pushed for her to sign a contract with him almost immediately and so, Marianne’s dream had come to fruition, for she indeed was now making a living from her writing.

Whilst Amelia could not be added to the contract, for she was far too young, Marianne was determined that she not only shared in the profits, but was added as her partner in the inside cover of the book, and so, whilst it was Marianne’s name on the cover, Amelia’s contribution was advertised to all who read it. As her second, so to speak, Amelia’s job was to scour Marianne’s work for mistakes, for there was no such thing as a perfect writer, and two sets of eyes were always better than one.

As Amelia now took the manuscript from her and dropped herself down into a nearby chair, Marianne stretched a little and went in search of her father. He was to be found in the kitchen, for the staff could hardly keep him out of it these days, and yet, they were not resentful. Her father had taught them many tricks of the trade and in their observation of his techniques, had wondered at the creations he produced. There never appeared to be any complaint when it came to a taste test either.

‘Ah, Marianne, my dear,’ he smiled as she entered, his hands covered in flour.

The other servants bowed slightly and acknowledged her presence with ‘my lady’. At the beginning, she had struggled to deal with such reverence, but enough time had passed, that she was now well used to it.

‘Hello, papa. What wonders are you creating today?’

‘I am making a delicious steak and kidney pie, and we have already tasted the gravy and it is quite satisfactory.’

‘I am certain it is,’ Marianne smiled.

‘Are you finished?’ He regarded her expectantly. ‘Is the second novel completed already?’

‘Yes, papa.’ Marianne grinned. ‘Amelia is reading it now to check my work.’

‘I am so pleased for you my dear. I cannot express to you how very proud I am, and I know, your mother would have felt exactly the same if she were still here.’

‘I know, papa. I still miss her too. I have you to thank for all your continued support over the years.’

‘No my dear, you have yourself to thank for continuing on even through great tribulation, for that is the way of you and always has been.’

They chatted for a little longer, before Marianne left him to get on, and as she wandered out to the gardens for some fresh air, she could not help but smile to herself. The eminent physician from London no longer visited the castle, for on his last visit several months ago, he felt his expertise was no longer necessary. Sticking by his original diagnosis, he declared that Mr Finch’s health was now at its peak and he could not help but conclude that it had been the huge change in his lifestyle that had brought that about.

Marianne had not really needed the physicians expertise to realise that, for it had been evident to her for a long time, yet, she was just glad that he was now, happier and healthier with no more stress to burden him. Even in the castle, he had surrounded himself with likeminded people in the form of the servants, and in time, he had settled into the easier life.

It was as she wandered around the garden, that Marianne suddenly heard a tiny giggle behind her, and as she turned, she smiled broadly as her wonderful husband carried their beautiful daughter of nine months, in his shoulders. Isaac ran lightly, causing her to bob up and down on her perch, which appeared to delight her immensely, hence the giggles, and as Isaac approached her, Catherine reached out her chubby arms to her mother.

‘There you are,’ Isaac smiled warmly. ‘We came looking for you in the parlour, but we only found Amelia reading your finished manuscript.’

‘Yes, I finished it only this morning.’

‘That is because you are amazing,’ he reached down and kissed her cheek. ‘I am so proud you my darling.’

‘Thank you,’ Marianne smiled broadly, reaching up and taking Catherine from his arms. ‘And how is my darling daughter today? Did papa take you fencing this morning? Or perhaps on a horse ride?’

‘No,’ Isaac replied lightly, ‘this morning, I taught her how to fight in hand to hand combat.’

Marianne giggled at his silliness and Catherine giggled at her mother’s laughter. Marianne had been gazing lovingly at her daughter when she lifted her head to smile at Isaac. He was looking at her and their daughter whimsically and suddenly sighed with a satisfied smile.

‘I must be the luckiest man in the world,’ he said. ‘Everything I have ever desired is standing right before me, and I cannot believe, the two most beautiful ladies in the world are mine, and mine alone.’

Several days later, having looked over the manuscript once more and having corrected any mistakes that Amelia had discovered, Marianne was ready for it to be dispatched. As Marianne was just finishing off the cover letter to be sent with the manuscript, Fanny walked into the parlour.

Once the bakery was sold, Fanny had suddenly been at a loss as to fill her time, and in a conversation with Marianne many months ago, it was Marianne who had come up with the idea of a paid position. Whilst Amelia was the main editor of her work, Marianne could use more help, especially with dispatching missives and manuscripts to the publisher and ensuring she had enough writing utensils and resources. 

It was in this thought that, she had asked Fanny to be her assistant, for the less time she spent consumed with those things, the more energy and time she could put into her writing. It also appeared, that there were letters from readers that had been sent to the publisher, the care of which, also became Fanny’s responsibility. Fanny of course, had been delighted and took on her new role with great fervour. It helped everything run much more smoothly and as she trusted Fanny implicitly, she knew she was capable of doing her job well.

‘Is that draft now ready, Marianne? Would you like me to dispatch it to the publisher for you?’

‘Yes, Fanny, that would be very helpful, thank you.’

‘I can hardly believe you have managed to complete another novel so very quickly, my goodness, I am surprised there was not smoke coming from the paper,’ she winked.

Marianne chuckled at her friend and nodded. ‘Well, I do have many years of ideas now stuck in my head that are fighting to get out. I suppose, it just flows from me.’

‘That is because this is what you were meant to do with your life, my dear friend. It is a delight seeing you so satisfied and joyful at your work.’

‘I have been very fortunate, Fanny. I could not be more grateful for all that has happened in my favour.’

‘Well, it is not like it is not deserved, Marianne. Nor was it handed to you upon a plate.’

‘Perhaps, but there are many people like me who are hardworking and they do not get their fairy tale ending.’

‘No, instead they read your novels and receive their fairy tales from those,’ Fanny grinned. ‘And on that note, I will take this and get it sent off, for I think, after all your hard work, you deserve a relaxing break.’

It was at that moment that Isaac walked into the parlour, carrying Catherine in his arms. ‘Did someone mention a relaxing break?’

‘Indeed, I did, my lord,’ Fanny said as she passed him grinning broadly at Catherine as she went before leaving the three alone in the room.

‘Then I must say, great minds think alike, for I was only considering that myself. How about a day at the beach? I already have a picnic being made up at this very minute.’

Amelia suddenly rushed into the room and took Isaac and Marianne a little by surprise. ‘Did someone say a day at the beach?’

‘My goodness, walls really do have ears,’ Isaac grinned down at his sister. ‘Yes, I think we should all go, for I know mother would enjoy the fresh air and Mr Finch would no doubt help you make tremendously wonderful sandcastles.’

‘Would he really, Marianne?’ Amelia glared in surprise.

‘Oh, I have no doubt he would Amelia, for my father loves to make things. Who knows, your sandcastle may well end up looking like a pie, or a loaf of bread.’

This idea evidently tickled Amelia for she doubled over into fits of giggles, much to the delight of Catherine, who giggled infectiously with her, until Isaac and Marianne also joined them. If anyone would have walked into the room, they would assume the lot of them were quite mad and in fact, as the Countess Dowager walked into the parlour only moments later, her expression relayed such.

After they had all calmed down and Isaac had told his mother of their plan, she delightedly agreed that a day at the beach sounded like a splendid idea and could not help chuckle a little herself when she was told of what they had all been laughing at. Amelia swiftly left the room to inform Mr Finch of their plans, and the Countess Dowager went to ready herself.

Isaac had already ordered a carriage to be readied and as they now sat in the parlour together, with Catherine playing on a rug at their feet, Marianne could not believe that she could be any happier than this moment. It was the strangest of sensations as a calmness settled over her, for all she had wished for, had come true and more.

Though her dreams of becoming a paid writer had been with her since she was a child, she could never have imagined everything else that had happened along with it. Determined that happy endings only happened in fairy tales and novels, she had resigned herself to a life of working in the bakery and assisting her father.

Her life had seemingly been turned on its head and whilst it had taken some getting used to, she could only be grateful for all the fortune that had been poured upon her and her father. Just over two years ago, they were to leave for London having lost their business and their home, and now, she had everything she could ever have dreamed of and more. 

In her connecting with Isaac, she had gained an entirely new family, and whilst the Countess Dowager could never replace her mother, she had been most supportive and helpful all the way through her pregnancy and in her advice and expertise of the birth.

As a doting grandmother, she adored Catherine and had spent many hours taking care of her and playing with her as Marianne had had to work. Amelia had reacted exactly the same, for to discover she was to become an aunt at such a young age, had delighted her immensely, and when Catherine finally arrived into the world, Amelia had spoilt her with attention, though there had been much competition between Amelia, the Countess Dowager and her father on who would spend the most time looking after their daughter. Marianne had not ever been short of help.

Marianne now gazed from Catherine still playing on the rug and looked across to Isaac, who sat, completely intoxicated with evident love that he showed for his daughter, for he did indeed adore her, even though he had teased Marianne when she was pregnant that it was imperative that she provide him with a son.

How she had been so fortunate to find such a man, Marianne simply could not know, and could only thank whoever or whatever had brought them together with immense gratitude. As she regarded him, he must have sensed her gaze, for he pulled his attention from Catherine’s playing to look across at her.

Smiling warmly, he did not need to speak, for his eyes relayed to her all that he felt, as they often did and as they always had, for there had been many times she had blushed under the intenseness of his gaze.

‘I am so grateful I have you in my life, Isaac. I do not quite know what I did to deserve you, but you have brought me such happiness that I could never imagine I would know.’

‘Then I can only say, I too am completely blissful, for it is your happiness, Marianne, that brings me such joy. Who could have known that a random meeting in a dark street could have led to all that we have together now? It has been quite a journey, and yet there is still more to come.’

‘Which I can only look forward to, for I know, life will not always be as perfect as it appears now, we will face difficulties and struggles as everyone does, but even if I had written this as a novel, my heroines could not end up as happy as I am now. I did not just find my knight in shining armour, I discovered a man of depth and love and consideration, who happens also to be a rather skillful swordsman, but an even more loving father.’

‘You do know, though, that I will be teaching our daughter how to fence with skill,’ he smirked, ‘for it is a very useful accomplishment and you never know when she may need to swordfight with another.’

Marianne rolled her eyes and chuckled, for whilst her husband no longer needed to hide behind his defenses, he still used his rather witty sense of humour to tease her. Having said that, she could never be certain if he might just teach Catherine how to defend herself, for he had wanted a son after all, and perhaps, it would not be any terrible thing, for she would gladly want her daughter to be as feisty and passionate about life as she was herself. 

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