Page 24 of Discovering Dahlia (The Blue Orchid Society #5)
That evening, Dahlia supervised the stringing of lights across the deck. The captain complained about attaching “frippery” to his rigging, but his protests were lighthearted at best. The unanticipated events of the previous night and early morning had made docking in Brighton instead of the planned stop at Shanklin necessary. It was imperative that Mr. Yeates be put on a train to a London hospital and Mrs. Yeates upon the same train, with a less pleasant destination. Jim and Jonathan had made the arrangements for the patient and prisoner transports with the police station at Brighton and had returned an hour earlier to spend the final evening of the cruise with their friends.
The day had been an eventful one. Dahlia, Meredith, and Chatsworth had all been treated for rashes caused by the nightshade berries on their hands and, in Dahlia’s and Meredith’s cases, on their cheeks—she’d told him it served him right for kissing her so boldly directly after Mrs. Yeates had smeared the poison on her face. But Meredith had claimed the kiss was well worth a bit of discomfort and a foul-smelling salve.
Since Hazel and Jim had been attending to patients and missed the action, they had insisted on hearing all of the details, and by the time Dahlia and the others were released from the sick bay, they had stumbled to their cabins, exhausted.
None of the passengers had complained about spending the afternoon at Brighton instead of on the Isle of Wight, for which Dahlia was very grateful. And tonight, the ball was to go ahead as planned.
Feeling satisfied with the decor, she climbed up to the terrace deck, both wanting to see the lights from the higher angle and feeling a need to confront the place where, only a few hours earlier, she very nearly was killed. The attack had come so quickly that Dahlia had been taken off guard and had only saved herself from the poisonous berries by tripping on her skirts and causing Mrs. Yeates to stumble as well. She could not believe it when she had been pressed back against the rail, a fistful of poisonous berries directed at her mouth, and she’d seen Meredith scamper like a cat up the rigging. If he’d been only a moment later... Dahlia shivered, looking at the rail and the freshly scrubbed deck where all traces of nightshade berries had been cleaned away.
She came to the deck, looking over the edge, and was pleased to see Lorene and Ruben on the lower deck, sitting together on deck chairs, talking. She hoped her words or Lorene’s desperate need for her husband’s attention had been heard.
Footsteps sounded behind her, but she didn’t turn. She knew it was Meredith, and a smile pulled at her mouth.
“Back at the scene of the crime, are you?” he said, coming to stand beside her.
“The scene of the rescue,” she corrected.
He smirked. “Ah yes, that was rather remarkable, wasn’t it? A swashbuckling escapade worthy of a character in an Alexandre Dumas novel.”
“Indeed it was. I shall have to thank Milton Barrow for the excellent training he provided you in your balance competition.”
Meredith looked over the rail toward Ruben and Lorene. “I hope they can be happy.”
Dahlia nodded.
“I saw the two of them earlier,” he said, “speaking with the duchess. I was not close enough to hear, but from what I saw, Her Grace appeared to have responded to the situation with her typical compassion.” He turned around, resting his back against the rail. “And Ruben announced that Hubert the Magnificent will be performing at Lorene’s birthday celebration next month.”
Dahlia smiled. “Everything is wrapped up in a tidy bow.”
“Everything?” he asked. “Where does this all leave us? You and me?”
“I don’t know,” she said. She turned toward him, resting a hand on the rail. “When Ruben... back when that all happened, I lost myself entirely. Who was I if not Lord Ruben’s intended? Who was I if not the belle of high Society? Everything I knew about myself was based upon those things—on who admired me, on which gossip rags featured a gown I wore, on how many invitations and visitors I received, on filled dance cards.” She inhaled and blew out a breath, surprised that remembering those times didn’t hurt like it once had.
“But then, in an instant, it was all gone. All of it. And I have spent the last year discovering who I am without my former life. What I am capable of. I worried a man would spoil it all, that I would have to change who I’ve become into who he wanted me to be.” She looked up at him to see that he was watching her closely. What she said next, the way she said it, would most likely determine the course of their relationship, so she chose her words carefully.
“I do not know what my future holds, Lord Meredith.” She took his hand in both of hers. “But I cannot imagine it without you in it.” Her eyes misted as she looked at him, and her heart swelled with emotion. “You have proven to be exactly the opposite of what I feared. You listen to me, you encourage me, and you allow me to take the lead concerning business manners. Not many men would do that.”
He tipped his head to the side, and a hopeful smile tugged at his lips. “I do not want to take your life away from you, Dahlia. I am very much in love with you, with the woman you’ve become. I simply ask to be a part of it.”
She stepped into his embrace, resting her head on his chest, feeling completely content. She thought of his calm support during her time of crisis. How he had jumped in without being asked and worked tirelessly to search for the jewels, to apprehend the thief, and solve the murder plot. And he’d done it all without taking away her command of the situation. A partner , she thought. That was what Meredith was; he was exactly what she needed, exactly who she needed.
***
That evening at dinner, the dining room had, under Dahlia’s direction, changed its layout. Portable tables had been inserted between their larger permanent counterparts, creating one large table where all the passengers sat together.
Dahlia was pleased to see that the passengers had understood her intention, and instead of sitting in their typical small groups, they had spread, intermingling with others, who had, up until now, remained in their own small groups as well.
Dinner was served, and Francois had outdone himself, preparing course after course of delectable food and a beautiful selection of pastries, which he had three times assured Dahlia contained no poison. She’d resigned herself to the fact that he would continue to remind her of that, and often.
Once the meal was finished, servers brought glasses of sparkling wine. Dahlia stood, clinking her spoon on her glass until she had everyone’s attention. “Friends, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming with me on the SS Aurora ’s maiden voyage.”
The company applauded.
“This journey was a first for me. A pleasure cruise is not something I had ever undertaken, and there were some... unforeseen circumstances. I am grateful for your patience and for the help of all of those who made this cruise happen—most especially my assistant, Victor Vandelay, without whose vision and attention to detail none of this would have been possible.”
Victor blushed, pressing a hand to his heart.
Dahlia waited for the applause to die down. “As I look out at all of you, my heart is full. When this cruise began, many of us arrived with those we know well, not wishing to take the daunting step of introducing ourselves or stepping outside the sphere in which we find comfort. But throughout the journey, that slowly changed. New friendships formed during shore expeditions or deck competitions. Tight-knit groups loosened. Relationships were formed. Perhaps there was even some romance.” She did not glance at Meredith or toward Lord Lockhart and Helen Rothschild, who were most obviously holding hands beneath the tablecloth. “And now here we all are at the end of our journey together, as a community of friends. And that is my hope for the future of the Paragon Line. That, in the confines of this ship, through shared experiences, preconception and bias will be overcome and that, in learning more about one another, we will learn more about ourselves.” She raised her glass. “To a community of friends.”
The toast was repeated, and the company applauded once again.
Outside, the musicians began to play, and passengers found their way to the main deck.
Meredith leaned over, tapping his glass against Dahlia’s. “Excellent speech,” he said.
“Thank you.”
He stood, putting a hand on the back of her chair. “I hear the waltz,” he said. “And it has been far too long since we enjoyed a dance together.”
Beneath the lights above the deck, he took her into his arms, and they stepped along with the music. Dahlia remembered the last time they had danced. She looked up at her partner. A curl had fallen across his forehead, and she brushed it away.
Meredith’s eyes were soft as he watched her; his smile was warm and familiar, and yet it made her chest burn.
“Would you do it all again?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“All of it. Everything that has happened in the last year, in the last week. Knowing how it would end, would you do it again?”
She considered what he meant. If the Dahlia who had rushed, weeping, from the Marquess of Molyneaux’s ballroom could have seen how happy she would be, she would have endured the humiliation a hundred times. Everything that had happened from that fateful moment had led her to this one. To this man. “I would,” she said firmly. “Would you?”
“I would change nothing,” he said. “Except perhaps the rashes.”
Dahlia loosened her grip on what must be a sore hand, wincing. “Will you join me on the SS Aurora ’s next cruise?” she asked. “You can shovel coal and climb rigging to your heart’s content.”
“Dahlia Lancaster, you do not even have to ask,” he said, drawing her away from the lighted portion of the deck. They slipped into shadow, and he cupped her chin, bringing her face to his. “My darling, I would follow you anywhere.”
The End