Yay Epilogue! Thank you so much for all the reviews so far! This was a fun story to write. Enjoy!

A few months have passed since the RMS Umbria left England to send me hurtling into a vast ocean of change. I'll start with our arrival at Ellis Island. It was a tricky business for Simon to convince the officials of my death by cholera aboard the ship, as there were no records to be found. However, a few slipped pound notes did the trick as he later informed me with a wink.

Kartik and I were surprisingly an easier deception to pull off. Our remaining time on the ship had provided us ample time to recreate our past together. Unfortunately, that meant wiping out all signs of gypsies and evil sorceresses, but in our case truth would earn us each an X circled in chalk by the medical officials, because certainly such poppycock is a sign of mental disease.

So our past is plausible but rather dull. Our fathers were both wealthy businessmen and friends that often worked together to cut major deals. After a particularly profitable partnership was attained overseas, a party was held in celebration, Kartik and I met, and the rest was history. Oh yes, and Kartik was also born a Christian, thanks to the wonders of English colonization in India. Needless to say, he had a bit of trouble keeping a straight face telling that lie.

It is with great pride that Kartik and I are finally recognized as husband and wife, by law, and that Simon and I are, also by law, not. But Simon is not gone from my life for good. He remained in the City of New York for a few weeks after our arrival and saw to it that I received my inheritance and was settled. Now that he has returned to England, he still sends me the odd letter of this and that every once in a while. He has most recently written that Felicity does not believe in my death at all and regularly bombards him with questions about my whereabouts. I am still deciding if I should send her my new address.

Kartik and I let a fine apartment in Midtown Manhattan, a section of the city quite similar to London. It is comfortable, though quite noisy at all times of the day. I have the most trouble getting Victoria settled down to sleep, but that is in part due to the sharp new teeth tearing through her gums. It is a blessing that Kartik and I get any sleep at all.

Despite the noise and considerable pollution, New York City has earned it's respectable title as part of the New World. America is much more relaxed than England, whether it is fashion, high society or even the treatment of immigrants. In England, the best job Kartik could hope to attain despite his education would probably be as some third class worker, in a factory or on a ship. Here, his knack for languages has earned him a respectable spot working within a foreign embassy.

As for myself, I am no longer content to sit around doing nothing, especially as there are no longer any social calls to make or receive. I have been writing a lot, about my past and all of my experiences. I had been recalling the day I first met Simon Middleton, when I remembered something my brother once said.

"Ah, yes. The famous Doyle imagination. She's likely to become a writer of mystery novels, our Gemma."

And it hits me – why shouldn't I? I certainly have enough mystery in my past to write about. The idea of becoming a published writer thrills me. I wait until Kartik returns home from work and pulls off his hat and scarf before I bombard him. I speak in an excited hush, for I had spent the better part of the afternoon putting our daughter to bed.

"Kartik, I've a marvelous idea!"

He bends to kiss me first before he responds. "Does it involve my wife in naughty lingerie?" he asks with a wicked smile.

"Well, I suppose it can, but that's not my point."

"Right then, what is your point?"

I wrap my arms around his neck. "I am going to be a writer."

He pretends to consider this as a bad idea. "I don't know, Gemma. Aren't authors supposed to have lived fascinating lives in which to base their fiction off of? I rather think you are too dull for that."

I play along. "Well I've taken that into consideration and I've decided to write under a different persona, so no one knows that I am really just a boring girl with a boring husband."

"So what shall the publishers say about the author then?"

"I am a forty-two year old spinster living in a penthouse with my thirteen cats."

"Thirteen? Isn't that bad luck?"

I wink at him. "I like to live life on the edge."

He laughs. "Of course you do."

I fiddle with the buttons on his starched white shirt, pulling open a few to reveal a delicious spot of skin to kiss. "Victoria's asleep," I murmur. I can taste a hint of soap from his morning shower. "What were you saying about your wife in lingerie before?"

"Mmm." He reaches for his hat again and places a finger to my lips. "Hold that thought, darling. I've just remembered something I must do." And before I can protest, perhaps show him a little leg to change his mind, he is out the door.

It isn't long before Kartik returns, this time carrying a rather large box in his arms.

"What is this?" I ask, standing to fix the hat that threatens to fall over his face.

He smiles widely. "I got you a present." He sets the box on the table. "Open it."

I pull open the flaps to reveal a shiny black typewriter. "Oh Kartik, you didn't!"

"Oh Gemma, I did."

I run a finger over the brass keys. "Darling…thank you so much." I cup his face in my hands and kiss him. "This means the world to me."

"Then you deserve it," he whispers, returning my kisses. "So." He spins me around. "I have my wife…but is she wearing any naughty lingerie?" He reaches for the sash of my dress.

I swat his hand away playfully. "Now, now, Kartik, you're just going to have to wait. I have a new toy to play with."

He sighs dramatically. "Oh, the sacrifices we must make for love." Like a good sport, he helps me set up the typewriter at the desk by the window overlooking the street. Just as I sit down, Victoria wakes up. Her shrill cries fill the apartment. Kartik squeezes my shoulder. "I'll take care of it, darling."

"Thank you," I say gratefully, tilting my head to receive another kiss. I run a sheet of paper through the machine as per the instruction manual says, and place my fingers on the keys. Nothing comes.

With a sigh, I gaze out the window onto the street below. People amble by, passed by bicycles and horses alike. It is nearing autumn now, and the trees are a vivid canvas of golds and reds. Fall has also been a special time for me, a time of memory and reflection. I recall the days when I was at Spence, running through the changing forest with Felicity, Ann, and Pippa, how I'd always secretly hope to bump into a certain Indian boy with a makeshift cricket bat. I suppose I never once imagined I'd ever end up married to him, but now that I am, I'd never wish for it to be any other way.

I have not seen my friends in many months, years even. I know that Pippa is no longer a worry; she has crossed over like she needed to, and that is all I could have ever prayed for. But Ann and Felicity… I do not know how they are. They could be alright, or they could be miserable, but either way, I'd never know.

For so long I've been preoccupied with my own life, as I had right to, but now there is no valid reason why I shouldn't care about their lives.

"Writer's block already, Gemma?" Kartik stands in the doorway, Victoria babbling away happily in his arms.

"I'm just thinking," I say, smiling. He nods and walks back into the nursery.

I turn my attention once more to the street below. A girl is selling small bundles of tiny white flowers to passersby. Lilies of the Valley – the return of happiness. My smile widens as I begin typing.

Dear Felicity…

I have returned to happiness and I'd really like to take my friends with me.

Finite. I liked this ending. I thought it was cute. Your thoughts?

Now plays Guitar Hero on expert,
LunaEquus

(Alright, only some songs, but still. Expert is expert!)