A/N: I am very sorry for taking so long to finish this story. This is the final chapter. I've really enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it. Thank you to all the people who have been following this story and reviewing. Your input and encouragement means a lot!

Mary stayed in London alone a few days to get linens and clothes and household items she had not found abroad. She found everything she needed, at least until the next time she went to London, and got on the train. Her uncle had a valet pick her up at the station.

When she arrived at her dear, dear Misselthwaite Manor, she began packing up all her things to be sent to Dickon's house.

"Just think, if you'd married me, you wouldn't have to pack at all," Colin joked as he watched his cousin pack.

"I thought you had views about cousins marrying," Mary muttered. She was too preoccupied with organizing her needlepoint materials to get annoyed with him.

"Well, most cousins. However, we're of excellent stock," Colin said.

"No we're not! We were both terribly sickly and weak as children. In fact, our bloodline is getting an infusion of truly strong Sowerby blood. The scientist in you should be thanking me," Mary said.

"I have to say, I do thank you, for finding such a good man to make your husband. I would've hated it if you had found some awful man I couldn't stand to be around and I then wouldn't be able to see you anymore," Colin said.

"You mean it was that easy to get rid of you all along?" Mary smiled.

"You and Dickon must come to dinner once, no twice a week," Colin said.

"But I'm already visiting with your uncle every morning. At this rate, I oughtn't to have moved out at all. I should have had Dickon move in," Mary said.

"You could, you know," Colin said.

"I hope you're joking. I know you will marry someday, and I have no wish to be a guest in my own house. I want to run my own household, and plan my own meals, and live my own life," Mary said crossly. She noticed Colin smiling at her, and she smiled back. "Yes, that did make me less sad about leaving. Thank you."

"Anytime," Colin said, and then he drifted off to see what was happening in the rest of the house.

The day of the wedding seemed as though it was going to be grey and grim, but around nine the sun burned through the clouds and warmed the day.

They were getting married in the morning, and Mary couldn't wait to get started. She didn't like being the centre of attention, and she wished she could just skip the ceremony and get to the marriage—but she couldn't do that.

She examined her dress in the mirror. It was a pale green silk dress with a drop waste, decorated in colourful flowers crafted with silk thread and pearls. She had bought the dress because it reminded her of the garden, and as she couldn't get married in the garden, she wanted something to remind both of them where they started.

She could still remember telling Martha she loved Dickon, and he was beautiful, when she was just a little girl. Martha had looked at her like she was mad. Mary hadn't changed much, apparently; she still loved the boy madly, although Dickon now fit the conventional view of beauty a lot more than he had then.

She readied herself in the antechamber of the church, and asked her uncle how many people were in the church.

"I've never seen so many people wedge themselves into such a tiny church," Archibald said.

"I bet you never thought the Sowerby family would even be invited to a family wedding, let alone marrying one of your children," Mary said. "Do you mind much?"

"England is changing, my dear," Archibald said. "Some of the old folk here might grumble and call Dickon and upstart, but look at Europe—empires are falling. Great changes are coming, and in such days, it's best not to hold onto the past too tightly."

"Besides, I'm only a penniless relation," Mary grinned.

"Keep telling yourself that after Dickon tells you what I've given you to start your new life together," Archibald said, his eyes twinkling.

Mary raised her hands to her face, trying not to cry "Don't tell me! I'll only cry and I don't cry prettily. Let's get this over with."

"I'll just see if everyone's ready. By god this might be the first wedding in history to start when it's supposed to," Archibald said.

He returned quickly, although to Mary it felt like an hour. "Are we ready?" she asked, and then she heard the music start.

The wedding was beautiful, and Colin had probably spent a mint on the roses. They lined the pews of the church and burst triumphantly from the altar. In a way Mary felt as though she was in the garden, because she was with Dickon, and Colin and her uncle Archibald, and it was the garden that had brought them together, and made four very different people into a family.

Soon Mary and Dickon would have a family of their own, and hopefully they would play in the garden with Colin's children.

The moment came for Dickon to kiss the bride, and he gave her a chaste kiss. Mary found herself distracted by the cheers and whooping—the priest had probably never heard that kind of commotion in his little country church before. She'd probably never hear the end of it, she thought, laughing.

"Are you happy, Mary?" Dickon asked her.

"So much. Are you happy?" Mary asked.

"More than I ever thought I could be," Dickon said, smiling down at her with his moor-blue eyes.

The wedding lunch was far more luxurious and expensive than she would ever have planned herself. Susan Sowerby was appalled by the expense—but she had had weeks to prepare herself.

"Ah cun't do now't to stop those rascals," she said. "Men don't 'ave sense."

"Don't worry tha sen. It were a beautiful wedding," Mary said.

"Oh tha has made us proud," Susan said, grabbing Mary and kissing her soundly on both cheeks.

Finally Mary and Dickon made their exit from the party and traveled to their home. The maids had already unpacked Mary's bags (before they went to the wedding, of course) and there was nothing to do but get a tour of the place. There was no staff in the house, for privacy's sake, and the cook had left a nice stew and a loaf of break in the kitchen for their dinner.

"Dinner? I might never eat again," Mary said.

"Do you like the house?" Dickon asked.

Mary looked at her husband, thrilling at the thought that he was hers, and he was her husband, and he would be hers always. "I love it. It's absolutely perfect."

"I thought you'd want to redecorate. Isn't that what new brides do?" Dickon teased.

"I don't know. Can we afford that?" Mary asked.

"Your uncle gave us an income. Did he not tell you that? I really am a gentleman doctor now, who need not work," Dickon said.

"I thought he was joking about that," Mary said. "How long and how hard did you argue about this with him?"

"I told him no flat out about a thousand times. It didn't do any good. He even said I should consider it your dowry," Dickon said.

"What a sweet old-fashioned notion. I suppose that makes it mine to spend?" Mary joked.

"I don't think that's how dowries work. It's more like a pay-off from a father-in-law to take a troublesome daughter off his hands," Dickon said.

"Oh, I'm troublesome now, am I?" Mary said. She put her arms around Dickon's neck and without hesitation he bent down to kiss her more passionately then he had ever done before.

"Yes, very troublesome," Dickon murmured against her lips, nudging her nose with his own.

"How is that?" Mary asked, angling up for another kiss. This one warmed her from head to toe and made her unstable on her legs—but this was a pleasant feeling, a beautiful languor, not the weakness she had experienced before.

"You turned my life upside down," Dickon said. He laughed slightly and leaned lower and kissed her neck. It tickled and she laughed in a throated, wicked way.

"I'm not sorry," she said.

"And then you turned it topsy-turvy, and then you made me want you so much I could hardly breathe in the same room with you. Did you know that? You make me catch my breath," he said.

"If you want me, then make me your wife," she said.

"Mary, Mary," Dickon said, nuzzling her neck. "I love thee."

"Oh Dickon," Mary said. "I love thee, too."