"I'm sure." Her voice was perfectly steady. How much Jane had taught her. She'd needed to go back through time, needed to see things through different eyes, through a different and very courageous soul, in order to find peace within herself.

She would never, ever forget Emma. Though her health had been frail, the tiny woman had possessed the heart of a lion.

"Personally, I think the two of you are perfect for each other," Frances continued, her eyes on the road. "I knew from the moment you came to the house. Amelia, I never had any doubts, but there were times when I sensed you were afraid."

"I was. I'm not anymore."

"Good." Frances smiled, then reached for her hand and gave it a brief squeeze. "Don't think of me as an ogre of a mother-in-law, will you?"

"Never."

"I know I'm being overprotective, but Hugh is my firstborn, and holds a very special place in my heart. I know that must seem strange, what with seven other children, but-"

Amelia didn't hear any more; she turned her head ever so slightly so her future mother-in-law wouldn't see the sheen of tears in her eyes and misconstrue them.

She had eight children, not just Hugh.

Amelia remembered that day with John, when he showed her the family photos lining the walls. Hugh's teddy bear tea, how Frances had wanted more children, that awful fall from her horse. She'd bet there were many more photos along that wall now.

You'll have seven sisters and brothers now. And who knows how many nieces and nephews.

She sat forward in the car seat, and glanced at her future mother-in-law. Amelia had the feeling they were going to get along just fine.

"Anxious to get back?" Now Frances was smiling.

"Yes."

She was ready to be married.


******************

The wedding took place in the middle of the garden, in the early evening. The weather was gorgeous; everyone commented on it for weeks afterward. The garden was alive with starlings, sparrows, dogs, and cats. Children laughed and an excited anticipation seemed to grip the guests.

Amelia approached the heart of the garden with her father, along a walkway Penny had made through the grounds by draping and knotting white satin ribbon from tree to tree. Tiny white lights sparkled among the branches, making the garden seem magical, inhabited by fairies. The overlapping white runner, scattered with rose petals, protected the hem of her gown.

They reached the arch that Penny had designed, twined with more of Jonathan's lilies, and also gardenias, lilacs, and roses. Hugh looked so dashing in his cutaway suit, trousers, and wing-collar shirt. The expression on his face when he saw her approaching in her bridal finery made her glad he hadn't seen her in it before this moment in time.

Amelia and her father reached the altar, and she found this particular good-bye wasn't difficult at all. He squeezed her hand, then gave her over to Hugh with a wink that seemed to say, No backing out now. She smiled at Penny, her maid of honor, who was trying valiantly not to cry. Then Amelia handed her the bridal bouquet.

Peace filled her heart as she and Hugh faced the minister. Their wedding ceremony began.


******************

Afterward, she tried to find Annie, but couldn't.

"Where did she go?" she asked Hugh as they danced in the grand ballroom of Lindsey House. One of the advantages of marrying into an extremely wealthy English family was that you didn't have to worry about renting a hotel or a country club. The family estate was just fine.

There were a couple of tense moments, when she'd met up with a few of Hugh's former girlfriends, but nothing too harrowing. They were all congratulatory, a few even openly envious.

The day went by as if part of a dream. The toasts, the sit-down dinner, the dancing. She'd opted for candlelight, as it suited Lindsey House. The bride's table had been decorated with more flowers, and even the candelabra were trimmed with miniature white roses at the base of each candle. Penny had been allowed to go quite wild inside the estate, and staircases, columns, mantels, and archways were festooned with greenery. And flowers. Everywhere,, symbol of the day and what it meant to the Lindsey family both past and present.

The reception would last far into the night, but she and Hugh planned to retire early. They were leaving for Barbados in the morning for a monthlong honeymoon, and had to get off to an early start.

She threw her bouquet, and Hugh's younger sister, Olivia, caught it. Amelia took off her gown in the upstairs bedroom, with another maid's assistance. She dressed in a simpler outfit, then picked up the smaller going-away bouquet Penny had created for her and went back downstairs.

Amid showers of birdseed, rose petals, and congratulations, the couple left Lindsey House and walked across the moonlit lawns toward the small cottage on the edge of the woods that had been prepared for them.

Once inside, Hugh directed her toward the fireplace. He started a fire with swift economy, then handed her an elaborately wrapped package.

"Your bridal gift. It's late, I know. Your mother did me the favor of going into London this morning and picking it up. I had it re-covered for you."

He was running on; he was nervous! Hugh Lindsey was actually nervous! She remembered what his mother had said in the Range Rover that morning, about his sometimes formidable demeanor concealing the softness of his heart.

She'd never seen anything but that heart.

Her fingers trembled as she set down her bouquet and unwrapped the package. The lovely paper fell away, and she stared at the large, leather-bound book.

Before she even opened it, she knew what it was.

"Jonathan's journal," she whispered.

"Do you like it?" There was just an edge of apprehension to his voice.

"I love it; it means ever so much to me." She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, and when they finally came up for air, he grinned and cocked a rather arrogant eyebrow at her.

"Weddings. Bloody awful, aren't they?"

"Yes!" She laughed, and then he kissed her and everything faded away to be replaced by both love and desire, made stronger and more poignant for her because she knew in her heart how close she'd come to losing him.

He carried her to the bedroom, nudging the door open, and she cried out in delight. Penny had done her magical and transformative work here as well, with red rose petals showered across the bed, and flowers and candles everywhere.

"Champagne?" Hugh asked, and she saw the absolute delight in his eyes at her reaction to his surprise.

"Oh, Hugh…" She couldn't find the words.

"I just let her loose to do what she does best," he said, pouring the pale, sparkling liquid into one of two crystal flutes. He took a deep breath as he handed her the champagne. "I want you to be happy, Amelia."

"I am." She knew he was still worried about her doubts, but now she saw her fears for what they were, and they no longer had any power over her. That darkness had been lifted forever.

They sipped champagne, then kissed. Hugh lit a few more of the candles, then helped her out of her clothing, slowly, seducing her, kissing her, whispering words of endearment. She loved him for taking time with her, creating a moment she would remember all her life.

Because it was different now.

He joined her on the bed after shedding his own clothing, and emotion overwhelmed her. She felt as if she truly belonged to him. There would never be anyone else; there would never be any barriers between them. She gave herself to him with no reservations, no hesitations, knowing this was right, that they were right for each other.

That they were meant to be with each other at this exact moment in time.

She was lying on top of him when she suddenly cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, remembering the fear and her feelings of darkness and despair, not that long ago. Remembering that horrible feeling of not knowing if she would ever see him again. Realizing he might never be born.

A tear slipped out from beneath her lashes.

"Amelia?" Everything stopped as Hugh tightened his arms around her, holding her closely. "What's wrong?"

"I thought…" Her voice trembled. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Never." He kissed the single tear away. "Never in this lifetime, my darling."

"I know that now," she whispered against his chest. "Oh, Hugh, can you forgive me for being so frightened?"

"There's nothing to forgive."

She raised her head and looked down at him, saw such love in those dark blue eyes that she caught her breath.

"I knew," he whispered, touching her cheek, "the minute I saw you in the garden. That first day."

She nodded her head. "I did, too."

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Then why were you so frightened?"

She thought of the past before she'd gone back, and didn't know if she'd ever be able to explain it all to him. Someday. Not now. She didn't want to sacrifice this moment to any explanation.

"I couldn't explain those fears, even to myself." She kissed him then, and felt his hands in her hair as he moved against her, up over her, pressing her down into the bed. And mere seconds before they became one she gave a silent, thankful prayer that the Lindsey men were such passionate, understanding lovers, that they cherished their women even when they lost their way.

And that they had faith enough to sustain a marriage into eternity.

Later that night, Hugh fast asleep in their marital bed, Amelia crept down the stairs. The fire had burned low, but there was still just enough light left to read Jonathan's bold handwriting. She searched through the journal until toward the end, where she found the passage she needed to read.

Quite an extraordinary act, what Emma did. She restored my Jane's faith in the goodness of people. Her death had a shattering impact on Jane, both good and bad. It changed her forever, the way she looked at life. Including the way she looked at me.

Perhaps I have Emma to thank for that, as well. We were married only days after her death, and father fought me on that. I insisted Emma be buried in the family cemetery, and the old man fought me on that one, as well. But I won, and Emma was laid to rest. I wrote to all her relatives, but no one ever came for any of her things.

I wondered at that.

We don't speak of Emma, though I know both of us think of her daily. Jane might have been killed, or could have succeeded in taking her life had Emma not intervened.

There was one evening when Jane insisted she'd been in the presence of a heavenly being. She told me Emma had said she was from a long way away, and my Jane took that to mean Heaven. An angel, a heavenly creature, she told me, visited this house and blessed its occupants.

/ don't really know. I don't know if it matters. All that matters is that Jane and I have each other, and the children. She is a different woman from the headstrong, scared, and selfish little creature I had the good fortune to fall in love with. She was profoundly transformed that night, convinced that a merciful God sent an angel in the form of a plump little serving girl to help her see her life. What it was meant to be. What it could be.

Thus, my darling, headstrong, romantic girl has taken it upon herself to single-handedly rescue any unfortunate member of my family. She says that as she has none, this gives her something to do. Just this morning, we arranged for some cousins from the North to come live with us…

Amelia stopped reading, her question answered. Hugh had been spared, but she hadn't known why. Now she did. In saving Jane's life, she had put an extraordinary chain of events into action, all of them good.

Why had she assumed it was a bad thing, to try and change the past? Why had every novel she'd ever read assumed that fact? She turned several of the journal's pages, enjoying the feel of the paper, studying Jonathan's bold handwriting, until another phrase caught her eye.

Thus we were taught the ultimate lesson. That faith, if shared, creates faith. That hope, if encouraged, creates hope. And that love, once given, creates an infinite form of that emotion, so that no one need ever want for it.

How true. There were only a few paragraphs left, and Amelia scanned them quickly.

My only regret in this life is that I never had a chance to thank Emma. I did so for her part in bringing my Jane safely home, but she died before I had a chance to tell her how thankful I was she fought Jane's misguided will and kept her alive.