"What?"
"That love cannot be held by force." He lifted her hand. "It has to be freely given."
She kissed him.
Outside, the estate bell rang. Their daughter came running into the room.
"Mama, Papa, the bird has something!"
Julian closed his eyes. "Of course it does."
Eliza laughed.
The girl held up a tiny silver key. Julian stared at it. "Where did you find that?"
"The bird dropped it."
He looked at Eliza. She looked at him.
Henry appeared behind the child. "I told you that bird was trouble."
Julian pointed at him. "You trained it."
Henry raised both hands. "Not my fault."
They followed the child into the garden. The bird flew from branch to branch. The little girl ran beneath it. Eliza called after her: "Slow down!"
Julian laughed. "She has your stubbornness and your suspiciousness."
"Then we are doomed."
The bird finally landed on the fountain. The girl held out her hand. It dropped the key into her palm. She looked at her parents. "What does it open?"
Julian looked toward the old house. He smiled. "I suppose we are about to find out."
Eliza slipped her arm through his. "Another adventure, apparently."
"Ready?"
He looked at her. "As long as you are with me."
She smiled.
They followed their daughter toward the house. The old drawing room door stood open. Sunlight crossed the floor. Julian paused for one second. He remembered a foolish declaration, a frightened woman, a stolen necklace, a bird that had somehow changed the course of two lives. Then Eliza took his hand. He stepped through the doorway with her—not because a promise had forced him, but because after all those years, he still wanted to. And that was the difference: the first time she entered that room, neither of them knew what would happen. This time, they knew exactly what they were choosing.
Each other.
The little key opened a box hidden beneath the old staircase. Inside were photographs, letters, and a miniature portrait of Eleanor Ashford wearing the same necklace.
Eliza lifted the portrait. "She looks like me."
Julian studied it. "She has your eyes. And your family."
"That is less fortunate." She laughed.
One letter explained that Eleanor had once been pressured into a marriage she did not want. She refused, chose the man she loved, and nearly lost her inheritance because of it.
Eliza read the final sentence aloud: "A woman should never be given a life she did not choose." She looked at Julian. "That sounds familiar."
He nodded. "It does."
Their daughter leaned over the box. "Did she marry for love?"
"Yes," Eliza said.
"Was she happy?"
Julian looked at his wife. "Yes."
The child smiled. "Then I want that, too."
Eliza's expression softened. "So do I."
Their daughter ran away with the miniature portrait. Julian watched her go.
"We should probably teach her not to steal family artifacts."