Page 87 of Inventing Vivian

Epilogue

Six weeks later

Vivian held Benedict’s hand asthey strolled along a curving path in his garden. The wedding banquet was finished, the bride and groom and guests were gone, and the two walked in silence, each enjoying the contented satisfaction that follows a happy event.

Benedict’s garden had been the perfect venue. He’d explained to her about the use of feng shui in the design. And although she did not put stock in such nonsense, she did find the garden to be very aesthetically pleasing. Wooden walkways curved here and there, leading through arrangements of trees, potted plants, rock arrangements, hanging chimes, and Chinese statuary. Vivian’s father had been exceptionally happy with the walkways, as they made rolling his wheeled chair through the garden much easier. The pond had been enlarged, and an arched bridge spanned it, giving an excellent view of the fountain and, beyond, the pavilion.

Vivian had only seen such buildings in photographs. Benedict’s pavilion had a green tiled roof with small stone figures on the turned-up corners. The columns and screens were made of wood, carved into complicated patterns, and painted red. Though it typically sat empty, today it held a long table for the wedding banquet.

Benedict had told her he’d wanted the wedding to be as traditional as possible, but in the planning, he’d made concessions. Some of the ceremonies required both parties’ parents to be present, which was impossible. And a wedding procession through the streets of London was not only impractical but dangerous with the amount of traffic in the city. In the end, the wedding was a blend of English and Chinese tradition. And Vivian thought it the loveliest event she’d ever attended.

The company had been small. Most of the guests were friends of Miss Pang’s from the Limehouse district. The only guests Zhang Wei had insisted upon were Mr. Thomas and Vivian’s family. The bride had worn a dress made of layer upon layer of red and gold silk. Her hair was arranged beneath an elaborate beaded headpiece that dangled tassels and silk flowers.

Zhang Wei’s clothing was simpler. He’d worn a collarless red silk jacket buttoned withkoupanknots and wide-legged black trousers.

Though Vivian couldn’t understand the words of the ceremony, she’d seen the loving glances between the couple and understood their promise to one another. She supposed, for some things, one did not need a translation.

Benedict had spared no expense when it came to the banquet. The tables were set with red tablecloths and napkins. Lanterns hung throughout the garden and from the pavilion ceiling, and candlelight reflected off the gold chopsticks. Servants had brought course after course of food Vivian had no name for. Her family had enjoyed the novelty of eating with chopsticks, and Chester had deemed fried rice the most delicious food he’d ever tasted. But the part of the banquet Vivian appreciated most was the use of dishes with patterns designed by Miss Yali Pang and produced in Benedict’s factory.

It seems he’d thought of everything. And, of course, he had. She knew of no man as considerate as Benedict.

As they crossed the bridge over the pond, Vivian stopped walking.

Benedict stopped as well, giving her a questioning look.

She tugged on his arm, pulling it behind her and wrapping her arms around him. She kissed him slowly.

When she pulled back, Benedict blinked. He slid his arms tighter around her waist. “What was that for? Not that I’m complaining if you wish to do it again.”

“I was just thinking how wonderful the day was. All the special details. You made them very happy.”

“I hope so.” His smile was genuine, but there was sadness in his eyes.

“You miss your friend,” Vivian said.

He nodded, swallowing. “I do.”

She laid her head on his chest, admiring how the lanterns glowed on the water in the fading twilight. “I understand.”

“You’re thinking about Miss Thornton.”

Vivian nodded. She could hardly bear to think of Hazel leaving to spend Christmas with her father in Spain. She worried for her friend, especially with the attacks of panic that Hazel suffered, especially in crowds. But Vivian worried also about how things were changing among the women of the Blue Orchid Society. First, Sophie was engaged, and now herself, and with Hazel away... it just felt so different.

“But you will see Zhang Wei often,” Vivian said. “He comes twice every week for kung fu with Chester, and of course you see Yali at the factory.” The patterns Yali designed had become unexpectedly popular among the ladies of London Society, and the factory was having a difficult time meeting demand. The new mechanical pottery wheels had made production faster and freed up more workers for design work. Benedict had started a training program for Yali to teach the younger factory workers with an artistic aptitude how to paint. Jack Archer, now much recovered from his bout of illness, was one of the most talented.

“It won’t be the same,” Benedict said. “He will live down in Limehouse and make friends there, and he’ll have a family and—”

“You will always be his friend,” Vivian said, laying a hand on his cheek. “It is like the Law of Consecration of Mass.”

“How so?”

Vivian recognized the tease in his smile and was glad to see it returned. She put her hands together as if she were holding a ball, then elongated it. “Matter can change form, but it cannot be created or destroyed. Just like your friendship. It may look different, but it is still there.” She grimaced, realizing how silly her premise was. “I suppose that analogy was rather a stretch.”

Benedict’s smile grew. “How did I ever find a woman as brilliant as you?” His words spread warmth through her like molecules moving through heated liquid.

“How did I find a man as kind as you?” She put her arms back around him. “I suppose we are a good match.”

“Just like gravity,” Benedict said. “We have a strong attraction to one another, and it increases...” Seeing Vivian shake her head, his voice trailed off.

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