A/N: Hey everyone! So this is the end, the last chap. It's somehow sad to end the story, but I'm happy that I managed to go through with it until the very end. Please enjoy!

Chapter 30: Never Let Go

With great delicacy she put her arms through the sleeves of the gown, carefully not to damage the fine lace. Then she stroked over the lace covered velvet of her skirts with her palms, leaving no chance for wrinkles in the expensive fabric. She did not understand why she had to wear such an exquisite dress. Its beauty did not fit the occasion at all.

"What a pity! The colour is ruining everything." Isabeau sighed heavily and closed the last buttons of the black gown on Georgiana's nape. Her discomfort was obvious. "I shall miss you a great deal."

"And I will miss you. When I first came here I dreaded the very sight of the old building, but now…I somehow feel at home here."

"Can Stefanie and I not come with you?" Her eyes were practically begging her.

"But Isa, you have your life here and so does Stefanie. And besides, I'll come and visit as often as possible."

"But you will be so far away. I won't see you for years."

Georgiana hugged her friend tightly and gave her a peck on the cheek. "I promise that I will try to come as often as possible. And I'll send you letters all the time. Some of the others can read. We will stay in contact."

"I guess that's the best I can get. I'm still going to miss you." Isabeau walked to a nearby stool and held up a purple scarf, embroidered with birds and maple leafs. "It's cold outside."

"Thank you." She wrapped the scarf tightly around herself. She tugged her hands under her elbows so that no one would see her trembling fingers. She took a deep breath and left the room.

She knew that today would not be easy. She would have to say goodbye to so many people. The mere thought provoked nausea.

When she entered the kitchen Clarice almost ran towards her, seeming agitated. "We have a problem – one of Antoine's men will attend the ceremony as well."

"But that is exactly what we've expected." She was confused.

"Yes, but what if he discovers something? As far as we know only Antoine and the men who were here that night know what happened. What if he asks how it happened, when iit happened? What if he knows something?"

"Well, we have to careful during the whole time."

Clarice's voice went lower and it was difficult to understand her words. "And the duke of Orléans has requested to be present as well. They'll both observe us closely."

Georgiana answered in an equally low tone. "If they should find out, then the king will know of it too. It won't be safe anywhere in the whole of France."

Clarice sighted. Then her eyes lit up. "I'm happy that the gown fits you. I just hope that you'll never have to wear it twice in your life, even though that is probably inevitable. Nice colour." She managed to smile a bright smile and Georgiana chuckled.

"Yours too." She actually did admire the silver and black embroidery on the elderly woman's smoky grey gown. Together they exited the kitchen and went for the gardens.

A crisp winter breeze met them outside. But for January it was a nice sunny day. The ceremony was to be held at the rose beds behind the house. Upon their arrival she saw that Adelaide was already there together with Christine and the Martin's. She managed to smile a little, but the shadow would not leave her face.

She walked up to them, leaving Clarice to talk to some of the farmer's wives, and embraced her mother and sister. Only Edmond was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you for coming." She was so happy that she did not have to do this alone.

Christine seemed to know exactly what she was thinking and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. "You'll never be alone."

Georgiana had related to her a few days ago all that really had happened between herself and Antoine and she had spoken to her for the first time about what actually had happened during her stay in the château. Christine had been outraged and she still felt sorry for not having realized earlier that her Georgie had gone through a lot. She of course knew as well that Georgiana could name a list of places she'd rather be right now than here. The auburn-haired girl's discomfort was almost tangible.

More people came – peasants, craftsmen, nobles and servants from the surrounding estates. All came to pay their respect to the former duke of Milan. When the priest eventually arrived the torture began.

She could not do it. She could not stay calm when the priest's words sank into her conscience. Words of death and redemption, of love and God's mercy. Once or twice a tear escaped the corner of her eye, while she stared with blank eyes as the coffin was put into the hole in the frozen ground of the flower bed. She squeezed Christine's hand and carefully looked around. With great surprise she spotted Edmond standing at a distant corner. His eyes too were on the clergyman.

Finally the funeral ended and she walked to the fair young man. He looked tired. She guessed that her own appearance was not better.

"You came."

"Yes, Michel takes care of Papa."

"I'm so happy that he gets better with every day."

"He's not the only one." He stared at her with an expression she could not read.

She knew he was sorry. Sorry for what happened in general, sorry for his own faults. She knew that, but she could not forgive him entirely. There was a conspicuous gash in their relationship and she did not know if they could ever truly trust each other again. But he still loved her and she loved him. He would always be a part of her. Her family, her friend.

"So, is this the last time we see each other?" He asked with a sign. Christine walked up to them and linked her arm through Georgiana's.

"No, I'll come over to see you all tomorrow. And I'll come and visit you whenever possible."

Christine shook her head. "But England is so far away. Are you sure you must leave?"

"There is no alternative. After all that happened it is not safe to stay here. And by leaving you I can keep you from danger."

"We don't want to be safe without you. You're a part of this family as well."

"What if the king finds out? What if he comes here?"

"But…"

"She's right, Christine." Edmond placed a hand on his sister's shoulder. Then he looked at Georgiana. "Do whatever has to be done. But don't forget to visit from time to time." He smiled at her, reminding her again of the little boy she had grown up with.

She met his smile with an equally bright one. "I promise."

They all laughed a little. "Well, at least there were not so many present as it had been the case with Antoine's funeral."

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While walking up the stairs of the old estate she tried to take as much in as possible. The frescos on the high ceilings, the marble sculptures and busts displayed along the walls, the deep and warm colours - She would never see them again. She sneaked through the long corridors, eventually reaching the desired rooms. She pushed the doors open and looked around. She was alone. The chamber was cleaned up, no glass or sheet music on the ground, and one of the windows was open. Then she stepped inside. How many hours she had spent inside this apartment! During the last week she had barely ever left it. She smiled when she saw the piano forte, its dark wood sparkling in the January sun. She sat down on the long stool and her fingers stroked over the keys. She blushed at a certain memory.

Flashback:

They had agreed to meet in his apartment in five minutes, but she could not wait any longer. Too great was her eagerness. She wanted to continue the discussion they had had the previous day. He had taught her some geography by using the globe on his desk, and when he had pointed a finger at Egypt they had began to discuss the countries long history and culture. It fascinated her to hear about distant countries from his lips. His descriptions always were so vivid.

When she pushed his door open she stopped mid-track. He was sitting at the piano, one hand playing with the keys, the other holding a feather and writing on an empty piece of sheet music. He seemed to be unhappy with the result, as he constantly stroke parts off, replacing them with new notes.

She carefully sneaked in, hoping not to disturb him, but he of course knew that she was there. "Come in." He did not look up, but he did slide away, making space for her. She gladly took the seat.

It was so interesting to watch him work. He never seemed to be satisfied with any of his notes. When it became too much she had to stop him. "No, please, leave that part. It's beautiful."

He chuckled. "What do you know about that? You don't know to play the piano." But his eyes had sparkled with obvious jest. That brought an idea into her mind.

She gasped. "You could teach me!"

"What?" His complete bafflement had caused her to laugh.

"No really, you could teach me."

"But it needs years of training until one can actually play. Do you have some knowledge in music theory?"

"No, but if you will teach me it won't be so hard."

"Why do you even want to learn?"

She looked at the keys, her fingers delicately brushing over them. "My mother, my real mother knew how to play. I remember her playing when we still lived in our house. I was young, but it's the most vivid memory I own of her." She snorted, then she met his eyes, pleading silently.

He returned her glimpse for what seemed like eternity, then he nodded. "Alright, I'll play a chain of notes and you'll try to memorize them and play them in the right order afterwards." When they repeated the exercise he began to play longer chains. As the pieces grew more and more complicated she had difficulty following.

After some unsuccessful attempts on her side he shook his head.

"No, look. You have to do it like this…don't push the keys down, stroke them, very lightly." He put his hands on hers from behind her back. It felt like an embrace and she forgot to breathe for a few seconds.

"That way you can control the volume. Sometimes it gives more feeling to a melody."

His knowing hands guided her over the keys.

End of Flashback:

She tried to recall the music and her fingers began to move on their own. The bitter-sweet melody brought wonderful memories back. What a nice diversion from reality.

Suddenly strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist and she felt a pair of hot lips on her nape. She sighed. No, reality was so much better! With eyes closed she leaned into the embrace. They silently held each other like this. There was no need for words.

However after some time he broke the silence. "What are you thinking right now?"

"How much I'm going to miss all of this."

"You don't have to miss it. You can stay here."

She instantly turned and looked at him. "Cináed, we talked about this. I'm coming with you." And indeed the subject had been the cause of many fights and discussions that week.

"But you won't see your family for a long time. England is not France. I cannot take you away from your home."

"My home is wherever you are." She replied in a sober voice.

He ran with his fingers through his hair. "What if you'll regret it?" He really looked concerned and then she realized that he was as nervous as she was. This was all new for him as well. Not only was he fully human after nearly a thousand years, but he also was concerned for her.

She looked down, her eyes fixed on the collar of his shirt. She could see two scars on the bottom of his throat, barely visible against his alabaster skin. Both of them were reminders of the events that had occurred a week ago. "I won't." Then she looked up at him. "I won't".

He only shook his head. "féinmharfach cailín." He whispered under his breath. The words brought a weak smile on her lips.

"I'm not the only suicidal person here. During the ceremony I…what if it had not turned out like this? We did this to fool the others, but…I was constantly reminded that it could've come true." Her voice broke. The pictures of his bloody lifeless body, the sound of his screams and groans…they were imprinted in her mind for all eternity.

He looked her in the eyes and she threatened to drown in the deep seas of mercury and silver. His hand cupped her cheek. "I'm here now. That's all that matters." Then he touched her forehead with his. She breathed in his scent and closed her eyes once more.

Yes he was there and she would never let go of him again.

The End

Translation Irish-English:

féinmharfach cailín: suicidal girl

A/N: I hope you all like the ending (I could not let him die). Thank you to everyone who read this story. Your kind reviews encouraged me to continue with it. And to the people who have never left a review: The fact that you actually read up to this point means alot to me. Thank you and I wish you all a nice day!

Sequel is now in progress ! ^_^