March 20th, 1892 — St.John-Black Home

Samuel had kept nothing of his correspondence with Melody Crouch a secret from his wife. The news of Melody's injury and subsequent memory loss could have caused chaos in their home - the fact that for an, albeit brief time she had thought that she was still engaged to Samuel had been a strange thing to discover. The truth had come out quickly but her letter had given Samuel good closure. The ability to finally put a full stop on that entire sorry portion of his life and put the record straight for both himself and Melody. And he found his anger at the original betrayal was all but gone. He carried no animus towards either of them any more, and felt the need to build some sort of bridge between himself and the crouches, not through any misconcieved affection, but in acknowledgement that his life was better for her actions, and how could one be annoyed at that.

At the arrival of the latest letter, he had written his response -polite and strangely final - the last he hoped he would speak to melody about what shared past they had but with the potential to perhaps move forward. Then he had headed to her parlour. 'Good morning my love' he greeted entering her room and crossing to kiss her, placing Melody's latest letter on a side table. 'Might I join you for tea?' a footman disappeared, presuming an affirmative answer.

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