20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

M aude Rosier smoothed her skirts as she settled into the chaise longue in Iris's bedchamber. Her sister sat across from her, a delicate china teacup balanced in her hands. The familiar scene felt oddly distorted, like viewing a painting through warped glass.

"How are the wedding preparations coming along?" Iris inquired, her voice carrying a note of forced cheer that made Maude's heartache.

"Oh, splendidly," Maude replied, striving for nonchalance. "Though I must confess, the endless fittings and decisions are quite exhausting. I never knew choosing between ivory and cream could be so taxing."

Iris laughed, a sound that was at once familiar and strange. "I can only imagine. It must be wonderful, though, to be so in love."

Maude's smile faltered. She longed to tell her sister that she, too, had known such love—a passionate, all-consuming affection. But their mother's stern warning echoed in her mind: "Not a word about Lord Thornbrook, Maude. We must protect Iris from that scandal."

"It is... nice," Maude said carefully. "Though I daresay you and Lord Edgar seem quite well-suited."

Iris's brow furrowed slightly. "Yes, I suppose we are. He's very... kind."

The hesitation in her sister's voice was unmistakable. Maude leaned forward, her conscience warring with her loyalty to her parents. "Iris, do you truly care for Lord Edgar?"

Iris set her teacup down with a soft clink. "I... I'm not sure. I know I should. Everyone tells me how devoted he is and how fortunate I am. But something feels... off." She shook her head, frustration evident in the set of her shoulders. "Perhaps it's just the accident. My memories are still so muddled."

Maude's heart clenched. She thought of the passionate words Iris had spoken to her about Lord Thornbrook, the way her sister's eyes had sparkled. How different their conversations were from the polite, tepid conversations she now endured with Lord Edgar.

"Iris," Maude began hesitantly, "do you remember anything about your music? Before the accident, I mean."

Iris's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes! I've been practicing, you know. It's strange—my fingers seem to remember the notes even when my mind does not." She paused, a distant look crossing her face. "Sometimes, when I play, I feel... something. Like a memory just out of reach."

Maude's resolve wavered. She thought of Lord Thornbrook, of the anguish in his eyes when he had been turned away from Rosewood Manor. Of the music that had drifted across the grounds, a desperate attempt to reach Iris's lost memories.

"You were quite accomplished," Maude said softly. "You used to play the most beautiful duets with—" She caught herself, heart racing. "With... various partners. "

Iris leaned forward, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Really? I don't recall ever playing with anyone else."

"You did. You had a music teacher…Lord Thornbrook," Maude said tentatively.

Iris's mouth fell open at the name. "Thornbrook…"

"You know him?"

"I…not really. Except for a brief encounter a few days ago."

Maude's breath caught in her throat. "What encounter?"

Iris waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it was nothing, really. He came to the house to talk to Papa. But when I saw him, I felt... something. A sort of fluttering in my chest. Silly, I know."

Maude's mind raced. She thought of the letters their mother had discovered of them and the way Iris's eyes shone when she spoke of Lord Thornbrook's latest composition. Of the fierce arguments between Iris and their mother, culminating in that fateful ride.

"It's not silly at all," Maude said carefully. "Lord Thornbrook is... an old acquaintance of the family. You two were quite... close."

Iris's brow furrowed. "Close? But Mama seems to dislike him. And no one will speak of him."

Maude opened her mouth, teetering on the brink of revelation. But the memory of her mother's stern face, of the potential scandal that could ruin them all, stayed her tongue.

"It's... complicated," she said at last. "Perhaps it's best not to dwell on the past. Tell me, have you decided what to wear to the wedding?"

Maude's heart grew heavy as Iris launched into discussing potential dresses. She watched her sister, so familiar yet so changed, and wondered if she had made the right choice in holding her tongue.

The days leading up to Maude's wedding passed in a flurry of activity. Rosewood Manor buzzed with seamstresses, florists, and an endless parade of well-wishers. Iris threw herself into the preparations with gusto, grateful for the distraction from her muddled thoughts.

As she helped Maude sort through piles of fabric swatches and floral arrangements, Iris couldn't shake the feeling that she had done this before. Snippets of conversation, half-remembered jokes, danced at the edges of her consciousness.

"What do you think of these roses for the centerpieces?" Maude asked, holding up a bouquet of pale pink blooms.

Iris reached out to touch a delicate petal, and suddenly, she was elsewhere. A memory, vivid and fleeting, washed over her:

She stood in this very room with a letter in her hands, the handwriting bold yet unfamiliar…From the letter came the scent of roses, overwhelmingly sweet…

A single red rose was attached to the letter, its deep crimson petals a stark contrast to the cream-colored paper. She was reading the letter, and its handwriting was unlike any she had seen before. Fragments of phrases danced at the edges of her mind:

"...by any other name..."

"...depth of my regard..."

"...our own poetry through music..."

The ghost of a laugh echoed in her ears, accompanied by a deep, rich voice she couldn't quite place. A feeling of warmth spread through her chest, followed by a sharp pang of longing for something—or someone—she couldn't remember.

The signature was obscured as if the memory protected the writer's identity. In her mind, she brought the rose to her nose, inhaling deeply, and at that moment, she could almost hear herself laughing.

Iris blinked, the fleeting sensations fading as quickly as they had come. She found Maude staring at her, concern etched across her features.

"Iris? Are you quite well? You went terribly pale for a moment."

Iris shook her head, trying to clear the fog of her memory. The lingering scent of roses seemed to cling to her. "I'm fine," she managed, her voice slightly unsteady. "Just... a bit overwhelmed, I suppose. The flowers are lovely."

What were these strange flashes of memory? And why did they stir such powerful emotions within her? She couldn't shake the feeling that something important—something vital to understanding herself—lay just beyond her grasp.

Maude's eyes narrowed, but she didn't press the issue. "Perhaps we should take a break. Why don't you go through the sheet music for the ceremony? I believe it's in the music room.

Grateful for the reprieve, Iris made her way to the familiar sanctuary of the music room. The grand pianoforte stood in the center, its polished surface gleaming in the afternoon light. Iris ran her fingers along the keys, longing wistfully for something she couldn't remember.

A particular piece caught her eye as she sorted through the stack of sheet music. The title, written in an elegant hand, read: "For Maude—A Wedding Gift."

Without thinking, Iris settled onto the piano bench and began to play. The notes flowed from her fingers with a surety that surprised her. As the melody filled the room, emotions she couldn't name welled up inside her. Joy, sorrow, longing—all intertwined in a tapestry of sound.

She was so lost in the music that she didn't hear the door open. Lady Rosier stood on the threshold, her face a mask of conflicting emotions. For a long moment, she simply watched, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Iris turned, startled by her mother's presence. "Mama! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

Lady Rosier held up a hand, silencing her. For a moment, Iris thought she might say something—might finally explain the myriad of secrets that seemed to hover just out of reach. But then her mother's expression hardened, and she turned on her heel, leaving Iris alone with the echoes of the haunting melody.

Confused and unsettled, Iris sought out Maude again. She found her sister in the garden, overseeing the arrangement of lanterns for the upcoming celebration.

"Maude," Iris said, her voice low and urgent. "I need to speak with you."

Sensing her sister's distress, Maude excused herself from the workers and led Iris to a secluded bench beneath a weeping willow.

"What's troubling you?" Maude asked, taking Iris's trembling hands in her own.

Iris took a deep breath, trying to organize her jumbled thoughts. "I... I played a piece of music just now. Your wedding gift, the sheet said, but Maude, I've never seen it before in my life. How could I play it so perfectly?"

Maude's face paled. "Iris, I—"

"And that's not all," Iris continued, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I keep having these... flashes. Memories, I think, but they don't make sense. Yet they feel so real. But it can't be, can it? Surely I would remember something so important?"

Maude bit her lip, torn between her loyalty to her parents and her love for her sister. She thought of Lord Thornbrook, of the passionate banter she had witnessed between him and Iris. The music they had created together filled Rosewood Manor with melodies that spoke of a love too profound for words.

"Iris," Maude began hesitantly, "there's something you should know— "

But before she could continue, a commotion from the house interrupted them. Lady Rosier's voice, shrill with panic, carried across the garden.

"Lord Edgar has arrived unexpectedly! Quickly, we must make ourselves presentable!"

Iris stood, frustration etched across her features. "Maude, please. What were you going to say?"

Maude looked at her sister—so familiar and yet so changed. At that moment, she made a decision that would alter the course of all their lives.

"The piece you played," she said softly. "You composed it with the help of someone who loves you very much."

Iris's eyes widened in confusion, but for a fleeting moment, she felt something dawn upon her. Before she could respond, Lady Rosier's voice rang out again, more insistent this time. Whatever had dawned upon her was gone as soon as it had come.

"Girls! Come at once!"

With a last, meaningful look at her sister, Maude rose and smoothed her skirts. "We should go. But Iris... trust your heart. It remembers what your mind has forgotten."

As they made their way back to the house, Iris's mind whirled with questions. The music, the memories—all pieces of a puzzle she couldn't quite solve, but as she prepared to greet Lord Edgar, a spark of determination ignited within her.

She would uncover the truth, no matter the cost. In that moment, Iris knew with certainty that her heart held secrets her mind had yet to comprehend.