Chapter Sixteen

Juliet stared at her hand the minute Estelle unwrapped it. The cut was practically gone, and while it still stung ever so slightly, she had almost recovered from it.

"Irene is a brilliant woman." Juliet said to her maid once she disposed of the cloth. "You know. I think it's time I stop wrapping clothes around it, wouldn't you say?"

Estelle stared at Juliet like she had just dropped from the sky. "I agree that most of the wounds have been healed, but you still need a little time."

Juliet shrugged. "It is beginning to feel like a burden. I think I should be able to go one day without the cloth."

"Well then, answer me this, milady. Do you intend to go to the garden today?"

Juliet nodded, a wave of enthusiasm flushed in her voice. "Today, I'm planting roses."

"Then, I'm wrapping your hand." Estelle responded.

Juliet scoffed. "You know, sometimes I forget you're my maid and not my mother."

Estelle grabbed a fresh piece of cloth and approached her mistress. "How about you indulge me one more time?" She asked. "Today shall be the last day. Once you take this off your hand, you shall no longer need to wear the cloth anymore."

Juliet rolled her eyes in resignation. Whenever it came to her health and safety, her maid always went the extra mile, and there was always almost nothing she could do to stop her.

"Fine. One more day." she said, stretching out her wounded hand.

It had been two days since rain had poured on the roofs of the Estfield manor. Two days since she got trapped in the stables with her husband. Two days since, she uncovered another layer of Weston Edgeworth. Of course, she had managed to tell Estelle everything and Estelle had been happy for her. Wary but happy.

"He gave you his jacket? Maybe he is more of a gentleman than we thought he was." Estelle had said that day when Juliet came in, mildly dripping.

"Yes. It was the sweetest thing. I mean, he was running cold himself, but he did not care. All he wanted was to make sure I got some warmth." Juliet had gushed excitedly.

"That is sweet, I'll admit." Estelle had replied. "But the question is, will it last? Do you see his chivalry or kind-heartedness happening again, or was it just that once because of the rain?"

"You know, I do not think so." Juliet had replied. "Because even before the rain, he had come to speak to me in the garden. I mean, it was obvious he wanted to apologise but didn't know how to start. I suppose he would've found a way to apologise if the rain hadn't interrupted."

"You think there's still a chance?" Estelle had asked.

"Maybe."

Her mind snapped back to the present, back to Estelle tightening the cloth around her palm.

"Does this mean I do not have to speak to Lord Charles anymore? Trying to get his attention has been exhausting."

A sneer smile appeared on Juliet's face. "Is that so?"

"Yes. I've only been able to talk to him twice, and it wasn't exactly smooth sailing. He wouldn't stop complimenting the weather whenever we spoke, and he couldn't look me in the eyes too."

Juliet nodded, quite perplexed at the level of her maid's obliviousness. "You know what I think you should do?"

Estelle frowned, settling on the bed beside Juliet. "What?"

"Talk to him one more time." Juliet offered. "And if you notice he's refusing to look you in the eye again, confront him about it. Ask him why."

Estelle frowned. "I do not think that is a good idea. A maid confronting a Lord is a recipe for disaster."

Juliet reached for Estelle's arm and squeezed it gently. "Do you trust me?"

"Well, not always." Estelle replied which made Juliet chuckle in response.

"Just ask. Don't make it seem like you are angry."

Estelle opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a knock on the door. She exchanged confused expressions with her mistress.

"Who could that be?" Juliet asked. Estelle responded with a shrug and headed to the door. She grabbed the knob and pulled it open. Weston stood on the other end in his riding outfit. A white shirt coated with a red waistcoat and white pants with white boots. His hair had been completely slicked back.

"Estelle?" He greeted. Estelle curtsied in response and made way for him. He walked in and stood in the middle of the room, right in front of Juliet.

"Good morning." Juliet felt the need to go first.

"Good morning." He replied.

"I shall go check on the food." Estelle said from the door. Juliet threw her a grateful nod and watched her walk out of the room.

"How are you feeling?" Weston asked, gesturing towards her hand.

"Better than ever." Juliet replied, desperately trying to make sure her anxiety didn't seep into her voice.

"Uh—" He started, moving towards the edge of the bed. "I am supposed to go riding with Charles in a few minutes."

Juliet watched him lower himself to the bed, beside her.

"I see. Did you want to take something from the room before you go?"

"No. I—" He trailed off again. Juliet continued to watch him intently. "I was wondering if it isn't going to be too much trouble, that I follow you to the garden today."

Juliet's lips parted. "What?"

"I imagine it would give us some time away from—curious eyes, you know. The garden seems to be the one place you seem to relax. I would like that for myself too. We could talk while I watch you plant the lilies."

"Roses." Juliet corrected.

"Weston frowned in confusion. "What?"

"I'm planting roses today."

He nodded. "Ah."

"But of course." Juliet said, the anxiety in her body slowly transitioning into mild excitement. "It would be nice to have someone to talk to while I work today."

"Splendid." Weston said, grinning, partly from relief and partly from curiosity. "I shall tell Charles something else has come up. He could ride without me today."

"Are you sure he is going to take that well?" Juliet asked.

"He will. Do not worry about him." Weston replied, intensely confident in his decision.

Juliet nodded. "Fine."

Weston rose from the bed and, without turning to look at her once, exited the room.

She felt several emotions flowing through her at once. Did this mean he wasn't being aloof towards her anymore? Had she managed to get through to his heart? Was this Weston here to stay?

Then, like a bell echoing in a cave, one question rang true in the back of her mind.

How long was all of this going to last?

***

"Roses were the flowers my mother and I planted together." Juliet started, pressing her knees into the soil. Weston sat on the bench a few yards away from her, entirely focused on her words and her actions.

"You know, I have heard a bit about Lady Celia from Anne. She has grown to become friends with some of the women in the high court."

"Is that so?" Juliet replied, digging further into the ground. A cluster of rose plants was gently laid beside her, ready to be planted.

"They often talked about the wondrous woman who walked the streets of London and held men spellbound with her beauty and intelligence." Weston continued.

Juliet smiled. That sounded like her mother, alright.

"She was the brightest human I knew. She loved life and always entertained everything it had to offer. She was happy, even on her deathbed, as the fever snatched her life harshly from her."

Weston's eyes softened when he realized Juliet had stopped digging. "I am sorry. I did not intend to cause you any—"

"It is fine." Juliet responded. Since her mother died, she hadn't been able to talk about her with anyone except her Aunt Grace. Having to speak to Weston about it was not only freeing, but it also continued to grow the newfound bound between them.

"They're really red. The roses." Weston commented a while later, gesturing towards the plants beside Juliet.

"We have Mr. Brown to thank for that." Juliet responded. "He seemed to know what is good and what isn't."

Weston watched her continue to work. She felt at peace here. Her face shone radiantly in the sun, and her smile had more genuineness to it. He had never seen her this happy before and was beginning to realize just how important the garden was to her. Even in her simple blue gown and packed hair, she remained elegant.

"I should apologise, by the way." He started. Juliet did not stop working, but he knew she was listening to him. "For the dinner. I did not know she would invite Lady Helena and her parents."

"You have nothing to apologise for. In another world, she would have been your wife." Juliet replied.

"No." Weston said. "I was never interested in her from the start. This was just a whole plan orchestrated by my mother to join Thornewood and Estfield."

Juliet nodded. "It is not the worst idea. She only wants what is best for you."

"She doesn't have the faintest idea about what is best for me." Weston replied. "If she did, she would suffer a shock so great it might kill her."

"Do not say that." She said. "No matter what happens, she is still your mother."

"You should be more upset about this. She brought those people in to make a great mockery of your plight."

Juliet shrugged. "There is nothing I can do about it." She wiped the sweat off her forehead and grabbed one of the plants. "It's the situation we have found ourselves in."

Weston shifted on the bench. "You are not wrong."

Juliet felt her heart pound at the prospect of his reply to her next question. This could go either way, but she needed to know.

"Does this mean you will no longer sneak out of the room early in the morning so I don't have to see you when I wake up?" She asked, turning to look at him.

An amused expression crept onto his face as his eyes met hers. "You have—" He trailed off, gesturing towards his face. "You have soil on your face."

"Oh." Juliet whispered, flushed. Using the arm of her dress, she tried to wipe it off. She must have done an even worse job because the amused expression on Weston's face transitioned into a slight chuckle.

"What? It is not gone?" She felt frantic and tried to clean her face again. Weston, at that moment, started to laugh fully.

"Tell me where it is!" Juliet said, her voice rising in embarrassment. He was laughing at her.

And for the first time, she didn't mind it.

"Yes. Yes. of course." He said and rose from the bench, his laughter still as bright as ever. He knelt before her and started to wipe the sand off her face. After a few tries, he managed to get most of it off. As he wiped off the last of the soil, their eyes met, and held each other for a while. Weston couldn't help but admire how green Juliet's eyes were. They were sharp and showed her carefree spirit—one he wasn't used to seeing. Juliet, on the other hand, couldn't help how red her cheeks continued to get.

Weston cleared his throat and rose from the ground.

"I know it is only going to get worse, seeing as you have even more flowers to plant." He said, rubbing his hands together to get rid of the dust.

"You are not wrong about that." Juliet responded.

"And—to answer your question. I only wake up early to get a ride in before I could get any work done. Someone once told me an early ride was enough to clear one's head. I am not avoiding you, Juliet."

Juliet smiled. "Was it the same person who told you masks are but a mockery of who we are?"

Weston gave her an intriguing smile. "Actually, yes. It is."

Juliet wanted to ask who it was. She knew this person must have been incredibly special to him, but she was afraid he was going to close up. She would ask later when she felt even more comfortable with him.

And part of her knew, deep down, that he was going to tell her.

Juliet wasn't surprised when Weston offered to watch her work in the garden the next day. In fact, she secretly hoped he would ask. His company the previous day had been a healthy distraction for her. For the first time, she felt comfortable in his presence, and she was sure he felt the same, too. It made complete sense, knowing their first meeting had been in a garden like this.

"Not enough." Juliet whispered, counting the remainder of the rose bulbs she needed to plant. Weston, ever so gently watching her from the bench, frowned in surprise when he saw her mouth moving.

"Did you say something?"

"Yes." Juliet whispered. She turned to Weston. "The roses. They're not enough. I need more."

"Oh." Weston said, reclining further into his bench. "It is no big deal. I shall ask Mr. Brown to deliver a few more."

Juliet's lips curved in a grateful smile as she continued to work.

"You know, you are going to have to appear to your friends anytime soon. They will begin to wonder if your wife has found a way to ensnare you."

Weston wanted to say it was possible. Her kindness and compassion had gotten to him. He felt more comfortable with her than he did with his friends, and if he could help it, he would continue to prefer her company over theirs.

"I am sure they will understand." were the words that left his mouth instead. Memories of the last time he attended the Lord's meeting flowed into his mind. He remembered the unsavory words his friends had said about Juliet and other women in town. Telling Juliet about them will not do any good. It was better he kept it to himself.

"My mother used to say you could learn a lot about a gentleman from the friends he surrounds himself with." Juliet continued. "I assume, of course, that Lord Charles is a gentleman."

"That he is." Weston responded. "I do not know where I would be today without him. He is often the one who talks some sense into me whenever he finds me straying."

Juliet turned to Weston, letting the shovel slip from her hand. "So he is a wise gentleman."

"Very much so." Weston replied.

"Tell me this." Juliet continued. "And please, pardon me if I go too far, but has he said anything about my maid, Estelle?"

Weston cocked his ears and plastered an intrigued smile on his face. "Not particularly. Has she said anything about him?"

Juliet wore the same mischievous smile as Weston. "Not particularly."

"So she has?"

"No, but I can tell she admires him from afar."

"I can tell, too." Weston said, chuckling slightly. "It is just a shame that any kind of relationship between them will be highly frowned upon."

Juliet shrugged. "Unions should never be formed based on societal expectations."

Weston arched an eyebrow. "Like ours?"

"Well—yes. But we are both members of high society. Standards within us fall within the expectations of our families. It is why your mother wants you to marry Lady Helena rather than me."

"Juliet—"

"No. You do not hear me. Our families may frown at this union because it was created to save whatever dignity we both had left, but if we had gotten married under a much better condition, no one would bat an eyelid."

"Ah." Weston whispered, a wave of realization crashing into him.

"Estelle and Charles, family or not, scandal or not, would have to leave town to enjoy a peaceful marriage."

"Isn't that the dream?" Weston said, shuffling his legs on the bench.

"To run away?"

"Trust me. That is an entirely different story." Weston replied.

A slight pause ensued between them. Juliet knew he had more to say to that effect but wasn't ready. She wouldn't bother him with more questions. That made it two things she would need to know about him as time passed. Instead, she decided to stay on topic

"Look at us, talking about our friends' marriages like we have a say." She said, her voice laced with amusement.

"It is nice to create these imaginary scenarios sometimes, don't you think?"

Juliet stifled a chuckle. "My father hates to deal with things revolving around fantasy. He preferred cold, hard facts."

"I remember his face on the day of the wedding." Weston said. "He could have swallowed me whole if he wanted to."

Juliet threw her head back and let out a light laugh. Weston smiled. She still had it. The very thing that had drawn him to her in the first place.

"He probably would have done the same to me if it makes you feel any better."

"It does." Weston said.

Juliet grabbed the last rose bulb and carefully placed it in the new hole she had dug. "And that's the last of the roses."

"Do not fret. I shall ask Mr. Brown to get the fresh roses delivered as soon as possible."

Juliet smiled. "I know you will."

Weston reclined further on the bench and watched Juliet start to cover up the base of the plant. He watched her hair slowly blow through the wind and her previous work. The garden had become a completely different place. She had managed to transform it from the giant heap of thorns and dirt it used to be to a thing of great beauty. He could hear bees slightly buzzing in the background. His eyes were beginning to catch even more color than before. His heart had grown lighter, and smiles were lingering on his face.

Just like the garden, Juliet was beginning to transform him as well.