Chapter Six

Juliet adjusted her seating position after the carriage skipped through several rocks.

"Sorry about that, my lady." The horseman yelled from the front, his hands gripping the ropes as tight as he could.

Juliet didn't reply. She was too deep in thought to do so.

I would like to marry Lady Juliet.

Like a dog barking repeatedly, Weston's words echoed in her mind and brain.

I would like to marry Lady Juliet.

What was he thinking, anyway, proposing marriage? If he were going to do so, he would've at least waited.

She was beginning to long for the times she had to herself right after the event. Sometimes, as she passed people walking down the street, she couldn't help but wonder if she was being judged. The carriage was tightly shut, so it wasn't like anyone could see her. The Willowbrook insignia, however, was visible on every side. Perhaps people judged her as she rode past. She couldn't help but wonder what was being said about her.

"She has ruined her family's name. Dragged it through the mud like a ruined walking stick."

"Such a shame. She had so much promise."

She could swear she heard some maids talking about her back in Willowbrook as she crossed the hallway into the garden.

"If only she had waited. I bet people would be trailing behind her like butterflies." The first maid had said to the other.

"What do you know? She doesn't have any prospects. Perhaps that is why she did what she did." The other maid had replied.

"You think she wanted to get caught?" The first one had asked again.

The other maid had shrugged. "Who knows what runs through the mind of these people?"

At that moment, Juliet had loudly cleared her throat, announcing her presence. Like frightened ice, the maids had dispersed into different directions, scampering for fear of their jobs and, most possibly, their lives.

"We're here, my lady." The horseman announced, pulling her straight out of her thoughts. Juliet felt the carriage stop and the horseman alight from his position. He walked to her side of the carriage and gently held her hand as she climbed down.

Aunt Grace's house was almost as big as the Willowbrook Manor, which was saying a lot because she lived alone with only a few maids. As Juliet gently walked across the fields leading to the house's entrance, she wondered if her Aunt ever got lonely, living alone in such a big house.

Perhaps that is why she throws such huge parties. She thought to herself.

She was let in almost instantly and led into the drawing room.

"Lady Grace will be with you shortly." The footman announced, bare seconds before leaving Juliet all by herself. She was left to her thoughts one more time.

I would like to marry Lady Juliet.

At first, those words had been a source of intrigue to her. How could a total stranger, one she had met for the first time in those gardens propose a marriage at the exact same spot on the same day? She could still hear those words in Weston's voice. The intrigue faded away quickly and soon turned into fear.

What if she was only about to trade one prison for another? Will she have it easy at the Estfield Manor after getting married to the Marquess? Will she have it even worse? Who is Estfield's version of Adam and Camilla? She met Lady Beatrice at the gardens that fateful night, and she wasn't that different from her father—rigidly minded, stuck on the rules that guided the society, and most especially, easily irritated.

"Oh, darling." Grace's voice called, pulling her out of her spiral once again. She turned to see her aunt approaching her, arms wide. Grace pulled Juliet into a warm hug. One she didn't know she needed until it was happening. She could feel herself sinking into Grace's embrace. She wanted to remain like that for as long as she could.

"Your feelings must be in all places now, aren't they?" Grace asked.

"The gossip sheets might one day be the death of me." Juliet replied, breaking the hug herself. They both lowered themselves onto chairs facing each other.

"I know this will not help, but scandals like these don't live for long. In a few days, some Duke is going to do something worse, and people will have something else to talk about."

Juliet grew silent. While her aunt was right to an extent, it still didn't completely hide the fact that she was going through a hard time. She wanted her life erased from people's mouths. She wanted them to know one way or another that there had been a great misunderstanding, and she was nothing but a victim of a baseless rumor.

"I received some horrible faces on my way here. I don't see those ending anytime soon." Juliet replied, unable to see an optimistic side to things.

Aunt Grace grabbed her hands and squeezed them gently.

"I promise you, no gossip goes on for long. It's what makes them effective. They're short-lived."

"And how would you know that?"

Grace slackened her grip on Juliet's hands and leaned back.

"Because I have gone through this too."

Juliet frowned. "Really?"

"It happened so long ago. I do not want to bore you with horrible stories." Grace replied, waving at the air to stress the lack of seriousness.

"What happened?"

"It is not important for you to know."

"Please." Juliet pleaded. "I am crashing underneath my wings here. I need to know if you're correct. I need to know if it does get better."

In the moment of silence that ensued between them, Grace looked into her niece's eyes with pity.

"Alright." she finally said. "Three decades ago, I attended a ball just like this one. I was still in my spinster years, so my mother was forcing us to attend events held by members of the high society."

"And by us, you mean—"

"Celia, your mother and me. Yes."

"I see."

"She was so beautiful, your mother. Whenever we traveled together, she was always the center of attention. Men from all walks of life came up to have a chat or a dance with her."

Juliet felt a slight smile creep up her face. Her mother was indeed beautiful. She knew that, but it was great to know she was extensively known for her beauty in her early years.

"Sometimes, it got overwhelming." Grace continued. "So whenever we went to a ball, and she became the center of attention, I would try to find a place to hide. Somewhere with silence. Somewhere with no one."

"Like a garden." Juliet affirmed.

Grace smiled. "Yes. Like a garden."

Juliet nodded.

"One time, the Duke of Flower Harbour held a coming out ball for his daughter, Rose. As usual, Mother had stuffed us into carriages and had made us attend. As usual, your mother had gotten center stage. She took the attention away from me, away from Rose."

Juliet placed her hands on her mouth. "That must have been horrible."

Grace smiled. "Now, you see me, I am used to it. I didn't mind at all. Rose, on the other hand, grew upset. So when I snuck out of the ball to find a place to hide, there she was, near the fountain, drawing into the soil with a stick. She was a kindred spirit. We were both feeling the same things. So I went to sit with her, of course. Moments later, we were laughing and making fun of the desperate men wanting a dance with my sister."

Juliet laughed. "That must have been relieving."

"For a while, it was." Grace continued. "Then, a young Lord exited the ball as well and found us. He asked for Rose to dance with him. I still remember how his mouth reeked from the wine and the fish. Rose had refused. The young Lord was hurt, of course, so he walked back to the ball and began to spread a lie."

"Oh Lord." Juliet frowned. She could see tears forming behind Aunt Grace's eyes and, for a moment, wondered if she could tell her to stop the story.

"He said he'd found Rose and me near the fountain, holding hands and kissing like lovers." Grace said.

Juliet felt the color drain from her face. "What?"

"Of course, people believed the lie. Why not? It was salacious gossip, and it was as juicy as it came. Quickly, words spread, and we couldn't do anything about it. Mother didn't let me out of my room for months. The only person I was allowed to see was Celia. She would come to my room every day and tell me the latest stories on Father's new acquaintances and the people mother met at the market."

"Oh." Juliet whispered, unsure of what to say.

"It was only because of Celia I was able to stay sane in my room during those harrowing months. When I was finally free to come out, I had learned that Lady Rose—" Grace froze. The tears were now beginning to fall freely from her face. Juliet watched her reach for a white handkerchief and slowly dab her face.

"I found out Lady Rose couldn't handle the aftermath. So she jumped into the river and drowned."

Juliet's eyes widened in shock.

"Look." Grace sniffled a while later, gathering herself. "Now it's been almost thirty years, and no one remembers anymore. Of course, the news faded a year later, and it was only brought up whenever Lady Rose's death was mentioned, but my point still stands. Gossip fades quickly."

Grace reached for Juliet's hand and squeezed it once more.

"You just have to give it time. Remain resilient. Do not give them the satisfaction of seeing you fall. Not your father, not your brother and his wife. Not any of those mouthy people walking the streets."

Juliet nodded slowly and continued to process everything her aunt had just told her. She couldn't help but wonder how long she would have to suffer through the eyes of judgemental people.

"Perhaps there might be a good side to this." Aunt Grace continued.

"What good side could there possibly be?"

"Well, your intended husband. You don't know anything about him. For all we know, he is as charming as they come and would take care of you completely."

Juliet allowed her mind to wander to that night in the garden before the chaos ensued. Weston had proven himself to be a great conversationalist.

"Perhaps, now, you can focus on building a rapport with your husband. You never know. You may find a true partner in him."

Juliet shrugged. "You do not know that. He might be a monster."

"You do not know that either." Aunt Grace continued. "We don't know what burdens the heart of other people, Juliet. We only know ours. Even the most aggressive war hero may write sonnets in his own private time."

Juliet let a slight laugh escape her mouth.

"I once heard of a ruthless king back in the days who passed the time by painting each of his wives. People say he only had three and never let them want for anything."

"Now, that is a true gentleman if I've ever met one." Juliet replied, causing Grace to laugh a little.

"This may not be as bad as you think, Juliet. This may be your way to true freedom." Grace said when her laughing stopped.

Juliet sighed. "But what if it is only another prison away from Willowbrook? What if this marriage is only going to trap me forever in sadness?"

Grace smirked and squeezed Juliet's hands even harder.

"We would have to wait and find out."

***

Weston drowned his third cup of brandy in a single gulp.

"Another!" He screamed, raising his cup. His eyes were red, and the drink pushed back the headache he had suffered for the past few days.

In a tavern near the Estfield Manor, Weston had decided to settle in to make the most of his bleak future. On his right, also settled in a chair with him, was Charles Longworth, who had only just returned from his travels the day before.

"Perhaps you might want to slow down on the brandy." Charles said, his voice laced with worry. He had always known Weston to be a composed and firm gentleman. Watching his friend lose some sense of control was hard to imagine.

"I shall determine the right time for me to stop." Weston replied. He raised his cup one more time and drew the attention of the stewardess. Soon, she arrived with a giant jug filled with brandy and filled his cup to the brim.

"Weston." Charles started. "Do you think drinking yourself into a stupor is the right idea?"

Weston decided to nurse his drink this time around. Instead of drinking it in one go, he took a few sips.

"I'm getting married to a lady I barely know. We are well past having the right ideas, do you not think?" Weston replied, gently placing his cup on the table before him.

Charles reclined further in his seat. The fact that he had been on a journey didn't mean the news didn't get to him.

"I have heard everyone's version of what happened, Weston. I know how unreliable the gossip sheets can be. I still haven't heard your version, and I intend to."

A hysterical chuckle escaped Weston's lips. "What is the point? It will not change anything. I will remain trapped in this life I thought I was going to escape in time."

"I agree. But it helps if you talk about it. Keeping things inside will kill you, just as too much brandy will, too."

Weston scoffed. "This was all my fault. I should've left her alone. I shouldn't have approached her when I heard her tears across the flowers."

"There is only so much guilt you can place on yourself, Weston." Charles continued.

"We only took off our masks for a while. All of this happened because we decided to take off our masks."

Charles sighed. "The past is in the past, my friend. Perhaps this might be your way out."

Weston was partly inebriated from the brandy, but he could still understand simple sentences. "What are you talking about?"

Charles reached for Weston's shoulder. "Maybe this is how you get the family you have always wanted."

Weston frowned. "What?"

"I know you always thought you would get this with Eliza."

Weston felt his heart shudder.

"This is how you get your family, Weston. You might think you're in a sordid situation, but there are ways to make the best of it."

"This is no way to get a family." Weston said.

"Maybe this Lady Juliet will make a fine wife and a great mother for your children. You never know."

"You do not understand me, Charles. This is a disaster. I have tied myself to a marriage I want no part of. I don't want to have a family. I want to escape."

Charles pushed his chair forward. "We can't all have the things we want, Weston. We can only try and enjoy the things we do have. You are about to have a wife. Do not write off your marriage before it has even commenced."

Weston grunted in response and reached for his cup once again. As he brought it close to his lips, he noticed, in his periphery, a group of men across the tavern, staring straight at him.

He drank all that remained in the cup and placed it back on the table.

"If you look any harder, you're going to have to draw a portrait." He said suddenly, looking straight at the men. Red-faced and embarrassed at being caught, they turned away.

"Maybe it will be better if you come look at me clearly right here, wouldn't it?"

"Weston—" Charles called.

"Do you have questions you wish to ask me?"

"Weston, what are you—"

"Maybe you need me to provide you with a new layer of gossip to spread around town?"

"Weston!" Charles called, his voice firm and loud. "You are already in trouble with the public. Do you think it is reasonable to add to your problem?"

Weston said nothing. Instead, he returned his gaze to his empty cup.

"How do you think it will translate when people hear that the Marquess of Estfield was picking fights with men in a tavern?"

"I do not care what people think anymore. They are going to make their own conclusions anyway."

"Your wedding is only a few days ahead. Perhaps your energy will be useful if spent preparing for it."

Weston pressed his fingers against his forehead. There it was again. The troubling headache that wouldn't let him go. Charles was right, as much as he didn't want to admit it. He was getting married to Lady Juliet in a week. He needed to start working on being a wonderful husband.

His head pounded at the thought. In a week, he would no longer be able to imagine what true freedom would have felt like. In a week, he would be well and truly unable to go anywhere. The cottage on the Scottish border might as well fade away from his memories.

He had no choice. Life had thrown him into a bad situation, and it was up to him to make the most of it.

He might as well enjoy himself as much as he could. His time in taverns was limited.

Against his better judgment, he reached for his cup again and raised it into the air.

"Another!"