Chapter Eight

Juliet knew, even as she walked down the cobblestones leading to the entrance of her new home with her new husband, that he was only speaking to her out of duty. So far, all his words to her had been about Estfield and how it would be convenient for her.

Not once had he spoken to her about himself. He didn't ask anything about her. He refused to give up anything personal or ask for it in return. A sigh escaped Juliet's lips. The pressure of this wedding weighed down hard on him, and she could see that. While this had been a wedding intended to cover whatever wounded pride both houses had suffered in the heat of the scandal that had rocked them, she couldn't help but wonder when she would be able to have a talk with Weston.

A full, proper conversation.

She turned back. Estelle was behind, gently walking along the path as well. She threw her a weak smile. Estelle curtsied in response. The doors swung open, and there, in the most sophisticated regalia, was Lady Beatrice, her hands tightly folded against her stomach. Right beside her was a much younger lady who shared a slight resemblance with her.

"My sister. Anne." Weston replied as Juliet turned to look at him quizzically.

Lady Beatrice's lips slowly widened into a smile when Juliet got close enough to her.

"Welcome to your new home, Lady Juliet."

Juliet curtsied, her hand still securely around Weston's arm. "Thank you, my lady."

Silence.

Thick, heavy silence.

Juliet felt Beatrice's eyes slowly sweep through her dress. She could swear Beatrice was counting the roses attached to it.

"Well." Beatrice said, a few minutes later. "Seeing as you're now a Marchioness, we must have you appropriately outfitted. The dressmaker will be here any moment from now. She shall come to take your measurements."

Juliet curtsied again. "Thank you, Lady Beatrice."

Weston remained aloof. His face was drained of any emotion. The silence was slowly beginning to descend again, and it was apparent no one was determined to break it this time around.

"We shouldn't keep you waiting in the sun for long, now, should we?" Anne said, jumping into the line of fire. "Come. We shall have some tea while lunch gets prepared."

She pushed the doors open even wider and led the newlyweds in. Juliet's eyes darted around as she walked in. The hallway was a bit wider than Willowbrook, and the halls smelled of cinnamon and chicken.

Perhaps the kitchen was only a few steps away.

"Come." Anne continued, her eyes now squarely on Juliet. "Once we have tea, you can retire into your room. Lunch wouldn't start for a while."

They all walked into the drawing room and found appropriate places to sit in. The table was already lined with several ceramic cups filled with hot tea. The cups were paired with some of the finest china Juliet had ever seen, each one gently housing a small portion of bread. Soon, they all dug in and started to eat.

At least the ones who could.

Juliet didn't have the slightest ounce of appetite. All she could do was turn her bread around on her plate while others went about their meal. Her eyes shifted towards Weston, who was sitting right across from her. He was eating the bread, but she could tell he practically forced it down his throat. His moves were mechanical. She watched him stab his bread with the fork and gently cut a part of it away. He might as well not be here at all. Once or twice, he raised his head to stare back at her. In those moments, there was no warmth behind his eyes.

Only cold, stern glares that made Juliet uncomfortable.

"Not in the mood to eat, dear?" Lady Beatrice's voice cut through her melancholy. She returned to the present and wore a tired smile as she turned to look at her mother-in-law.

"I am." She replied. Beatrice nodded and watched her bite off a piece of her bread. The more time went by, the more it began to dawn on Juliet that life at Estfield might not be as rosy as she thought it would be. Estelle had been led to the maid quarters to get acquainted with others. Juliet wondered what would happen if she tried excusing herself. Would she be in contradiction of her brand new Marchioness rules if she rose from her seat and asked to be led to her room?

Her eyes rested on Weston again, and she couldn't help but feel pity for him. He was tied to a life he didn't want. As a young man, she was sure he had plans for himself. It is not the greatest thing to have one's plans hindered by an unwanted marriage.

"What do you say we walk the halls of Estfield when you're well-rested from your journeys?" Anne asked, a wide grin on her face as she stared at Juliet.

Juliet returned the smile. "I would like that very much. Thank you."

"Well," Beatrice started. "There might be no tour if you die from starvation before tomorrow. You've barely touched your food."

Juliet knew it didn't come from a place of warmth. Beatrice's eyes were blank and unreadable.

"Let her be, mother." Weston commented. The first word he'd said since they all started to eat.

"I'm just saying." Beatrice continued. "She's a newlywed. She needs all the strength she can get."

"Mother." Anne warned, throwing a hard look at Beatrice.

"It's alright." Juliet said. "I am only preparing my stomach for lunch. I don't eat much." Juliet responded.

"Would you look at that?" Beatrice said. "A proper lady."

Silence followed her words. Nothing could be heard except the sound of spoons clunking against plates and teapots against the table.

Teatime was over just as soon as it had started.

"Come with me." Anne said. "I hope you like your new room."

Hand in hand, they both exited the drawing room, leaving Weston and his mother to remain in uncomfortable silence.

"She might be a bit scary sometimes." Anne said, once they were out of earshot. "But she only wants the best for her son."

Juliet nodded. The best didn't include a maiden he had to marry out of shame.

"Mother had her eyes fixed on someone else. Lady Helena Waters. At least before everything happened the way it did. So it may look like she has some resentment towards you. It would be best if you do not take them personally."

"I shall try." Juliet replied.

"Your dress is the most exquisite, by the way. I could tell a lot of time and effort were put into it." Anne continued, examining Juliet's gown in admiration as they made their way across Estfield's hallways.

"Thank you." Juliet replied, smiling loosely.

"Look, I know Weston can seem a bit taciturn and mother might sometimes be—well, mother. If you need anything, do not hesitate to come to me." Anne said, gently squeezing Juliet's arm.

Juliet nodded.

"It is nice to have a newfound sister. I have been waiting for this moment for a long time. I came close when—" She trailed off.

Juliet frowned. "When what?"

"I cannot tell you." Anne said, a wary expression on her face. "It has to come from Weston himself. I'm sorry."

Juliet wanted to tell her that Weston hadn't said more than a few words to her on their way here. She wanted to tell Anne that she wasn't sure her husband would ever speak to her except in monosyllables if he couldn't help it. Instead, she nodded slowly and swallowed hard.

"I shall find out from him."

Soon, they arrived before an open doorway.

"Here we are." Anne said, gesturing towards the room. Juliet smiled and walked in slowly. Her feet barely touched the floor. It was like she was wary of what her new room might look like.

One thing was sure. It was twice the size of her room in Willowbrook. The bed was wider since it wouldn't only be for her anymore. The windows overlooked the windy fields and a giant oak tree. The walls glistened in bright green, and the floors shone from how hard they had been scrubbed.

"It is—magnificent." Juliet said, her eyes sweeping around.

"I am glad you like it." Anne continued. "You might want to change into a more convenient attire for lunch. Some dresses have been placed in the cupboard."

Juliet nodded, the words of Beatrice echoing in the back of her mind.

Seeing as you're now a Marchioness, we need to have you appropriately outfitted.

"Would you like me to fetch your maid?" Anne asked. Juliet turned away from the windows to look at her.

"I wouldn't want to be a bother—"

"Nonsense." Anne responded, waving gingerly. "I shall get her to come to you immediately."

Juliet threw Anne a grateful smile. Anne returned the smile and exited the room, leaving Juliet to her thoughts.

For a minute, Juliet thought of sinking into the bed. Perhaps she might just lay there forever. She walked to the cupboard and gently pulled the doors open. New dresses hung from a rack. They felt fluffier than her usual wears. More mature.

Juliet sighed. Everything was happening too fast. She wished she could take a pause on life and take it in one at a time.

"Milady?" Estelle's familiar voice sent soothing chills down her spine.

"Estelle." Juliet whispered, turning to her maid. "These dresses look heavy."

Estelle moved closer to the cupboard and inspected the gowns as well. "I agree. It doesn't look like you have a choice, though. Lady Beatrice might tear you apart if you refuse to wear them."

"She does look the sort, doesn't she?" Juliet asked.

"I am certain she does."

Juliet snickered. "Pray close the door. She might hear you."

Estelle smiled and headed to the door. She looked around, and when she became sure no one was lurking, gently closed the door behind her.

Juliet shrugged. "What do you think of the room?"

Estelle took a long look around the room. "It's nice."

"But?" Juliet asked.

"It's too—"

"Green?"

"Precisely. I think it could use more colour."

"Me too."

Estelle laughed. "It is astonishing, though. Your matrimonial room."

Juliet drew a large breath, the word tugging at her heart. Matrimonial .

"I shall draw you a bath." Estelle said, heading towards the only other door in the room.

"I do not think I have the time for a bath before lunch."

"You've been on a long journey. A bath is going to soothe you." Estelle responded, not taking a break in her steps. "The maids at the quarters informed me that it is tradition for one to have a bath before every meal.

"I see." Juliet responded. This was altogether a new life for her. One she might have to adjust to incredibly quickly. She looked around her room once again, taking it in slower than before. This was her life now. She would be seeing this room for the rest of her life. She was going to be seeing it with Weston.

Stony, cold-faced, Weston.

***

Weston took calculated bites. When the butler announced that the wedding feast was ready, he couldn't help but feel even more dejected. Right before him, separated only by the side tablecloth, was Juliet, who was only prodding at her food as well. Weston wondered if she was being truthful earlier when she said she didn't eat much or if she only said so to avoid eating more than necessary.

Or at all.

Just like in the drawing room, silence had occupied the dining room. While the table was filled with all the kinds of foods one could wish for, the situation at hand didn't warrant any form of excitement. His sister, Anne, wasn't having the same problem. She took appropriate helpings of her food and remained focused on it. So did his mother.

His eyes turned to Juliet one more time. She had cut a part of her chicken and was now fiddling it with her fork. He watched her partly out of curiosity and partly absent-mindedly as she played with her food. Soon, she raised her head, and their eyes met.

He couldn't read her expression as it was as blank as an empty canvas. He hoped she couldn't read him, too. All Weston wanted to do was exit the feast and find solace in his study. That or sleep for as long as possible until he was awoken from this terrible nightmare that had become his life. He didn't have the energy to speak or eat. He couldn't. He had just been thrown into a life sentence of strife and sadness. His soul couldn't bear any more. He wished Charles was around, but he also had business to attend to. Weston wondered just how busy he had to be for him not to make time for his wedding feast but thought not too much of it. His mind drifted away from the thought almost immediately.

"I hope you found your new room to your liking?" Beatrice asked, breaking the awkward silence, if out of necessity. Juliet turned to her.

"Most definitely, Lady Beatrice."

Beatrice smiled. "I don't know how you do things back in town, but you can just refer to me as mother-in-law."

Juliet nodded in response.

"Or mother, if you're more comfortable with that."

"Alright." Juliet responded.

"I had the room repainted myself." Lady Beatrice continued.

Juliet smiled. That explained it.

"I tried to talk her out of it." Anne chipped in. "I told her no one would ever be comfortable with that shade of green."

Juliet chuckled slightly. "I think it's marvelous."

"It is your room, Juliet." Lady Beatrice continued. "If you do not like the colour, you can always change it."

"Thank you, Mother." She said.

Mother.

The word had hit Weston's chest like a drum.

"I know the dresses in the cupboard may not exactly fit you well." Anne said after drinking from her cup. "That is why we are having the dressmaker over. That way, you can have dresses that are meant for you, but until she arrives, I hope you can make do with the dresses."

"Absolutely." Juliet responded.

"And if you are not too busy, you could work on a potion that will unlock your husband's mouth. I'm worried he might have lost his voice." Beatrice added.

Weston sighed. "There is nothing to say."

"You could at least comment on the food." Beatrice said, prodding even further.

Weston started at his plate hard and long. "The feast is wonderful, Mother."

"Now, was that so hard? I hope you won't remain mute when you're with your wife. A marriage works when the couple talk to each other." Beatrice said.

"Thank you for the advice, mother."

Weston felt a wave of tightness clutch his chest. He looked up at Juliet, who was now trying to force some food down her throat. He turned to look at Anne, who looked most compassionately at Juliet. He then finally faced his mother, who was staring back at him most coldly.

It registered right there and then in his mind that he was well and truly trapped.