Chapter Nine

Juliet sat on the edge of her bed, her hands placed on her legs, watching the doorway intently.

"Are you sure about this, milady?" Estelle asked from the door to the bath, looking through Juliet's worn dresses.

"He should be coming by very soon. I need to speak with him, and this seems to be the only way to do so."

"What if he is not in the mood?"

Juliet turned to Estelle, the sadness on her face viciously evident. "Well, let's hope he is."

Then, like clockwork and as predicted by Juliet, Weston's boots started to knock on the floor in the distance. Juliet jumped off the bed and hurried to the mirror.

"Quick, how do I look?"

"You look fine, milady. Just like you did a few moments back."

"Fine?" Juliet said, her voice on the edge of a screech. "I do not want to look fine. He most probably would not talk to me if I looked just fine."

Estelle opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came forth.

"Forget it." Juliet whispered. Weston's footsteps were getting louder. It was only a matter of time before he crossed her doorway.

"How about my teeth? Do I have anything in it?" Juliet asked.

"Nothing, milady."

"I wonder if I should eat some fruit for fragrance." Juliet said to herself, checking her breath.

"Milady—" Estelle started, getting off the floor. "Lord Weston is your husband. You are both bound to each other. Someday, you must speak to him without worrying about fragrance or appearance. He is your husband. He is bound to see you when you look the least attractive."

"That will happen later. Just not today."

Weston crossed her doorway, looking ahead.

"Weston!" Juliet called, hurrying towards him. Weston froze in his steps and waited for Juliet to catch up with him.

"Juliet." He replied once she got close enough. "Is there a problem?" He started to walk again, and Juliet had to keep up.

"Not at all. I was wondering if we could take a stroll around the fields and—well, talk. We haven't done a lot of that since the wedding."

"I'm afraid the last thing I have the time for is a stroll. Charles is waiting for me at the stables. We are riding into town."

"Well, we could ride together. I shall fetch a horse and come with you."

Weston froze again. "No."

Juliet frowned. "No?"

"No."

A slight pause ensued between them. The awkwardness had been evident since the wedding day. Now, it continued to feel like it wouldn't stop anytime soon.

"This is an urgent matter, Juliet. It is more effective if Charles and I ride alone. You must understand."

Juliet nodded. "I know how important matters can be, my lord. I shall wait till you get back."

Weston reached for her arms and squeezed them gently. "Please save yourself the trouble. I shall not be back until later in the night. I hope you find the manor entertaining before I return."

Juliet nodded and curtsied. "Goodbye, my lord."

Weston released her from his grip and turned towards the entrance. Juliet watched him walk away, his steps brisk and fast. She could almost swear that he was walking away from her.

Running away from her.

She turned and started to walk back to her room, paying no mind to the servants that passed her by as she walked. All she wanted to do was get to her room and curl up into a ball of dejectedness.

"Juliet. Is that you?" Her mother-in-law's domineering voice called. Juliet froze in her steps and turned slowly.

"Mother." She greeted.

"He's off again, isn't he?" Beatrice asked, taking her sweet, gracious time to climb down an adjacent flight of stairs.

"He says he has some urgent meeting in town and that he must hurry with Charles."

Beatrice sighed. "Sometimes, it is hard to remember that my son got married to you and not to Charles. Those two are closer than anything."

Juliet said nothing. She could feel Beatrice's heated gaze on her. Her eyes were perhaps sweeping for impediments in her dress.

"This corset is too tight. Ask your handmaid to fix it for you." Beatrice said.

"Yes, mother. I shall do that."

"You need to understand that being a Marchioness, you need to shed away some of your ladylike manners. You are now in a more mature position. You require manners that are befitting of a woman of your status."

Juliet could feel herself shriveling up inside. "Yes mother."

"I noticed you were strolling around the gardens yesterday. I understood you had one back in Willowbrook." Lady Beatrice continued.

"Yes."

"Remember, you came here for one reason and one reason only. To be a good wife to my son and bear him heirs. Your adoration for gardens is one of the ladylike manners you will need to shed. If you must attend gardens, let the time used be short. Am I understood?"

"Clearly, Mother." Juliet replied, plastering a half-smile on her face even though each word felt like a dagger ripping her heart into shreds.

"Alright. That will be all for now. I shall talk to your husband when he returns. This game of cat and mouse must stop today."

Juliet nodded in reply and took one more bow. Beatrice acknowledged it and watched her walk to her room.

She closed it behind her, walked towards the bed, and sank into it.

"I assume the conversation with your husband did not go as well as you wanted?" Estelle asked, now arranging some of Juliet's jewels on her dressing table.

"There was barely a conversation." Juliet replied, her voice muffled by the bedclothes. "He couldn't wait to get to his friend."

"Lord Charles?"

Juliet narrowed her eyes in surprise and looked up at Estelle. "You're familiar?"

"I have seen him once or twice around the manor. While I haven't conversed with him, he seems harmless enough."

"Is that what you think about him?"

"I cannot form any thought about Lord Charles, milady. I haven't engaged with him yet."

Juliet's eyes darted towards the dressing table, watching Estelle arrange her jewels properly. Just like that, at that moment, a grand idea formed in her head.

"Perhaps you could converse with him?"

"Milady—"

"Do not worry. It is nothing serious. You will just talk to him as much as possible, see what kind of man he truly is."

"I do not think—"

"I would talk to him myself if I could, but Lady Beatrice watches me like a hawk. The last thing I need is to get caught in another scandal, don't you think?"

Estelle paused and let a moment of silence descend between them.

"I will try and talk to him, milady. For you."

A wide smile appeared on Juliet's face. "Thank you."

"I heard Lady Beatrice talking to you earlier. Did she mention the corset? Did she think it was too tight?" Estelle asked. Before Juliet could respond, she rose and walked to the bed, nudging her lady to turn her back towards her.

"I miss home, Estelle. I cannot believe those words just exited my mouth, but they are true. I miss the rose garden. I miss having my own room. I miss being able to roam around the house without worrying about someone's discerning glare."

She felt the corset loosen around her back as Estelle continued to untie the ropes.

"Estfield is awkward. My husband has refused to talk to me ever since the wedding."

Estelle cleared her throat. "I apologise for being a bit too forward, milady, but I must ask. Has he—"

Juliet frowned. "Has he what?"

"You know—has he touched you?"

"Oh. No. I have been here for three days and three nights. Every night, he would come to bed, turn the other way, and sleep off."

Estelle untied the last string around Juliet's corset. "Well, at least he is a gentleman."

"The only kind of cheer I receive here is from Anne. I cannot afford to climb down the staircase anymore while Lady Beatrice examines my dress. I did not know that becoming Marchioness meant I had to lock away parts of myself for life." Juliet continued. "I barely know anything about my husband. The gardens in the manor are nothing but dry corn fields. This is just another prison, Estelle. Perhaps an even greater one."

"This is only temporary, milady." Estelle replied, sitting on the edge of the bed, slightly stroking Juliet's hair. "Things will change soon. You will see."

"I fear this change everyone speaks about might not meet me alive."

"Do not say such things." Estelle replied, her voice rising with each word. "What would Lady Grace say if she were here?"

Juliet's mind fondly traveled to her eccentric aunt. "She would tell me to focus on building a great relationship with Weston."

"Perhaps that is exactly what you need to do." Estelle continued. "Your husband is trying to avoid you. It is your job to make sure he notices you everywhere. I know this was a sad turn of events, and you didn't exactly marry the person you intended."

"It was my biggest fear." Juliet said. "Marrying someone who wouldn't be able to love me for my heart, and I am afraid I have fallen right into that trap."

Estelle's fingers continued to run through Juliet's hair. "All is not lost yet, milady. You just need to try harder. Make him notice you. He is your husband, whether you like it or not. Getting out of this situation is not something you are capable of, but perhaps you may control the situation by moving closer to him."

"And how am I supposed to do that if he would not even spare me a minute of his time?"

"I'm sure you shall think of something, milady. You are one of the most intelligent people I know. Ideas will come. You just need to listen."

Juliet rubbed her forehead furtively.

"You're right. I shall try harder. This is not easy for both of us. The least he could do is listen to me."

"I agree, milady."

"Do not forget about Charles. You shall help me find out what kind of man he is. I want to know if he is the right person to be around Weston."

Estelle smiled and rose from the bed. Juliet watched as she walked back to the dressing table and resumed the arrangement of her jewels.

"I shall do my best, milady."

Juliet turned her gaze from Estelle to the roof. She was growing sadder by the minute. She hoped these ideas would come to her soon, and she would find ways to talk to Weston and make him listen. At that moment, she wondered what her father and half-brother were doing back home.

***

"I am telling you, Charles. I would not put it past her." Weston said, his voice eagerly firm. He was in the busiest part of town with his friend, and they gently walked among the locals, looking for places to secure their horses. To Weston, this place was less suffocating than back home. For now, here, as he trudged down these dirt paths, he didn't have to endure excruciating dinners. He didn't have to deal with some snide remark from his mother or some cheery comment from his sister.

He didn't have to look at his wife.

He felt the hot afternoon air on his face and relished as much of it as he possibly could. Charles was only a few yards behind him, also casually looking around for a place where they could tie their horses.

"Pardon me, I may get this wrong." Charles said, feeling the gears of his head turn. "She sneaked out of the hall during the spring masquerade ball and went to sit in the gardens all by herself. You heard her crying. You walked to where she was. You sat with her, and somehow, you think she was happy to be caught up in a scandal with you? Again, I apologise if I made some misconception."

Weston rolled his eyes at his friend's profound sarcasm. "Not the scandal. The wedding. I cannot help but feel like this whole thing was a plan for her to entrap a gentleman in her snare. This marriage is an unwanted sense of duty. None of us should be enjoying it. I think she is."

"Because she asked to speak with you before leaving the manor for town?" Charles asked, a puzzled expression growing on his face.

"It is not so much as the fact that she asked but rather the tone in which she asked. She was giddy. Excited. I could swear I saw her even smile once."

"God forbid a woman married to you isn't miserable for the rest of her life." Charles sneered.

Weston turned to look at him, his lips pursed. "This is not a joke, Charles."

"It is. And you are making it." Charles replied. They were now on the other end of the busy street. While people still passed them by occasionally, they weren't as numerous as when they were in the midst of it.

"Your wife, in case you have forgotten that, by the way, is obviously only trying to make the best of a bad situation. Do you think, if presented with options, she would pick this? You know Lady Beatrice wasn't exactly welcoming to her. This was a marriage of duty, and she wasn't the one your mother was eyeing for you in the first place."

"Charles—"

"She is lost and alone, Weston."

"I understand that—"

"Clearly, you do not. Three days. She has been in Estfield for three days, and you would rather shoot darts than talk to her. You would rather do anything, really. She is your wife. You are supposed to be the one person she could talk to."

"I do not know what we are going to talk about."

"You wanted to talk plenty at the ball that fateful night, didn't you?"

Weston shook his head. Charles was always honest with him. Sometimes, he was too honest that it hurt some part of him. He had brought up the fateful ball that would be the catalyst of Juliet and him getting married, two times now. While he was not exactly wrong in his analysis, he was a bit too blunt for him."

Perhaps it was what he needed. With the facts laid bare before him, he couldn't believe he thought for a moment that Lady Juliet was secretly reveling in the fact that she got to tie down a gentleman like him. He sighed. Maybe he was trying to find a way out of this marriage by blaming the poor girl. The one also caught up in the same situation as he was.

"She is alone, Weston." He heard Charles continue. "She has no one to talk to at Estfield. I know she has her handmaid, but there is only so much companionship she could provide because, you know why?"

Weston nodded negatively.

"She is not her husband." Charles said, his voice solidly firm.

Weston continued to think over his friend's words. Perhaps he had been a bit too hard on his wife. Charles was right. He was going to have to talk to her sooner or later. It was better for him to do it now while she still had a bit of spirit in her. He remembered the slight conversation they had on their way from the chapel. He remembered the specific words he said to her after they had talked about their interests.

"We are already finding something in common, wouldn't you say?"

He might have judged his wife a bit too harshly.

"You are right." He muttered out loud for Charles to hear.

"Of course I am. I am smarter than you."

"Pray, speak no further on the matter." Weston replied.

As they walked down a now empty path with either side filled with dry, windy fields, he couldn't help but wonder if he was betraying Eliza once more.

He would talk to Lady Juliet, but that would be the height of it. He had known love, and he had lost it. He was not ready to have his heart broken again. Walls of insincerity had been built around his heart. No one could make him fall in love again.

But out of duty and companionship, he would talk with his wife. She didn't ask for any of this, and neither did he. It was unfair, he realized, to leave her alone to herself. He needed to do better. He needed to be a fine husband to his wife, even if their marriage was never born out of love.

"I think we can hoist the horses here." He heard Charles say. A wave of relief swept through his body. He couldn't bear to keep holding on for longer.