Gwen flushed with embarrassment, recalling the unexpected appearance of the fox earlier. "That fox appeared out of nowhere." She called out, her cheeks burning with humiliation. "I was more surprised than scared.""I have said nothing at all." The king offered over his shoulder and continued to walk away with a casual air of indifference. Feeling a surge of frustration and annoyance, Gwen turned away from him, her jaw clenched in silent frustration. She couldn't help but wonder if their brief encounter had been worth the effort, or if she had simply fallen victim to the king's inflated ego once again.The sun's rays danced upon the surface of something shimmering in the distance, and the reflection drew Gwen's attention. There was a passing waterbrook, winding its way away from where they stood. Its tranquil flow mesmerized her, and she went towards it.Entering perfectly into the king's secret place, Gwen found it was small and covered all around by a canopy of trees. Like a well-gua
"Today was the first time in a long while I heard a piece from that piano." The king's voice betrayed the stillness.As his movement disrupted the serene atmosphere, Gwen's fingers instinctively grasped the fabric of her dress, a nervous habit betraying her unease. "I apologize again, Your Majesty, for using our pianoforte without your permission." She murmured.Resting his hands behind his head, the king regarded Gwen with a curious expression. "And again, I say your piece was beautiful." He smiled. "Who is the composer?"A soft smile graced Gwen's lips as a reply to the king's and as she fondly recalled the origins of the piece. "My mother." There was warmth in her voice. The king's eyebrows quirked in question, prompting Gwen to stifle a laugh. "Our mother has an affinity for all her children," she explained, her eyes alight with affection, "and she knows our preferences and predilections.""Does she now?" He mused.Animated, Gwen continued. "Very well." With fondness, she thought
Beth walked briskly into the washing room, busying herself with the task at hand. She was bent over the fabrics, engrossed in sorting through the old linen and faded draperies, unaware of being watched. Gwen lingered by the doorway, quietly observing her sister as the latter worked with as much joy as one who had been awarded. Beth's joy in the task was palpable, evident in the gentle curve of her lips as she methodically organized the fabrics into their appropriate baskets.As Gwen watched Beth's contented smile, she unintentionally returned it, still, she couldn't shake the feeling that her sister's mind was elsewhere. Despite the focused gaze fixed on the fabrics before her, it was apparent that Beth's thoughts were distant, lost in a realm invisible to Gwen's scrutiny. What was she thinking about? What was in her head?Ever since they returned from Rosethorn Hill, Gwen noticed a subtle yet undeniable shift in her sister's demeanour. Beth was more energetic and would gladly do all
Thus begins her protest, Gwen thought, slightly frustrated. "He is a good man, of humble means, but we are no better." When Beth wouldn't move, Gwen almost became angry. "Beth, stop acting as though you have been sent to the stakes. It is a marriage proposal, not a death declaration." At the least, she was getting marriage proposals, not lewd remarks, disgraceful suggestions and… and words to tease.Suddenly, Beth's hand grabbed her arm. "No I really can't! I_" The urgency in Beth's actions piqued Gwen's curiosity, and her shifty eyes prompted closer attention. What was afoot?Quickly, Beth set the basket down and rushed to shut the door, her movements betraying a sense of urgency. When she returned, she grasped Gwen's hands tightly and locked eyes with her, her expression fraught with uncertainty. "I cannot, Gwen." She confessed surely, her voice tinged with anxiety.Gwen's heart skipped a beat at the seriousness in her sister's tone. There was something great afoot, she realized, so
The truth, and the mere thought of its revelation filled Gwen with a sense of dread. There would be disaster. What if their father found out and, driven by a desire to protect the family name and salvage their reputation, demand that the Duke marry Beth? And what if the Duke refused, insisting that Beth was only a friend?What if, in a cruel twist of fate, he agreed to only make her his mistress, a fate all too common for women of their family's economic state? Gwen felt a terrible headache.And worst still, what if Beth turned out pregnant? There were so many destructions for the little time her sister claimed to have spent with the Duke, and there was so much to repay if things were ever to go wrong. This was not what she had prayed for. It was not what she had hoped to happen between them. This was so far away from what she had wished.Beth's gentle touch on Gwen's ear, a simple gesture of tenderness amidst the turmoil, belied the gravity of her words. "It has ended." She declared,
***"Aunt Marrily, would you please? Enough with the crying." Gwen chided her Aunt as they stood on the stairs, watching the wedding carriage ride out into the sunset. Everyone had come out to watch and wave, bidding farewell as the newly-weds departed, leaving for their honeymoon. They intended to spend some weeks in London, before leaving for their new home. "She is still your daughter, she has only gotten married."Aunt Marrily sniffled. "I cannot believe it, my little girl, married and off to raise a family of her own." She sniffled again."It is what you have always prayed for." Gwen interjected."It is not always as easy, dear." She wiped her cheeks with her handkerchief. "Lucy now has a household to command. Can you believe it, Victoria?"Her mother was teary-eyed too. "At least yours is eager to start her family. Beth wants nothing to do with marriage."Aunt Marrily tapped lightly on her mother's shoulder. "That is not true. Did you not say she stayed behind because of the pro
February 1827Alexander walked out of the main castle doors, flanked by his brother, who insisted on joining him for some target shot. As it was a fine day and with most of the duties of the court finished, he proceeded to award himself an outing. Craving solitude and sport, he had asked Edmund to have a shooting area prepared, little did he know that his brother would insist on attending too.All had since returned to a nuance of normalcy since they returned from their attack on the pirates of the west seas. As he had appointed, Carlisle had taken the responsibilities to see the plunder awarded rightly and put to good use.The artificial shade had been set up and the servants were ready, waiting for him. they bowed as he and Brand approached, taking their jackets. His brother helped himself to a cup of water. "Shall we compete and see who is the better shot?" Alexander asked, checking the rifle he had been given.Replacing the cup on the table, Brand collected a rifle too. "Is it nec
His brother obliged the manservant. Biting into a scone, he asked. "What if after some time has passed and you no longer want her? Would you put her away or take another?"Silence. Alexander had for long refused to confront that question and the possibility of it coming to pass. He would admit, it was uncanny and quite disturbing the attraction he had for Guinevere, and the power she had on him. Women were no problem to him and forgetting them was even easier, but not Guinevere. She was not of the standards of women he had had, but that day, she had walked into his courtroom and into his mind."Alexander, what would you do then?" Brand reiterated, pressing on him. He did not know the answer, but he was sure of one thing, he would never become like their father."I would search for something else that I will want."What did he even want now? There was no guarantee that he wanted something now, or that he would want something later. What did he truly want from Guinevere? Captivating as