I sat at the window seat in my room, looking over the countryside surrounding the castle. The hills were covered in a smoky mist, and the ashen skies felt as somber as my mood. Tired of my own dreariness, I pulled out my ongoing letter to Harry, which had remained neglected the last few days, and added a new entry.
It is my dearest hope that by the time you receive this letter from me, you will have finally started to settle in and make friends. Ignore the ne’er-do-wells who tease and mock, and remember what father used to say: “Choppy water is better than a smooth sea, for at least your guard is up.”
Shaldorn Castle is just as grand and wonderful as you might imagine. Here is my latest tally of droll occurrences from my stay thus far, to make you laugh:
Betsy told me that belowstairs a bird got in through an open window and flew around the room while they were eating. The maids began screaming, and several dinner plates went flying in the mayhem.
Hugh is completely besotted with Lady Ellen. Somehow his tendresse for her has impaired his hearing. Most of the time when he is with her I have to repeat anything I say.
Last night I longed to explore the castle some more instead of being forced to dine with its guests. I was so bored at dinner I mimicked Aunt Agnes’s exact movements for five minutes straight. The pinched expression on her face is very difficult to achieve.
Contrary to Aunt Agnes’s wishes (of course!), I’ve done my level best to get us all sent home but have thus far been unsuccessful. I have made a new acquaintance, you see—one even you would be impressed with—the Duke of Halstead, and it seems I take every opportunity to offend him. I have no doubt my temper will eventually see me disgraced and sent packing. Thank the Lord that while you got Father’s looks, you inherited Mother’s disposition.
Harry, I miss you so much it hurts. You can’t imagine how happy I was to receive your last letter. Everything I see here reminds me of you, for I know you would love it. From up on the fourth floor of the castle I can see the ocean! Try to find some way to cheer yourself up—playing a good prank on one of the other boys would do you a world of good. Perhaps that bully what’s-his-name.
Chin up; you’ll think of something.
All my love,
Juliet
I signed the letter and rubbed at my forehead. Most of my words felt trite, my letter full of platitudes. But what else could I do until I turned twenty-one and had the power to act? I’d specifically avoided mentioning my plans to bring Harry home to study once I came of age and became his guardian. Doing so would only make his remaining time there more miserable. He at least needed a chance to try to settle in and make friends. I toyed with the idea of ripping the whole letter up, but I couldn’t find it in me to try again. Better to send it off and have Harry know I’d been thinking of him than send nothing at all.
I folded up the paper and set it aside, gathering my knees up to my chest and pulling my dress down to cover my ankles. Why did everything inside of me feel so amiss?
Leaning my head against the cool pane of the window, I closed my eyes. Despite my best efforts and every promise I’d made myself, I feared I was failing Harry. That forlorn look in his usually warm brown eyes as he’d left for Harrow still weighed on me.
At times like these, I missed the stars. The evenings since our arrival at Shaldorn had been cloudy and mist-filled, obscuring the night sky. But I ached to look up at them and imagine my father holding me, pointing up at the constellations, as he had when I was a young girl. He’d pull me close, combing through my hair with his wind-weathered fingers, as if he’d never let me go. I choked back emotion, trying to shut my heart against the pain of missing him.
If Father were still here, Harry wouldn’t be so far away. And I’d not be in this mess in the first place, for I wouldn’t be required to follow Aunt Agnes and my cousins around, meeting troublesome dukes.
A knock sounded at the door. “Juliet, come. We don’t want to be late for services.” Aunt Agnes sounded impatient, and I knew better than to make her wait.
Wiping at my tears, I got up from the window seat and smoothed my dress. When I opened the door and slipped into the corridor, I met with Aunt Agnes’s disapproving stare. “How can your dress already be wrinkled at this hour?” she asked, her mouth curving down into a frown.
I walked with her down the stairs, choosing not to reply, since nothing would appease her.
She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “I have not yet had the chance to inquire about your tour with the duke.”
I coughed to cover my gasp. How had she found out? I’d told no one but Robert, but it seemed unlikely that he would pass the news on to his mother.
Clasping my hands in front of me, I prepared myself to be thoroughly interrogated on our walk to church. I was accustomed to Aunt Agnes barraging me with all sorts of questions as I gave her ample information while withholding the knowledge she actually wanted—a practice I’d perfected.
She walked quickly and spoke at the same hurried pace. “I must know: did there seem
