Chapter One
Lady Juliet's palms continued to redden as she inspected the flowers in the garden. Fragrances of fresh roses and all forms of sweet leaves wafted through the air, and her nostrils welcomed all of them. Her shiny dress dragged on with her as she walked across the garden, feeling her shoes dig into the soft soil. She reached for her corset and loosened it a little, letting out a tight exhale in the process. One of the extravagant characteristics of the Willowbrook Estate was the pruned bushes that lined its gardens. Over the years, it had become a place of solace for Juliet herself. A place she could escape to, while running from the roars of the public, from her father, who would waste no opportunity to let her know her social period was coming to an end and hasten her resolve to find a man she would call her husband, or her half-brother, who would all but sing the same tune. In the Willowbrook gardens, she could let herself get lost in the roses, clear her head, and loosen her dress as little or as much as she could.
"Lady Juliet?" The familiar voice of her maid called from the garden's entrance. Juliet turned to look at her, at her gently folded hands and long white gown. Her maid was just as old as she was, maybe a few months older, and had grown to become one of her closest confidants over the years.
"Estelle, is there any reason you decided to tighten my corset even harder this morning?" Juliet asked, reaching for the string one more time. She could barely breathe and trusted Estelle well enough to be herself. While she grew a bit comfortable, she couldn't help but look forward to the next time she would be able to take off the whole thing, the next time she would be able to fully breathe.
"I apologise, milady. I didn't intend to—"
"It's alright." Juliet said, turning back to the flowers. "They look beautiful, don't you agree?"
"They do." Estelle's voice was louder. She had entered the garden.
"You know, I still remember walking across these flowers with my mother." Juliet continued, her fingertips grazing the flowers, triggering the floodgates of her memories. "Nothing gave her as much joy as the garden did."
"She must have been a happy woman." Estelle mentioned, her voice even closer.
"The happiest." Juliet responded, leaning forward to sniff a rose. Vivid images of her mother crept through her mind. She could see her, smiling heartily as the cool afternoon breeze wove through her hair. The happy memories do not come without consequences. The memories of her mother laughing in the gardens as her face glowed from the sun will always be followed by the ones where she died on a harsh winter night, only a few days later. Tears formed around Juliet's eyes. She couldn't hold back the reminiscence. She had never been able to. Sheremembered her mother's last days, how she struggled to eat, drink and retain her weight.
How she struggled to laugh.
"Milady, perhaps you need to stay away from the garden for a while." Estelle offered, knowing Juliet stopping all of a sudden could only mean one thing.
"And do what, Estelle?" Juliet asked.
A brief pause ensued between them and in that moment, all that could be heard was the rustle of nearby leaves gently being tugged by the wind.
"The new season is upon us." Estelle continued, a new form of excitement laden in her voice. "Shall I send for the dressmaker? We might trade in a few choices and see what she comes up with this year?"
Juliet scoffed. "You should know by now, just how little the seasons mean to me. They've always been a way for my father to have me paraded around the halls like one of his paintings. This year is not going to be any different."
"You never know, milady."
"Oh, don't tell me you're this blind." Juliet said, heading down towards her maid. "None of these men ever want to marry Lady Juliet, the woman who is not afraid to speak her mind. They want Lady Juliet, daughter of Lord Willowbrook. They want the dowry. It's all they've ever been after. If you think thisseason is going to be any different, you're even more naive than I thought."
Estelle lowered her head, interlacing her fingers nervously. "Yes, milady."
Juliet sighed. "Look, I did not mean to cause you any sadness. I am just tired of everything. You know how it always happens, Estelle. The Estate gets riddled with men who are nothing but sycophants and social climbers. For once in my entire lifetime on this miserable earth, can I find a man who wants me for my heart and not what my father has to offer? Is that too much to ask?"
"What about Lord Neville? He never wanted you for your money, if I could remember." Estelle asked. Lord Neville had been one of her potential suitors the previous season.
"I had one dance with him and he spent the entire time glaring at my chest." Juliet replied.
Estelle grew silent and Juliet turned to the bushes one more time, her gown dragging the flecks of the dark soil along with it.
"Do you think it was also this hard for my mother to find a husband? Did she have to wait this long?" Juliet asked.
Estelle drew a sigh, contemplating the question. "I cannot be sure. What I know is that if Lady Celia were alive today, she would want you to marry someone who truly knows your heart, not your dowry."
A wave of a slight smile swept across Juliet's face. She stretched out her hand and let it gently run through the roses. She dreaded new seasons. They only brought her fresh heartbreak and a growing hatred for the men in her town, but she knew better than to avoid it. Like all of her problems, she also had to face this one with her head high.
"Send for the dressmaker." She finally said, feeling the soft petals around her fingers. "I have a few ideas for this season and I must know if she can bring them to life or not."
"Yes, milady." Estelle nodded and her voice grew fainter. Juliet didn't need to turn to know her maid had left the garden.
***
Weston's idea of life started and died with Eliza. For over six years, nothing had come close to summoning his spirit back to life again. He had been living through life instead of in it. He walked around like a ghost, spoke to acquaintances like a ghost, and even riding felt empty to him.
