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 abouther.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.
