His eyes turned to Juliet one more time. She had cut a part of her chicken and was now fiddling it with her fork. He watched her partly out of curiosity and partly absent-mindedly as she played with her food. Soon, she raised her head, and their eyes met.
He couldn't read her expression as it was as blank as an empty canvas. He hoped she couldn't read him, too. All Weston wanted to do was exit the feast and find solace in his study. Thator sleep for as long as possible until he was awoken from this terrible nightmare that had become his life. He didn't have the energy to speak or eat. He couldn't. He had just been thrown into a life sentence of strife and sadness. His soul couldn't bear any more. He wished Charles was around, but he also had business to attend to. Weston wondered just how busy he had to be for him not to make time for his wedding feast but thought not too much of it. His mind drifted away from the thought almost immediately.
“I hope you found your new room to your liking?” Beatrice asked, breaking the awkward silence, if out of necessity. Juliet turned to her.
“Most definitely, Lady Beatrice.”
Beatrice smiled. “I don't know how you do things back in town, but you can just refer to me as mother-in-law.”
Juliet nodded in response.
“Or mother, if you're more comfortable with that.”
“Alright.” Juliet responded.
“I had the room repainted myself.” Lady Beatrice continued.
Juliet smiled.That explained it.
“I tried to talk her out of it.” Anne chipped in. “I told her no one would ever be comfortable with that shade of green.”
Juliet chuckled slightly. “I think it's marvelous.”
“It is your room, Juliet.” Lady Beatrice continued. “If you do not like the colour, you can always change it.”
“Thank you, Mother.” She said.
Mother.
The word had hit Weston's chest like a drum.
“I know the dresses in the cupboard may not exactly fit you well.” Anne said after drinking from her cup. “That is why we are having the dressmaker over. That way, you can have dresses that are meant for you, but until she arrives, I hope you can make do with the dresses.”
“Absolutely.” Juliet responded.
“And if you are not too busy, you could work on a potion that will unlock your husband's mouth. I'm worried he might have lost his voice.” Beatrice added.
Weston sighed. “There is nothing to say.”
“You could at least comment on the food.” Beatrice said, prodding even further.
Weston started at his plate hard and long. “The feast is wonderful, Mother.”
“Now, was that so hard? I hope you won't remain mute when you're with your wife. A marriage works when the couple talk to each other.” Beatrice said.
“Thank you for the advice, mother.”
Weston felt a wave of tightness clutch his chest. He looked up at Juliet, who was now trying to force some food down her throat. He turned to look at Anne, who looked most compassionately at Juliet. He then finally faced his mother, who was staring back at him most coldly.
It registered right there and then in his mind that he was well and truly trapped.
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.”
