Was she falling in love with Weston Edgeworth?
***
Weston returned home later that evening and had listened to Juliet tell him all about her aunt when they were alone in their room. He had an uneventful day and didn't want to bore Juliet with it when she asked. He was more than happy, on the other hand, to hear about hers.
“You should have seen it, Weston. It was the most marvelous thing ever. She even asked me to show her the garden.” Juliet said, her voice coated in palpable and contagious euphoria.
“I assume you did?” Weston asked, loosening his cravat and waistcoat. Juliet sat on the bed and talked, the excitement from the afternoon still lingering in her voice.
“Of course. She was happy to see it.”
Weston smiled. He knew how much the garden meant to Juliet, and with the work she had done on it so far, he knew she was proud of it. She would talk about it to anyone who even showed the slightest interest.
“Is she married, your aunt? I assume she would come with her husband.”
“Oh.” Juliet said, the smile slightly fading from her face. “She isn't. Her husband died a few years back. She lost him to the fever.”
“Oh. That must have been terrible.” Weston whispered. He untucked his shirt, walked to the bed, and sat beside her. “I can't imagine what she must've gone through.”
“You know, he died the same year my mother did, too, so the sadness was overwhelming for her. She lost her husband and her sister in the same period.”
Weston watched Juliet's countenance. Usually, when matters regarding her mother came up, she would retreat into her mind a little and let the sadness take over her. He could feel her grow slightly quiet this time around at the mention of her mother but she didn't fully go into recluse like usual.
She must be slowly moving on.
“So she lives alone?” He asked, in a lazy tone to move on from the subject.
“Yes.” Juliet replied. “She is living the dream of true freedom.”
Weston scoffed. “The dream indeed.”
At that moment, memories of a particular conversation she'd had earlier crept into her mind, and it caused her to remember one of the questions she'd meant to ask him. She remembered his exact words when she had broached the subject of running away from societal pressures.
Isn't that the dream?
“Have you ever thought of dropping everything? Leave everything behind and retire into some farmhouse outside London?”
Weston frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“Uh—” Juliet trailed off, fearing he would clam up and refuse to say anything or, worse, refuse to talk to her throughout the night. “You have called it a dream twice now. I was just wondering if you ever thought about it.”
Weston sighed. He might as well tell her about his fantasies before he got married to her.
“I did more than think about it. I acted on it.”
“What are you talking about?”
Weston’s eyes shifted to the door. It was locked. He lowered his voice nonetheless. “You cannot tell anyone about this. Promise me.”
“I promise.” Juliet's response was honest. Weston believed her. There was something about the way she said it that reassured him.
“I have bought a cottage along the Scottish border. Now, except Charles and me and, well, now you, no one else knows about this.”
“Really? No one?”
“Not even Anne.”
Juliet felt a satisfactory laugh creep onto her face. Her husband had trusted her enough to tell her about this. She was not only grateful for it, but she also felt obliged to back him up on his innermost thoughts.
