Juliet nodded and did as she was told. The harrowing feeling she had shelved away earlier started to resurface the closer she got to the door, its effect almost twice as harsh.
What was happening? This was an odd feeling for her, and she did not like it at all.
The line before her had stretched out past the cobblestones already. It was time to get to work.
She started to welcome the guests, most of them women who have either deemed themselves as Beatrice's friends when she didn't even know their names or acquaintances she had met at one event or the other. Thanks to the footman assigned to assist her, she didn't have to worry about not knowing their names or the names of their houses. Her eyes spotted the Duke and Duchess of Thornewood as they joined the line in the distance. She looked away almost immediately. She didn't want to be perceived by them until she absolutely had to. Soon, Anne joined her, and the lines started to move a bit faster. Juliet continued toplaster the biggest smile on her face and laugh off every genuine or backhanded compliment she received.
“It is great to see you have managed to turn your life around.” One of the women had said as Juliet held her hands in greeting. “We thought you would become so depressed in your marriage that you would begin to throw yourself to drunk men in taverns.”
Again, Juliet laughed as much as she could. It was all she could do. Saying anything else would cause even more unnecessary drama and she did not want that.
She had ushered in a few more Dukes and Madams when her eyes landed on it.
A familiar carriage that caused her heart to drop.
Her eyes followed it till it finally stopped near the other carriages. The harrowing feeling in her body became even more magnified, and at that moment, she knew why.
It bore her family's insignia. Willowbrook’s insignia.
“Oh, dear Lord.” She whispered, feeling the blood drain from her face.
Like the ultimate confirmation of her fears, she watched her father, Lord Peter Fairmont, slowly descend from the carriage, aided by a footman. He was followed by Adam and Camilla, who remained stuck together as they all walked towards the line.
Juliet felt her heart start to pound mercilessly. That was the source of the feeling of doom. That was why she wouldn't stop thinking something catastrophic would happen to her.
The catastrophe just landed before her new home, and she couldn't move her feet off the floor.
Her father had lost a little weight. Not enough to raise any kind of concern. He looked mightily sharp in his green waistcoat and shirt. Adam was in the same outfit except in red. His hair had grown fuller, and she could see a few wrinkles around his eyes. Camilla, on the other hand, was in a giant light blue dress. One that covered her entire feet and dragged off the floor.
The closer they got, the harder it became for her to breathe. She wasn't ready to hear whatever they had to say to her. She wasn't even ready to talk to them about anything. This was all sudden and had disoriented her. Soon, she started to suffocate even harder.
“Come with me.” Anne had silently called behind her. She did not argue. They headed away from the doors and the guests.
“But the guests—” Juliet felt herself say in between labored breathing.
“If mother has a problem, she shall take it up with me. Do not worry about that.”
Anne led Juliet to her room, throwing nasty glares at the servants who stopped to watch them go. Juliet rested on her bed and clutched her chest.
“I can't— I can't—” She whispered. Anne rushed out of the room and in a few minutes, returned with Weston.
“Juliet.” Weston called, rushing to her side, his face laced with the utmost worry. “What is wrong with her?” Weston asked, turning to Anne, who rested gently on the doorway.
“My father.” Juliet managed to say. “He is out there with my family. With Adam and Camilla.”
“What? This was an anniversary. They didn't need to be invited. Why would they—” Weston called but froze halfway, feeling a twist of epiphany crash into him.
“Mother.” Anne said, lending a voice to the thoughts in his head.
Weston turned to his wife and grabbed her gloved hands. “Juliet.”
“I can't breathe. The room.”
“Are the windows open? I cannot breathe.”
“Juliet—”
“Why can't I breathe?”
