She was about to say something else but was interrupted by a knock on the door. Amelia called for the person to enter, her toes curling at the thought that it might be her husband. However, when the butler entered, Amelia was becoming accustomed to the twinge of letdown.
“Please pardon the intrusion, Your Grace,” he greeted, bowing deeply. “I trust you had a good sleep?”
“I did, thank you,” Amelia met his eyes in the mirror. “Is there anything I can help you with, Thomas?”
He held up a folded envelope that bore no seal. “Some correspondence arrived for Your Grace earlier this morning.”
Amelia instantly recognized it as one from Dorothy, her heart lifting even before she read it. Her last letter to Dorothy had been a week ago and she had been eagerly awaiting a response since then. “You may leave it on my desk.”
After placing it there, the butler bowed once more, taking a step back. “If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Thomas. Oh, and do extend my regards to Gideon,” she added as an afterthought, hoping to lighten the mood.
She could have sworn mirth flashed in his eyes as he nodded. “I am certain that he will receive it warmly, Your Grace.”
Amelia beamed at his response and watched as he left, her mind lingering on his last words. Her yearning to see Gideon all but overwhelmed her at that point, but she tucked the urge away, knowing that she would have to do without his presence for now.
Goodness, what has gotten into me?Amelia could hardly believe how much had changed since she’d first arrived. With a content sigh, she glanced at the letter in the reflection. She could read it later, it left her with something to look forward to. For now, she wished to live for herself, if only for the morning.
It didn’t take her very long to get dressed after her hair had been arranged. Amelia donned a gown of rich jade and a matching bonnet, intent on taking a morning stroll through the gardens to whet her appetite before breakfast. It was still quite early, after all.
The gardens of the castle were vast and somewhat imposing. But the daunting landscape before her wasn’t a bother since she spent most of the time talking with Jenny about all manners of things. Jenny, comfortable once more, jabbered on about a footman she had become smitten with, who no longer worked at Castle Stanhope. Apparently, the young man had resigned to move back to the countryside to care for his ailing mother. They exchanged letters every now and then, and, from the sound of it, it seemed as if this young man was quite smitten with Jenny as well.
Amelia was so engrossed in the conversation that she hadn’t realized they’d wandered quite far from the gardens. She slowed her steps, glancing behind her at the distant castle. The more they walked, the more secluded they seemed to become, as if they were worlds away from London rather than on its outskirts.
“Are you enjoying the scenery, Your Grace?” Jenny asked, slowing as well to keep pace with Amelia.
Amelia nodded, shifting her attention to the thick beech trees that were steadily enclosing them. The path they headed down seemed well-traveled, the lush green grass lining the edges alongside dots of wildflowers. Amelia inhaled deeply. She hadn’t felt this at peace since the days before her father passed, beforethey’d lost everything and she’d been forced to live with her uncle.
Jenny beamed as if the well-being of the woods was personally under her care. A comfortable silence fell over them as they trudged deeper within, the rustle of leaves and distant bird calls filling the space instead. A gentle breeze brushed against Amelia’s ankles and she was suddenly tempted with the desire to take off her bonnet and undo her hair. She held back the impulse, however.
Just as they were about to veer down another trail, Jenny spoke up from behind, her tone tinged with anxiousness suddenly, “Perhaps we should think about heading back to the castle, Your Grace.”
“Oh, but we’ve hardly begun.” Amelia pressed on in fanciful curiosity without looking back.
“Yes, but… well, I am not quite familiar with this part of the woods,” Jenny confessed.
“Don’t worry, we shan’t be lost.” Idly, Amelia brushed her hand against a moss-covered tree as she wandered by. The air was getting colder, the trees denser. “We have scarcely taken any turns so I’m sure we’ll be able to find our way out.”
Jenny didn’t answer. Amelia glanced back at her, noticing the way she bit her bottom lip before she wiped the nervous look from her face.
“Is everything alright, Jenny?” Amelia asked, pausing for a moment. “You seem troubled.”
“I am simply worried that we are heading too deep into the forest,” Jenny explained again.
Amelia considered this, unwilling to ignore Jenny's discomfort but also not ready to abandon their exploration just yet. She really wasn’t sure why Jenny was getting worried—the castle’s battlements, albeit a slighter silhouette now, were still in clear view above the gathering trees. “What say we continue a little further up until those foxgloves right ahead, and then we can head back.”
Jenny said nothing again but Amelia could all but feel the heavy sigh building in her chest. She tucked aside the bite of guilt she felt, rationalizing her decision with how near the foxgloves indeed were. She didn’t want to turn back just yet but she also didn’t like the thought of making Jenny uncomfortable. Just a while longer, she silently promised herself.
“Your Grace, I think we should—”
“What’s that over there?” Amelia asked, cutting into Jenny’s fretted words. She hastened her pace, eyes fixed on a gray slab of stone that seemed quite out of place amidst the lush greenery. It was nestled in the heart of a small clearing, far too perfectly sculpted to be just an ordinary rock. Amelia noticed that the space around the stone was a little disturbed, hinting at frequent visits
Her curiosity devolved into dark realization when she saw the words inscribed on the slab of stone.
Here lies Jasper Terrell – beloved son, beloved brother.
“Did you know of this place?” Amelia asked, uneasy, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t take her eyes off the gravestone, feeling an odd sense of reverence in the quiet. She slowly approached, kneeling down beside it, unconcerned about dirtying her dress in the mud.
