The carriage swayed and jolted as they left London behind and made their way to the countryside. Marianne had rested her head against the window as she released yet another sigh.
“Oh, Marianne,” Juliet said. “If you continue to sigh in such a manner, you shall lose your voice ere we arrive. I know you feel troubled, but?—”
“I feel such... I cannot find words for it. Like nothing is as it should be.”
“Nothingisas it should be,” Juliet replied. “You have left your husband. We journey toward uncertainty. It is not easy. And if this is not the choice that you are happy with, then we may yet turn back.”
“Would that be folly?” Marianne said.
“I will not say that it would be a mistake. You must follow your own conscience. I do think this is what is right for you now.” She paused and added, “It was kind of him to give you time to say goodbye to little Henry.”
Marianne’s heart clenched at the thought of her last meeting with the little boy. She had only seen him that morning. She had explained to him that she was returning to the convent she had come from, that she was in search of respite.
He had clung to her skirts and implored her not to go. From the corner of her eye, she had seen Lucien, and she had wondered if seeing this display deepened his hatred of her. The notion that he might despise her gave her pain. Did he hate her? There was no cause for hatred. She had not listened to his last entreaty, but truthfully, why should she have?
Nothing would’ve changed. He would’ve said something to convince her to stay, perhaps to even return home, but then?
It would prove an endless pattern.
This was the right decision. She knew it. But then why did it pain her so deeply to leave him behind and to leave Henry behind? She closed her eyes and pressed her head against Juliet’s shoulder as they continued driving away from the life she had fashioned.
Two hours later, they arrived at the convent.
“I confess no joy at seeing this place once more,” Juliet said with a grunt. The coachman unloaded the luggage—more than was strictly necessary.
Marianne, however, smiled. She looked forward to the peace she would soon feel. She should never have left here. Her aunt should’ve let her stay here. Maybe she should have taken her vows. Maybe she still could?
Immediately, the Mother Superior and Sister Bernadette emerged from the building.
“Marianne,” the Mother Superior said. “We received your letter about a day ago stating that you wanted to come back, but you are already here?”
“I hope you do not mind,” she said. “I could not wait for your reply. I had to get away from London. And I so longed to be here. You will not send us away, will you?”
“We would never,” the Mother Superior said. She took Marianne’s hands in her own, then looked at Juliet. “Juliet,” she said, and wrapped her in her arms.
“I am pleased to see you again, although I’m sure you’re not as pleased to see us.”
“I am back sooner than I thought, but it is good to be home,” Juliet said, and Marianne heard the sincerity in her voice.
Marianne looked up to see Sister Bernadette, who looked at her with a certain frown she was all too familiar with.
“I hope you will allow us to remain.”
“Of course, we will allow you to remain,” the Mother Superior said. “I would never send you away. Come now. I will show you to your chambers. It is the same one you had before.”
“Of course,” Juliet said. “The drafty one.”
“Do be grateful,” Sister Bernadette said.
As Marianne followed them back into the convent, thoughts of the life she had just left behind slipped to the back of her mind.
This would be her home for now, at least until she knew for certain where her home would really be.
That night, Marianne slipped under the thin blanket on the hard bed in the small room where she had lain four months beforebeing turned into Lady Wexford. The room was familiar. Even the same chill clung to the air. And yet it was different because she was different. She rolled on her side and looked at Juliet, who was lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.
As if sensing her looking at her, Juliet rolled on her side and looked at her. “Are you glad to be back?”
“I do not know,” Marianne replied. “I feel comfort here. I feel happiness here. But at the same time, it is odd. It is not as it was. But maybe it is simply because I’ve come from a different life.”
