Her mother finally found her voice, although it sounded faint and brittle. “I do not understand how you can say such things.”
Hazel felt the guilt twist again, but beneath it, something steadier stood firm. “Because they needed to be said, because otherwise nothing will ever change, and I want all of us to be better for it.”
Lady Belvington’s lips parted, but no words came. Hazel realized then that the truth, which had been long avoided, finally reached her mother. It had not been cruel, only honest. And though guilt murmured inside her, Hazel recognized it now for what it was: the echo of a role she no longer wished to play.
Hazel stood first. It felt strange, leaving without first having the plates cleared, without gathering her sisters or making a list of instructions for the housekeeper.
“I should be going,” she said.
Her mother stiffened. “So soon?”
“Yes,” Hazel replied gently. “I believe it is best.”
Lady Belvington did not rise. She merely adjusted her shawl and looked away toward the flowering hedges. “Very well, then. You know where the door is.”
The words pricked at Hazel’s heart, but she did not let them pierce. Perhaps Mama needed time. Hazel had had years tounderstand her burden, while her mother had been given ten minutes.
Chastity stood at once, and Patience a half-second after her. “We will walk you out,” Patience announced, casting a pointed glance at their mother, who did not move.
Hazel offered no comment. It was enough to acknowledge the ache quietly, without giving it power.
The walk through the garden felt longer than it ever had. The bright chatter of birds, the sweet scent of pear blossoms, the familiar gravel path, everything was as she remembered it, and yet she felt like a guest moving through someone else’s memory.
Chastity linked their arms tightly. “Hazel… we are sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Hazel replied at once.
Patience shook her head. “No. We relied on you far too much. We thought… well, I suppose we never thought at all. It was just what we always did.”
Chastity’s voice softened. “But wewilldo better.”
Hazel smiled. “No one expects perfection, my dears. Only effort.”
Chastity nodded, and as she did so, her chin wobbled a little. “You shall have that.”
Patience reached out and adjusted Hazel’s cloak collar, a gesture so motherly that Hazel almost laughed at the irony. “Will you visit again soon?”
“Yes,” Hazel said. “Hopefully with no emergencies involved.”
All three released soft, rueful laughs. At the carriage steps, the ache in Hazel’s chest pulled tight. She suddenly saw them not as the exasperating girls she had spent half her life chasing after, but as young women blinking uncertainly into a future they had never before been asked to shape themselves.
“I love you,” Hazel told them, and they threw themselves at her in two warm, clinging embraces.
Hazel held them both, letting herself feel everything: the grief of letting go, the pride in their promise to try and the dawning relief of knowing she no longer had to be everything to everyone.
When they stepped back, Chastity wiped her eyes. “You really are different.”
Hazel nodded. “Perhaps. But I am still your sister.”
“And we are still yours,” Patience said.
Hazel climbed into the carriage, and the footman closed the door. Through the window, she saw her sisters standing side by side. They had no mother behind them and no guiding hand pushing them forward. It was just the two of them, watching her go, a little frightened but trying to be brave.
She lifted her hand in farewell. They lifted theirs in return.
As the carriage rolled away, Hazel leaned back against the seat. Relief unfurled through her like a deep breath finally released. Yet beneath it, she could feel the ache of change, of love reshaped and of roles relinquished.
But she did not regret one moment of it, for now, her path belonged to her.
