Molly drew in a long breath and chewed at her bottom lip like she usually did when attempting to keep her thoughts to herself. Aside from Liza, Molly was my closest alliance. When she held back her cleverly disguised opinions, it was serious.
I kneeled again and dug my arm deep inside the trunk. “Free your tongue. What is it?”
Molly hesitated, watching as I pulled out a wooden horse and set it in the pile, then tucked a loose string of golden hair behind her ear.
“You do not wish to lie to Mama again,” I mused. “You think I am being irrational. That if you were getting married, you would not care about something as silly as a list of hopes and wishes to complete beforehand. But I am not as good as you, Molly. I am a mess. I’ve always been.”
“You do often smear your dresses with paint.”
I only half heard her. My own words felt like a dam about to burst. I felt them in my bones and clawing up my throat. All my life, I’d worked for this moment. I’d polished my accomplishments, learned languages and hostess skills and more manners than I could possibly uphold in an evening. And yet ...
I glanced up at my maid, who watched me with a serious gaze, waiting.
“Tell me,” Molly said tenderly, kneeling down beside me. “What are you feeling?”
So many things. Nervous. Frightened of falling short for my family, my intended, and his family. But there was something else, too. Something hard to name. “I feel ... incomplete. Like I have not lived enough to warrant such a major life change. To be a man’swife, Molly. To run my own household. Benjamin has experienced more than I have, and he’s two years younger than I am.”
“But that is the way of things, Miss Newbury. Your brother requires a more extensive education. More experience—”
“Because he is the heir, yes, I realize.” That same familiar burning engulfed my chest.Iwanted more. Was that so terrible? “I imagined my engagement would feel more satisfying.” Immediately, I wished I could rescind the words. It was a mortifying thing to admit, especially coming from a girl who wanted for nothing. I had no reason to complain or wish or dream because I already had everything, and what I did not have, I was about to get. And all this spoken to my lady’s maid.
Molly watched me with nothing but kindness in her eyes, so I leaned against the foot of my bed and continued, softer, “Where is the excitement?” I laughed at the notion, at my grand expectations, but the sound came out pained and mournful. “There should bemusic. I feel as if I have been robbed of something I never had. But I think it’s more that I have not yet lived. I am not ready to give my life away.”
Molly hesitated for what felt like an eternity, her blue-green eyes filled with compassion. Then she said, “If I may, miss. You have only been engaged for a few weeks. Even still, I wonder if anyone is ever trulyreadyfor marriage. Is it not a choice that we make based on trust and hope for the future?”
Of course Molly would say something beautiful to make me feel like an utter shrew. “Is it?” I said as I considered her wisdom. Could I trust my intended? I wanted to. I wanted everything between us to be perfect, to fit just right. I wanted to feel as excited as Mama was for my wedding plans, and to revel in my success like Father did. A match as good as mine came once in a century, he’d said.
I could easily recall my aunt Alice’s wedding, the first one I’d ever attended. At twelve years of age, I’d been enchanted by her beautiful dress, her perfect curls adorned with flowers, and how she laughed and grinned the whole day as though she’d never felt so free in all her life.
When I’d told her how I wanted to be just like her on my own wedding day, so happy and glowing and unafraid, she’d pulled me in close. She’d smelled sweetly of lavender, and she’d looked me directly in the eyes, and said, “Rosalind, my darling, wild girl. You are so free and full of adventure. But one day a man will come along and you’ll want to give your entire life to him. Make sure you’ve lived it fully first.” Then she’d tugged out a folded square of paper from her reticule. “I’d meant to give this to Marvin,” she’d said of her new husband. “But I have a copy at home. This is my completed list of all the things I wanted to experience before my wedding. Use it to inspire your own list.”
Wide-eyed and incredulous, and utterlyinexperienced in all things, I’d taken her list and spent the next few weeks creating my own, promising myself that when my time came to marry, I’d be as ready as she was.
“A sonnet, then.” Molly stood, backed into the door and opened it, and I nodded my thanks. She offered a small smile and said, “Good luck, Miss Newbury.” She shut the door behind her.
The lie would not hold Mama off for long. Soon, she’d huff all the way to my room to drag me downstairs herself.
I sniffed and wiped a tear from my eye, pushing my emotions firmly down and out of reach. Tears would not serve me now. I needed to find my list and escape to Ivy Manor to see Liza without Mama’s notice. Wringing my hands together, I stood and circled the room. Where had I stashed that little green box?
I returned to my knees and again leaned over the deep wooden trunk. I pulled out each trinket, one by one, each memory I’d accumulated over my twenty years of living, until all that was left were the blankets that lined the bottom of the trunk. How could this be? That single paper was the key to alleviating all my discomfort.
Accomplishing everything on my list as Aunt Alice had instructed, everything I’d wanted formyself, would ensure that I was ready to share the next chapter of my life with someone. I needed to find it. I had to.
Would that I could remember my list from memory. There was a line about the ocean ... something about a painting of mine ...
Wherever could I have hidden it? I leaned over the side of my trunk one last time. As I reached in to smooth the corner of a wrinkled blanket, my hand hit something hard.
I froze, eyes focused on the spot.
In a flash, I yanked the blanket back, and there, pressed up against the corner, was a square green box with the wordRosalindpainted in black along the lid.
I pulled it out; the box fit perfectly in my hands.
I unlatched the little hook and creaked open the lid. Faded ribbons lay on top. I carefully pulled them out and placed them in my pile. Underneath the ribbons sat a stack of pressed flowers, and beneath the flowers was a neatly folded paper.
My list!
I snatched the little square out of the box and placed it securely behind the ribbon tied tightly around my waist. The only other person I trusted to read my list was Liza. But if I had any hope of seeing her today, I needed to escape to Ivy Manornow, before Mama came looking for me.
