Valerie hesitated, then nodded once. “About everything.”
Amelia tilted her head. “Everything is rather a large subject.”
“Yes, it is a lot to understand. To have a mother return from the dead. I wish I could love as a daughter should, but she has wounded me too greatly. I fear the detachment has only grown stronger. She is bad for David and me. I do not wish harm onher, but I do not wish her to be in our lives,” Valerie said softly. “I think I am beginning to understand it all.” She paused, eyes dropping for a moment.
“It takes great courage to admit such things and come to terms with them. You are wise beyond your years,” Amelia said.
“Thank you. And… I wanted to thank you for something else,” Valerie said.
Amelia blinked. “For what?”
“For not treating me like a child when I behaved like one,” Valerie replied, her voice steadier now. “For correcting me without making me feel small. For… not giving up on me.”
A silence settled between them, warm rather than awkward. Amelia felt something tighten pleasantly in her throat. She had not expected gratitude to be so difficult to receive.
“I did not always make it easy to be helped,” Valerie added with a faint, self-aware smile, “but I can see now how it has shaped me.”
Amelia stepped closer, her expression softening. “You did not need shaping, Valerie. Only space to become who you already were.”
Valerie stepped forward impulsively, wrapping her arms around Amelia in a quick, sincere embrace. Amelia hesitated only amoment before returning it, her hands resting gently at Valerie’s back. It felt surprisingly natural, as though something that had been uncertain between them had finally settled into place.
“Thank you,” Valerie murmured again, quieter now.
Amelia closed her eyes briefly. “I am proud of you,” she said simply. “More than you know.”
When they finally separated, Valerie straightened her posture again, though her expression was lighter. “Now go,” she said briskly, reclaiming her composure with admirable speed. “Before you start making me sentimental again. I have a reputation to maintain.”
Amelia smiled. “A terrifying one, I am sure.”
“Absolutely.” Valerie turned back toward the mirror. “And I intend to ruin it entirely by behaving properly at dinner.”
Amelia left the room with a soft laugh, the sound lingering behind her as she stepped into the corridor. For a moment, she simply stood there, letting the quiet settle around her. Then, almost without thinking, she made her way to her own room.
Inside, she sat at the small writing desk near the window and pulled out paper and ink. The familiar motion steadied her. For a brief moment, she thought of Bethany, her sister’s quick wit, her relentless honesty, the way she always seemed to see straightthrough pretense. A pang of homesickness struck unexpectedly sharply.
Dear Bethany,she began carefully.
She paused, pen hovering. What could she safely say? Too much truth would raise questions she could not answer. Too little would feel like a betrayal. In the end, she chose something between the two.
Things here have become rather strange,she wrote slowly.I am well, and I believe I will be able to visit with you sooner than expected if all goes as it should.
She hesitated again, then added nothing further. No mention of names. No mention of Anderton Manor. No mention of the storm of people and secrets she now stood within. Folding the letter carefully, she sealed it with wax and set it aside, feeling both lighter and more constrained at once.
When she changed into her evening gown for dinner, she moved almost automatically. The fabric was modest but elegant, a soft shade that suited candlelight more than daylight. As she fastened the final hook, she caught her reflection and paused. She hardly recognized the woman staring back—composed, careful, and no longer quite as lost as she had been weeks before.
Dinner was still some time away, and she found herself drawn into the corridor instead of remaining still. Anderton Manor stretched around her in polished wood and flickering light, its grand rooms quiet and comforting. She walked slowly, herfingers brushing lightly along carved banisters, glancing into drawing rooms where chandeliers glittered like captured stars.
It struck her suddenly how far she had come. From the day she had fled the Duke of Mansfield’s house in desperation, believing she had nowhere left to go, to standing here now among people who had become, against all expectation, something close to family. Gabriel had brought her here, and in doing so, he had changed everything, though she was no longer certain whether she was more changed by him or by the life he had surrounded her with.
A faint unease followed the thought.
Change always carries a cost.
Her mind, as it so often did when left unguarded, drifted toward Gabriel.
The memory of his presence was never far these days: the quiet certainty of him, the way his gaze seemed to see more than she intended to show. And now, with Helen’s return still hanging like an unspoken threat over the house, she could not help imagining every possible ending.
What if he lost this battle? What if Helen succeeded in forcing her way back into their lives, into the children’s lives, into his?
