Page 100 of Waking Roslyn

She reached over and squeezed my hand, hard. It was a fierce gesture that spoke of sadness and regret and desperation. “I’m so sorry, Rose.”

“It’s all right,” I said, even though nothing felt like it would ever be right again.

“It’s not all right,” she said as she sniffed and fought off tears. “You are so much the same, and yet so very different. All this time I’ve been imagining you happily playing a harp, taking solace in it, and now…”

“I found solace in other things. Especially at Bridgefield. Mother, I was happy there.”

This made her smile, but her tears still started to fall. “I just wish you could be happy here. I wish we could all just leave Saldine and start new, but…”

She looked over at my father and he just gave her a half-smile, half-frown. I knew he wanted to give her that freedom, give all of us that freedom. But his money and livelihood were all tied to this land. If my parents left, they would have nothing.

“I’m too terrified to stay here. I’m sorry, Father,” I said, my voice trembling with the struggle of wanting to give my parents what they wanted and yet being unable to ignore the immediate threat that sat before me. “I wish I could stay.”

“Rose,” my father said. “Have you considered that the letter was meant to chase you away?”

“Does it matter?” I challenged.

“I just wonder,” he said gently, “if it’s time to stop running.”

Tears stung my eyes as all my fear reared up. “I’m not that brave.” I wished I were. I wished I could stand and fight and claim my title with authority and strength. But that wasn’t what my parents had asked me to do. They’d asked me to run, and I’d done just that for the past four years.

“Oh!” My mother tossed down the napkin she’d been using to dab at her eyes. “It’s a shame you can’t just marry a commoner like your father did. Then there would be no chance of you inheriting, and they might leave you in peace.”

She took up her goblet and sipped at it, trying to contain her emotions as my father patted her other hand.

I sat there, frozen in place by her words.

My mother sniffed, sat up straight, and forced herself to smile. “We will figure this out,” she said.

“I hope that’s true,” I muttered, but my mind had gone off in a completely different direction.

Why didn’t I just marry a commoner? My father had lost his right to inherit when he’d married my mother because she could not legally rule at his side since she was not of the upper class. So then…why could I not do that?

After all, John…John. Was I completely mad for thinking that he might want to marry me? Was it insanity to think that I could be safe by asking him to sacrifice the life he knew?

The idea was too complicated and too wonderful and too delicate for me to know what to do with it. So I did my best to put it aside. Perhaps the idea had merit, but I would need to let it sink in at the very least.

I was grateful my mother had not given me the idea earlier in the meal. As it was, the three of us looked at one another, knowing we were on the cusp of goodbye. Then my father raised his glass. “A toast to Roslyn.”

I smiled, and my mother quickly raised her own glass.

“I hope you know how extraordinary you are,” he said, and I thought I saw tears swimming in his eyes. But then he lowered his eyes and drank.

After breakfast, I went up to my room and Everly helped me finish readying for our departure.

Everly remained behind to oversee the transfer of my trunks downstairs while I went down to the drawing room.

I entered and was surprised to find nearly every hard surface covered in flower arrangements. “What in the world?” I muttered to myself.

“They are all for you.”

I turned. John stood in the doorway, looking as strong and steady as always. “Me?”

He nodded. “It seems you collected a number of admirers at last night’s ball.”

“Did I really?” I crossed to one bouquet and picked up the card that was propped in front of it. Some lord whose name I did not recognize had enjoyed our dance. I picked up another card and another. Each said pretty much the same thing. “Well, I suppose it is some comfort that I am now considered tolerable enough to marry for political gain,” I muttered.

“You’re also extremely pretty,” John said.