Page 17 of Waking Roslyn

I hurried to sit, but my hands shook.

“Edmund,” Lisette said in a conciliatory tone. “I’m certain she was just startled.”

I tuned them both out and focused only on finishing my food, even though what I really wanted was to run from the room. I hated that Edmund could ruin the mood so thoroughly. I hated that the ache in my shoulder started to throb at the reminder of my childhood tormentors. I hated that not only did I feel unwanted and in the way around nobility in general, but I was starting to feel that way around Edmund as well.

The moment I was finished, I excused myself and escaped out to the gardens, trying to shake off the feelings of vulnerability and fear and wishing desperately there was something I could do to banish that fear.

I thought again about the girls I’d seen learning to fight. As much as I was coming to appreciate this place, the truth was that I could never escape the well of fear that I had buried inside me. But if I knew how to defend myself, might that fear ease?

I looked off into the woods, toward Sutton Manor where I had seen the group of servants training a few days ago. Then I let my feet carry me in that direction. I found the same well-trod path I had used the other day and walked it with purpose. If they trained servants, and if they trained young girls, then if I asked nicely, would they train me? I let myself hope, right up until I reached the break in the trees. The yard at Sutton Manor where they had trained before was empty now. My shoulders fell. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Surely they didn’t train every day. And even if they did, I had no idea what time they gathered. Perhaps if I kept an eye on the back gardens of Bridgefield, I might see them the next time they escaped into the woods. I had time. And despite the sudden eagerness I felt to do something to truly protect myself, I could be patient.

Disappointed but still determined, I turned back the way I’d come. This time I walked slowly, letting myself once again sink into the quiet comfort of the woods. I gathered a bundle of dark-pink flowers that matched the color of my dress and breathed them in, letting their scent calm me before focusing on each tense area of my body. I did as my mother had taught me, allowing those places to loosen as I acknowledged the hurt behind them and let them go.

The ritual worked its magic, allowing the breeze against my skin and the skittering of the leaves overhead to bring my soul back to peace.

I smiled, grateful that such a thing was possible here. What a relief it was to exist out in the open and not feel like a burden. I breathed in and out, listening for the song on the breeze. It was something I’d done with my mother when I was young. She always said the breeze held a song, and if you listened close enough, you could hear it and then join in.

I smiled at that memory and let myself begin to hum as I stooped to pick a couple more wildflowers. As I listened the way my mother had taught me, I thought I heard the breeze’s song coming from farther in the woods, so I stepped off the path and decided to chase it, humming as I went.

John

It was nearing sunset, and I’d finished a full day’s work. My hands were caked in dirt and my shirt stuck to my skin, so I walked to the edge of the property where the stream ran and washed up. My mother didn’t appreciate it when I came into the kitchen carrying half the flowerbed with me. I scrubbed my hands and face, then took off my shirt and rinsed my arms and chest.

As I sat there on the bank, I heard the sound of someone humming. Curious, I got up and grabbed my shirt before following the sound closer to Bridgefield.

When she came into view, my legs wouldn’t move and my throat felt too thick to speak. Not that I would have known what to say. Not when I was watching something so…oddly beautiful.

Miss Rose was dancing, her feet moving in a one-two-three one-two-three pattern as her arms swayed from side to side. She twirled, then wrapped an arm around a tree and circled it.

What a strange creature she was. Strange and yet…carefree. I’d seen her several times since the day I’d spotted her watching us from the trees, but I’d never seen her like this.

I’d seen her wandering the gardens and the woods a number of times. She was quiet, maybe a little shy, and kept to herself for the most part, but she always looked content when I’d seen her. Even happy sometimes. It was a bold contrast to the general feeling among all the other residents. Lord Rockwell was constantly scowling, which put the staff on edge, and his wife seemed unsure how to deal with her unpleasant husband, though she did her best to be polite to everyone.

Lady Rockwell and Miss Rose had gone into the village a couple days ago to visit the shops on High Street. The man who dropped off vegetables to the kitchen each week had spent ten minutes telling my mother all about it. The village couldn’t stop buzzing about the Rockwells’ arrival. I was both annoyed and grateful for their presence. Lord Rockwell was cleaning up the mess that Magistrate Reeve and his corrupt constables had left. Yes, he was doing it only because his father ordered it, but the result was the same. The people of Murrwood were safer and happier. It was a relief and I appreciated his efforts.

I’d trained with the others at Sutton twice more this week, and both times I’d kept an eye on the tree line, wondering if Miss Rose would show up to watch us again. She hadn’t.

And now she was here in the woods, dancing, and I didn’t know what to think of it.

When my heartbeat had quieted enough that I could hear over its pounding, I realized that she wasn’t just humming, but singing to herself. It wasn’t full-throated or showy. It was quiet and sweet.

Up until now, I had been under the impression that she was quiet and reserved.

She did not look quiet and reserved now.

The more I watched, the less odd she seemed. Instead she looked ethereal, like a water sprite who had stepped on land and only had a few moments to rejoice in the adventure of it. Though her dark-pink dress was fine and of the highest quality, she moved easily, unconcerned when her skirt brushed against the bark of a tree. Something inside me rose up, wanting to know how she was able to create this moment of peace and weave it into a spell that held me rooted to the ground.

I should walk away. I was intruding on her enjoyment, and if I continued to stand here, watching her like I wanted to—it would be bad form.

So I swallowed the lump in my throat and pried my feet from the ground, ducking away before she could see me. I retraced my steps to the stream and then returned to Bridgefield along the path, unsure if I would ever forget the scene I’d just witnessed, and fairly certain I didn’t want to.

6

Roslyn

We had just finished a lovely dinner of lamb and roasted vegetables and were retiring to the sitting room where Lisette and I would discuss what else needed to be done to the house and Edmund would catch up on his correspondence. Normally, he would have gone to his study for such things, but I got the impression that the lack of other gentlemen to talk to was wearing on him. And though he did not often join in the conversations that Lisette and I had, he seemed to enjoy himself on occasion. This both confused and gladdened Lisette. Edmund liked his wife, but in Winhaven, he’d been just as content to be around anyone else as he was to be around her. He did not seem to crave her company.

As we were settling into the sitting room, I noticed the sound of a carriage approaching, unmistakable and out of place. Edmund did not like it when people showed up at Bridgefield, because there didn’t seem to be anyone in Murrwood whom he liked.