"My final letters, were they read? Or were they written in vain?"
Although born in France, Juliette Villeneuve often spent her childhood summers in London. With the passing of each summer, her adoration for a certain Bridgerton boy grew. During thei...
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AN EARLY WINTER NIGHT POSSESSED HER MOST PRECIOUS MEMORY. The chilling evening three and a half years prior was warmed by the loving hearts of a husband and wife. They were stricken with endless devotion. The affection they shared for one another was no rival to the cherish held for their dear daughter, Juliette. For, she was their greatest accomplishment, their greatest joy, and their greatest precious gem. Juliette was far more valuable than all the expensive jewels attached to the Villeneuve title.
Some may wonder why Lord Villeneuve was left unbothered without a male successor, seeing as the Villeneuve name dated back centuries. Truth be told, the Lord didn't care about such trivial things. He was blessed with Juliette, who held his heart's affection. He saw no need in a male heir, yes, the family name will die after his death, but he knew nothing gold can last eternally. As long as Juliette led a life of joyousness, then he shall too.
Juliette Eléonore Villeneuve, his dear daughter, his princess, warranted the world. And, there was a time in which Lord Villeneuve was prepared to give it to her.
The family of three was fond of promenades. Whether it be rain or shine, a blizzard or harsh wind, the Villeneuve family could be found sauntering in a nearby park or near the river. They simply enjoyed their own company, as they believed family came first and foremost. The Villeneuve family was once full of love and happiness.
The air would be filled with sounds of pure lighthearted laughter, as well as tales of their recent days. Often, Juliette would read a novel audibly to her parents as they strolled. With each phrase that slipped Juliette's tongue, whether it be from a novel read or of her own intricate creation, Lord and Lady Villeneuve would listen intently. They listened as if the words Juliette spoke were the sole sounds that existed in the universe. Not even the songs of nature nor bustling people could tear their focus. The Villeneuve family lived in a world of their own.
However, the evening which held her most beloved memory, the Villeneuve family promenaded in silence. The only sounds to bless their ears were from their breaths and the trees rustling in the wind. A novel was not grasped in Juliette's hands, nor did Lady Villeneuve indulge in Paris' newest high society scandals. Tranquillity.
A nipping breeze of the chilling December evening reddened her nose and flecks of snow bit at her rosy cheeks. Her thick eyelashes were embellished with unique snowflakes, accentuating the browns of her eyes. Juliette Villeneuve was a beauty, a rarity, and a gem.
As the winter sun fell in the sky, a stunning watercolour painting of vibrant oranges, pale pinks and deep purples was brought to life. Scarce flecks of snow dotted the scenery, a flurrying constellation against the setting sun. The snow cloaking the grass as well as the snowflakes blowing in the light breeze was a blinding white as they reflected against the sun.
