"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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THE DUBOIS RESIDENCE, IN ALL ITS ELEGANCE AND GRACE, WAS IN A STATE OF EXCITEMENT. The housemaids scurried amongst one another, eagerly discussing in hushed whispers Juliette's promenade with the prince. As the cooks prepared dinner, they kneaded the bread with a certain excitement and pondered whether or not Juliette would marry a prince. Lord DuBois? Well, as he completed paperwork, the man hummed joyously as he knew the circumstances of the promenade. For, Prince Friedrich had asked Lord DuBois permission to propose to Juliette earlier that week. The lord wanted nothing but the best for Juliette. So, he allowed the prince to propose, however, he made clear the final decision would be made by Juliette herself.
Upon arriving back at the house, Juliette was swarmed by questions from Édith and, surprisingly, Edward. The twins followed Juliette around the house as she headed for her bedroom, one sibling flanked each of her hips. The questions did not halt for a second nor did Juliette even have a moment to breathe. The twins asked so many questions that Juliette hardly had time to offer an answer more than 'yes', 'no', or 'maybe'.
However, when Edward asked, "Did you accept the proposal? Are you going to be a princess?" Juliette was rather thankful to be in close quarters of her bedroom. The girl rushed inside the room, shutting the door before her cousins could inquire further information about her afternoon with the prince. She really couldn't muster the energy to respond let alone decide if she was going to accept the proposal or not.
Juliette rested with her back against the door, preventing the twins from opening the door. As uneven breaths escaped her lips, she slid down the wood until she was sitting on the cold hardwood flooring. Hunched forward, she held her head in her hands. The wound on her palm that she obtained from the prince's rose ached against her temple, but the bleeding had ceased earlier that afternoon. As she sat in silence, she stared at the pale purple fabric of her frock and how it shimmered in the sunlight seeping through her window.
Even when Édith released a loud huff and stomped down the hall with Edward following suit, Juliette did not rise from her seat on the ground.
She didn't know what to do. Should she accept the prince's proposal? But, under what reason? Juliette had no desire in becoming a princess or living in a palace. She had no desire to live a life of constant formality, life in the public eye. Nonetheless, the prince was a kind man. No doubt he would make a proper husband. Juliette may even find herself loving him one day. As Juliette sat there with her head cradled in her hands, she was having a hard time coming up with further reasons as to why she should accept his proposal.
But, just as Lady DuBois reassured earlier during their carriage ride home, Juliette didn't have to decide just that moment.
She had time.
Truth be told, Juliette didn't know how long went by before she finally lifted her head from her hands. Half an hour? An hour? All Juliette knew was that the sun was now beginning to set as it inched towards the horizon.
