The Voyage (On Hold)

Chapter Three

Two weeks had come and gone since Winifred's magical evening in her parent's ball. She continued to walk through the gardens, sometimes even sneaking out at night to do so underneath the luminous glow of the moonlight. There was something so enchanting about it now...she supposed it was her memories that made the roses seem more red or the wrysteria more purple.

Each day that had passed since her encounter with Thomas had left her anxious and restless. The first day she received a missive from him, she could not help but to nearly squeal aloud in the foyer with excitement. Hastening away to the privacy of her bed chambers, she read the letter avidly over and over. Not long after, she was sending and collecting letters as if she was running a publishing firm.

Even her mother and father, the Earl and Countess Caldwell, had taken notice. Her personality was changing quickly from a demure butterfly into a giddily-dancing hyena. Once, they tried to ask who she was writing so enthusiastically over dinner.

"Why, Lady Lambert of course. She is my dearest friend, after all." She would answer breezily with her head still in the clouds, that same lopsided smile plastered on her face as if she was born with it.

"You should at least invite her over then. Enough writing, it cannot be healthy for your mental wellbeing, child." Her father had retorted, stuffing a bite of roasted mutton into his mouth.

"What an excellent idea!" She had exclaimed, "I shall write to her and invite her over for tea tomorrow!" Bounding out of her chair, she exited the dining room in a tizzy of giggles.

Her mother and father looked at each other in worry after she left.

"I think...perhaps, we should contact Lord Fenwick." Her mother murmured with an imploring lift of her brows. Her father cleared his throat and stood to his feet, settling his fork down beside his place.

"I do believe you're right, dearest." He concurred, exuding a long sigh as he sauntered off towards his study.

The following afternoon, Emily and Winifred sat on the outside balcony terrace of Winifred's room, looking out over the busy sidewalk below. A birtch branch was floating gently up and down from the side of the balcony and Winifred reached out to clasp its evergreen leaves in her fingers, a faraway expression on her face.

"I feel like it's been forever since I've seen you." Emily glanced at her in questioning, "Pray tell, what has kept you so busy since the ball?"

"Oh nothing really..." Winifred cooed, looking off into the distance where the park was. Was Thomas there today? What was he up to? Was he thinking about her too?

Emily stared at her dubiously with a flat mouth and slumped shoulders before she turned away and replied over her shoulder, "Hmm. Right...it surely has nothing to do Mr. Braxton."

Winifred's eyes widened and she snapped her head around to look at Emily in flabbergasted surprise.

"How did you-"

"The ball. Me and perhaps fifty others saw you leave with him outside to the gardens. It's not like you were being very discreet."

Heat flamed up Winifred's face as her mouth went slack. Feeling utterly mortified, she stammered back, "Oh. O-oh dear."

Emily turned around and walked back to her quickly, placing her hands on either of Winifred's arms, smiling with kindness in her eyes. "Do not fret. The gardens were lit and there were several others, no one considered it scandalous at all. Only, I know you more than anyone else and I could tell." Her smile upturned into a knowing, cheeky grin, "You liked him."

Winifred was sure her whole face was the veritable shade of a tomato, yet she couldn't help it. Now that Emily was aware, there was no stopping the bursting dam of words that flooded out of her mouth.