Dangerous Recollections

Chapter Four

Lyra had been filled with utter melancholy in the following weeks. Her heart would stutter each time the parcel came and every time she flipped through the envelopes she would shake with fear at stumbling upon a purple wrapping. She trembled when walking by windows, frightful of the person who could be peering from outside. A ubiquitous face that would blend into a mundane crowd, or a familiar friend lurking in envy, hatred, deceit.

Lyra had visited Vivienne once, the female about ready to burst, but otherwise remained a recluse in her home.

William hadn't visited either, but he haunted her nights. Nothing satiated her burning desire to have him to herself. She couldn't help the yearning that gnawed at her core every waking moment and simmering night. Lyra was entirely sure if he came to her under the moon, she would welcome her in her bed.

She wouldn't mind being a hidden mistress. After all, when she had been a lowly servant she had been his mistress. To be one to him again, to a Duke, was not a bad comparison. Additionally, she already been his secret. The choice to be his wouldn't be the least logical of decisions she had Lyra couldn't stop herself from clenching with desire as she sat by the fireplace in her already too-warm room. She twirled her black locks around her finger before reading the latest letter.

E.G.W

His initials, right? They had to be, but who would sign a letter such as these with their real initials? E.G.W. What could this mean? Was it a taunt? Was it a sign of his confidence in his anonymity?

Tapping the corner of the envelope against her chin, Lyra leaned back. Should she ask William for assistance? Lyra had no idea who could have ever written these, she was completely helpless. Lyra was at a complete dead end, the writer never revealed anything about themselves. The only think Lyra could gather was the seemingly eerie obsession they possessed for Lyra and some delusional sense of love. Lyra was no fool, she knew the dangers of this delusional relationship the individual believes they have.

But what could she do? She did not want to bring down the Dalton name, the Walcott name, the name of Vivienne and her household, the name of every whom she had grown a companionship to. The dangerous thing about being a woman possessing a rouse such as this is the effects it may have on those around her.

The cliff may give way under her feet, but the rubble would crush all those who had supported her in the first place.

Lyra had to go about life, hoping the anonymous writer would get bored and leave or until an untimely end. She had no choice; she would rather crash singularly than burn those around her.

Spring had bloomed in full force across the grounds of Martine. William stood in the library, reading a letter from one Lord Archer Ambrose. Archer was a childhood friend of William. The sole heir of not just his father's fortune, but his uncle and cousin's as well. The man had more money than he could ever spend. What was truly unique of his friend was his mind.

Archer's brain was like nothing William had ever experienced. He had the ability to recall things he had read nearly a decade ago. He was very perceptive and noticed the smallest of details.

As a result, his friend decided to use his talents to help people solve what mystery appeared. He was seemingly detached in most situations. He lacked a certain understanding of specific humors which left him appearing irritable more often than not. Despite keeping a cold exterior William knew that injustice troubled him deeply.

If anyone could be trusted with discretion to solve this, it was Archer. So William enlisted his help in finding the author of Lyra's letters. So far Archer had discovered the company that produced the envelopes. "There are two interesting things about this information," He had informed Will. "First, the company was located in the Americas and second, it has only been operational in the last decade." Archer was delving deeper into that said information.