stem of hearts

First Letter

CAMILLE

My head ached as I stared at the stationary in front of me, sighing heavily. Writing was hard. I had never learned script or anything fancy, so my penmanship was like that of a toddler compared to the duke's. I had brought his letter with me. Something about it made my heart feel like it was bouncing around in my chest, but not in a bad way. I liked to look at it. His handwriting was beautiful.

I picked up the pen with a sigh, dipping it in the inkwell that Priscilla had provided.

Edward,

Ugh. My wrist already ached. The pen felt heavy in my hands. I couldn't tell if it was from exhaustion or plain weakness. I didn't think I had weak hands- I spent the majority of my life working in strawberry fields and taking care of sheep, after all. That took just a little bit of strength.

I powered through, determined to write at least a paragraph before I gave up. My family deserved that much from me.

I picked up from where I had left off, so I didn't really have a lot to build from.

I've been at the manor for, what, three days? My mind keeps going back to you and Emma. Is she well? You've been doing everything I told you to, right? Has Deirdre stopped by? I don't think we ever really told her I was leaving. If you ever need help, you should ask her. She's very kind. I bet you'd like her better now that you're older, anyways.

Edward had never been Deirdre's biggest fan.

I didn't get that, really- she was a kind lady. I wasn't incredibly sure, but I had heard that she was with child. Her husband was a nice man. A baker.

You'd better be keeping up with all the housework. If you aren't, I'll have to come back there and make sure you do your job. I know you don't want that.

I drew a sad little smile after that. I didn't know what else to write. I didn't even know what I'd wanted to say in the first place. I just wanted Edward to know that I was still around. That I still cared for them.

I'm well. The earl and I haven't spoken much, but we dined together. He's handsome. I think I could come to like it here if I really wanted to.

I have a lady who cares for me; her name is Priscilla. I think Emma might like her. We'll have to make sure they meet soon.

You'd like Damien. He's the butler. He's sweet. He reminds me of Maman. I think he cares a lot for the earl, and I think the earl cares a lot for him. Earl van Cortlandt seems like he could be sweet, but he hasn't really been seeking me out. I don't think I did anything to upset him, but no matter. I'll figure it out. Perhaps Damien might know.

I sniffled, taking a moment to breathe.

Gods, if I had known that writing a letter was going to make me sad, I never would've done it. It hurt my wrist, too. And the ink smudged lightly on my hand as I wrote, since I was left handed and my hand rested where I'd just written.

Tell Emma I said hello. I love you both very much.

Yours,

Camille

. . .

After writing that letter, I sat in silence for quite a while. I wasn't tired, but I felt emotionally drained. I wasn't strong enough for all of this. It wasn't me.

Once I'd sulked for a little bit longer than felt necessary, I got up.

I peered down the hallway, lingering in the doorway of my room for longer than I would've liked to admit.

Whenever I thought about roaming the halls at night, I instantly felt like I'd stumble upon something menacing. I had no idea what the duke was into. How would I know if he, for some reason, was into killing people? That wasn't my business, I supposed, but still. It'd certainly be off-putting should I find it to be true.

I sighed weakly. My skin ached for fresh air.

Yes, I went out on the balcony every night.

Yes, the balcony was technically outside and so it was technically fresh air.

But I wanted plants.

I wanted roses, and flowers, and I wanted to feel the petals of a lily tickle my nose when I undoubtedly decided to smell the soft fragrance.

I sighed, making my decision.

I started down the hall, looking around as I tried to navigate toward the stairs. I'd hardly left my room for anything but meals, so I didn't really know my way around. I glanced around the dark corridors, my flats tapping faintly on the hardwood floors. I shifted so I was on the carpet. It felt less dangerous.

While my gaze was focused on the floor, I walked into something- and not walked into something as in I bumped against it. No, I slammed into something. I hadn't even seen it, since I'd been so busy glancing around.

I stepped back, startled. My eyes met the earl's, and I was instantly just a bit more embarrassed than I would've been otherwise. I looked away quickly.

He cleared his throat weakly, silent for a moment as he brushed off his shirt. "Are you alright?" The tips of his ears had a peachy hue. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, and the shift covered his ears.

I had to admit, I wasn't expecting him to even ask. He hadn't spoken to me yet, after all.

"Yeah. Thank you." I said quietly. The hallway was dark. I could hear the crickets outside.

He was quiet for a few moments again. "I'm surprised you aren't in your room. It's late." He sighed. I watched his face. The moonlight made his pallid complexion glow faintly. His under eyes were dark. I didn't comment on it, but he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Perhaps he was upset about something? His expression was... dismal, to say the least.

"I couldn't sleep." I looked out the window. "You?" I glanced back at him.

He nodded slightly, expression unchanged. "Me neither."

The two of us stood in the silence again. I thought it was vaguely comforting. He wasn't so scary now. He still searched my expression. I felt myself dying inside, helplessly wondering what he wanted. Did he want an explanation?

"I wanted to go to the garden." I said hesitantly.

His response was delayed by a moment. "I could show you the way." He offered. Every single thing he did made me nervous. I just could not figure him out.

"That'd be nice." I forced a smile, deciding that I didn't care how weak it may be. It was the least I could do to try and cheer him up when he looked so down.

He offered his hand to me.

I picked up on his hesitance when I, myself, waited a few long moments to accept the gesture. Would my hesitance upset him?

When our hands touched, I could feel my face heat up.

The earl's hands were slender and soft, like that of a musician. They were larger than mine, but that was a given. His skin was smooth, gentle. I had to force down the thoughts that burned in my mind.

I knew that I didn't have a whole lot to compare it to, given that I hadn't really held hands with anyone but my mother or Emma before- Still, though.

I couldn't recall the last time I'd met a man with soft hands.