Without the need to plan any events, Lenore's life goes from chaotic to dull in the span of a single night. Mary arrives at her usual time—the time when Lenore used to get up in Rowanhart to help with chores like embroidery, which Alina hates to do herself—but Lenore sends her away. She's too tired for breakfast after the rush of arriving in Barrowmere, then getting married. Mary leaves—surprised, but not concerned.
After all, the past weeks have been draining for both of them.
Lenore keeps the glass doors to her balcony covered by the dark drapes, keeping the faint daylight of Barrowmere away. She wants nothing more than to sink back into the comfort of sleep, cradled by dreams. However, her heart isn't at peace, and sleep eludes her.
While the memories of Alaric's kiss linger on her lips too long for the bride of a loveless marriage to think about, that isn't the issue making her sit up in her canopy bed, leaving its warm safety. She pulls on a robe that hangs on the post of her bed—ready for use at a moment's notice—and ties it over her nightgown as she takes a seat at the small table in her chambers.
The paper and quill wait patiently, ready to put her thoughts and feelings into words. Writing a letter to her parents was a request she made. Willingly. Now, with the tools she needs to actually sit and write a letter that will make it to her parents, she has no idea what to say. She also doesn't know if her parents will want to hear from her.
What if her uncle was telling the truth when he said they sent her away? When he told her that they never responded to her letters?
She takes the quill in her hand, brushing its feather against the skin of her opposite arm. Vague memories float to the front of her mind. Images of her brother and sister. The sounds of footsteps and laughter echoing in halls as they chased each other with feathers. Do they think about those times with fondness, too? Evander and Vella... What are they doing now?
Dipping her quill in the ink, she finally brings it to the top piece of parchment, willing her hand to write. Something. Anything. But she hesitates for so long that a splotch of ink forms instead of words, forcing her to crumple the paper and put it to the side. How is she even supposed to start the letter? Formally? Casually? It can't be too informal, just in case. Maybe a simple letter about her recent move and marriage is enough. A way to open a path for communication, if they want one.
If they don't... Well, her uncle already prepared her heart for that rejection.
The stack of crumpled paper grows as she tries to start a letter, reconsiders her words, then reaches for a new sheet.
Dear Father,
She crumples it.
Viscount,
No, that won't work either. In the end, she settles with:
To my family,
Unfortunately, the rest of the letter is as difficult to write as the greeting. There's so much she wants to ask her parents, but she doesn't have the confidence that they'll want to listen to her questions. She'll keep the letter simple.
If you haven't heard, I'm now a duchess. I've married the Duke of Barrowmere.
The words feel unfamiliar, even in writing. She's the duchess of a cursed land, and married to a duke who will outlive her the same way he's outlived his previous wives. Eventually, he'll be asked to marry another new bride, and her memory will be forgotten in the marble hallways of the manor, flitting away like a gentle breeze. It would be selfish of her to wish that she could occupy a space in his thoughts.
The Duke is kind to me. I hope that you're all doing well, too.
She pauses again. After all the time she spent being quiet in her uncle's estate, she struggles to find her words.
I would like to apologize if I did something wrong or offended you in some way. So, if it's possible, please talk to me again. A single letter would be enough.
Lenore Barrowmere
It's not how she imagined her letter to her family would look, but she finds that it says what she wants to say—what she can say without giving away too much of her heart. That way the rejection won't hurt as much.
Since she can't find an envelope, she pulls the braided cord attached to her bed, and it doesn't take long for Eva to arrive with a polite bow.
"I'd like to send a letter to Viscount Edric Rowanhart." She hands the paper to Eva, its ink still drying.
Eva takes the paper. "Not to Duke Rowanhart?"
"No," Lenore says. "I'd like to send it to my father, the Viscount, instead."
"Understood, Madam. Would you like me to send Mary here to help you get ready for the day in the meantime?"
"Is she busy?"
"She's been learning about the estate so she can help you find your way around, but it's not your duty to worry about inconveniencing servants," Eva says. "If I may be so bold, a duchess should be more selfish, my lady."
The shadow of a smile graces Lenore's face. "Yes, I'll learn to be a better duchess. Someone the Duke can rely on. Please let Mary know that I'd like to get dressed and have a meal."
Eva accepts her orders with grace and takes her leave, while Lenore wonders what makes a woman into a great duchess.
She tries to think about her aunt, Duchess Rowanhart, but she spends so much time at a villa instead of at the main estate in the duchy, she rarely saw her aunt. Besides, she's not an example Lenore wants to follow—not if she has supported Claude's decisions over the years. At best, she turned a blind eye to Lenore's treatment. At worst, she helped facilitate it.
No, she needs to learn how to be a duchess on her own. For that, she needs information.
So, when Mary arrives and helps her prepare for the day, Lenore says, "After my meal, I'll be going to the library."
She has plenty of time with the limited duties given to her, and she'll use that time to learn.
Alaric will not regret giving her a new home.