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chapter 3
“Master is cold-blooded.”
“Myrtle, if you’re going to cry while doing it, then give me that comb.”
Bryony reached out her hand, but Myrtle clearly had no intention of handing over the comb. Sighing, Bryony quietly sat back down in front of the mirror. Myrtle kept combing diligently, even as tears fell down her cheeks.
“My lady is cold-blooded too.”
“I’m sorry for that.”
“How can you be so calm about all this, my lady? Hic… sniff…”
Myrtle wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I’m sorry. I only said you were cold-blooded because I was upset. You’re the kindest person in the whole world.”
“You’ve only ever served me, haven’t you?”
“My world is only wherever my lady goes.”
Myrtle’s words were surprisingly thoughtful.
My world…
Bryony’s world was just as limited. Before marriage, there was the Arlington family. After marriage, the Ebony estate. Ebony lay only two hours by carriage from the kingdom’s capital, Fanshaw, which meant she could have led a dazzling social life, visiting noble houses or attending court teas where she might meet the Queen.
But Bryony had no interest in socializing with other nobles.
“Myrtle, if you could live anywhere, where would it be?”
“I like Ebony.”
Bryony felt the same.
The Arlingtons’ seat, in the coastal city of Shovary, was twelve hours on horseback from Fanshaw. Being far from the capital was bearable, but being surrounded only by wasteland and treacherous mountains was not.
Before her marriage, Bryony had been isolated in that wilderness. Her father, Sir Gideon Arlington, obsessed with title and status, strictly forbade her from mingling with others for fear his only daughter might be swept up by some rustic country bumpkin. The only “outside world” she had ever known was a short time at a boarding school for young ladies, as part of her bridal training.
When asked why they did not move to the envied Fanshaw, Gideon always dismissed it with, “I can’t take my eyes off the mines.” Bryony suspected, though never aloud, that it was less about business and more about his own inferiority complex.
So when she married into Ebony, she had been glad at last to escape that barren place.
“What do you like about Ebony?”
“There are forests, fields, lakes… and it’s close to Fanshaw.”
Then, perhaps realizing they might soon lose even that home, Myrtle’s eyes brimmed with tears again.
This chestnut-haired girl had followed Bryony from the Arlington estate. The youngest daughter of the local physician, she had been the most intelligent of her siblings, but intelligence was little use for a poor family’s youngest child.
That physician had delivered Bryony at birth. A few years later, Myrtle was born. While Myrtle’s elder sister worked as a maid at the Arlington household, she often carried baby Myrtle on her back as she tended to baby Bryony. The two had grown up almost like sisters, despite the employer-servant line between them.
“Then shall I buy a house here in Ebony and live in it?”
“My lady, are you in your right mind? Why would you stay in this estate?”
Just moments ago Myrtle had said she liked it here, but now she was aghast. For her, the thought of her mistress staying in Ebony meant continuing to see the cold-blooded Earl Dalmore, even after the humiliations he had inflicted.
“…Because I don’t want to go back to Shovary.”
When the combing was finished, Myrtle skillfully pinned up Bryony’s hair. Their eyes met in the mirror. Myrtle placed her hands on her mistress’s shoulders.
“Oh, my poor Miss Bryony.”
“Myrtle, stop crying now.”
Realizing she had slipped and called her mistress by her maiden name, Myrtle blushed.
“Why don’t you even shed a tear, my lady?”
Bryony gently laid her hand over Myrtle’s. She was neither that sad, nor close to tears, but she knew the young maid would never understand that.
“Crying won’t change anything.”
Myrtle’s careful grooming may have been worthwhile—or perhaps pointless—because Bryony soon encountered Keith while walking in the garden.
“…Keith.”
“…Bryony.”
It was an early January morning. Snow had fallen days before, freezing, thawing, and freezing again, leaving the paths unsuitable for strolling. But Bryony wanted to walk. She wished to take in every last corner of Ebony Heights before leaving.
The garden was bleak, though this was the season’s fault, not the garden’s. When she had first arrived, the place had been in poor condition. Cultivating the household’s grounds was expected of a countess, and Bryony had eagerly embraced the task. She had hired a skilled gardener, planted more trees, trimmed shrubs, paved paths, and lined them with flowers. Soon the garden of Ebony Heights became so renowned that even nobles from neighboring estates came to see it.
“It’s freezing out here…”
“Aren’t you going to Fanshaw today?”
They had spoken at the same time, then fallen silent. Keith answered first.
“I took a week’s leave.”
Keith worked as a clerk in the High Court, the kingdom’s most powerful judicial body, composed entirely of nobles. Even minor posts like clerks were barred to commoners. Diligent as he was, Keith disliked idling on estate income alone.
“I was just taking a walk.”
“If I disturbed you—”
As he began to withdraw, she stopped him with words.
“No. In fact, I wanted to ask your opinion.”
Perhaps taking it as an invitation to walk together, Keith offered his arm. Bryony hesitated a moment, then placed her hand on it. They began walking slowly.
“What is it you wanted to ask?”
“I want to give gifts to the servants.”
Before leaving Ebony Heights.
She left the second half unsaid.
She felt his arm stiffen under her hand. A moment later, he smoothed his expression.
“…How generous of you, Bryony.”
“But I don’t know what to give. How about fruit baskets?”
“That would make a fine gift.”
“But where will I find fruit in winter?”
“Dmitri will manage it.”
Thinking of the young butler Dmitri, Bryony felt she should give him something more special. He had helped her greatly since she first arrived three years ago, and he was closer to Keith than she herself was. A valuable gift would encourage him to continue serving Keith well.
“And perhaps… if possible, give the servants a day off.”
“A holiday?”
“Yes, after helping with the move, they’ll be exhausted…”
By “move,” of course, she meant packing her belongings and leaving Ebony Heights. The furniture was all the estate’s, but clothes, books, and bedding alone would fill at least three large wagons.
Keith nodded.
“So be it.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything else you need?”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
“…Will you return to the Arlingtons’?”
“I’ll travel.”
The word surprised even Bryony herself. Travel? Why had she said that? She had no such plans. For a young lady to wander with only one maid was something possible only in large cities.
Keith looked puzzled too.
“Travel? Where to?”
“…The southern coast.”
She covered hastily.
They had gone there only once before—on their honeymoon. Scattered exotic islands, each with unique scenery and customs, had left her quietly marveling the whole time. Quietly, because Keith’s face had remained so tense throughout. She had thought it was because, despite their wealth, he had married a plain baron’s daughter without charm or polish. Her initial excitement had quickly evaporated.
“In January, it’s hardly ideal.”
“Now that you mention it, yes.”
The path ended there. With no excuse left to walk beside him, Bryony turned quickly, only to bump into Keith. He caught her arm, but she had already lost her balance and leaned toward him.
Their bodies half-collided—her shoulder against his chest, her hand fumbling into his coat as she tried desperately not to fall.
By the time she regained balance, the air between them had grown even more awkward.
Keith, however, was restless for another reason.
That very morning he had received a letter from Sir Gideon Arlington. The hastily written words, sent by express mail, were clumsy and verbose, but the gist was clear: he wanted the dowry returned in full.
[Excerpt from Sir Gideon’s Letter]
Bryony is my only daughter, and for the three years she has been honored to serve as Lady Ebony, I am deeply grateful for your grace.
…Yet when I gave her in marriage, it was with a father’s resolve to sacrifice even a lifetime apart if it meant her happiness, and so I sent her with a dowry that amounted to most of my fortune.
But the marriage I had hoped would last her life has been dissolved after but three years. Shameless as it may be, I beg you to grant my poor Bryony the full dowry back as alimony. I pray from my heart that Lord Ebony’s future may be touched by a lady far nobler and more beautiful than my lacking daughter.
Thanks to Dmitri’s skillful investments, Bryony’s dowry had actually grown since she first came to Ebony. Even if Keith had to return it all, he did not mind.
What bothered him was that Gideon’s only word of concern for his daughter was “poor,” while the rest was money and flattery.
Keith felt he should show the letter to Bryony, since it concerned her. Spotting her in the garden, he had rushed out.
But then she began speaking of gifts and holidays for the servants, and he missed the moment. How could he interrupt with “Your father wants the dowry back” when she was being so generous? And when she said she would travel instead of returning to Arlington—perhaps sensing he did not wish to send her back there—he had been struck speechless.
And she had even chosen their honeymoon destination.
That honeymoon had been arranged by Dmitri, who had quickly gathered society gossip to pick the most praised location. He had booked a private boat (with Bryony’s dowry), and two suites at an exclusive inn (again, with her dowry). But then Aunt Lucinda had poured cold water on it.
“Keith, don’t you remember? You had terrible seasickness. Why, at six years old you even vomited on my muslin dress on a pleasure boat!”
“This is news to me.”
“Of course you don’t remember, you were so young. And after my cousin ruined the Dalmore fortunes, your family couldn’t afford spring boat trips. But that dress still bears the stain.”
Lucinda never invented lies—though she had no sense of when to hold her tongue. Half-believing her, Keith rented a boat (with Bryony’s dowry) and tried it on a lake outside Fanshaw. Even the tiniest ripples on the water made his stomach churn.
“Shall we change the honeymoon spot?”
“Mistress Arlington said she had never been south.”
“There are plenty of fine places elsewhere.”
But all the finest destinations were near lakes, rivers, or the sea, with romantic sunset boat rides as their highlight.
“It can’t be helped then. Just… don’t vomit on her gown.”
“Find me medicine.”
“It won’t work well if seasickness is in your nature. And remember, that medicine will also be bought with her dowry.”
Still, Dmitri brought the medicine. Thanks to it, Keith at least avoided soiling Bryony’s new white muslin dress. But he spent the entire trip gripping the boat’s rail, pale and dizzy.
How could he admit such weakness, when the whole journey was paid for by her money? Pride kept him silent.
Bryony must not have enjoyed it either—because of me. That must be why she suggests going there again now, of all seasons.
Then, suddenly, she had turned as though to end their walk—or to avoid him—and stumbled into his arms.
The memory of the honeymoon, the letter from Gideon, the soft curl fallen from her neatly pinned hair—everything vanished from Keith’s mind in that moment.
“I’m sorry, my foot slipped.”
She apologized calmly, while he still reeled. Flustered, he pulled from his inner pocket the letter she had nearly touched when fumbling at his coat.
“Sir Gideon Arlington sent a letter…”
“From Father?”
Bryony slowly accepted it. Her cheeks looked flushed, but Keith thought it must be the pale winter sunlight just then brightening the garden. For when she began to read, the glow vanished at once.
Not once—not at the first dance he asked of her, not at his proposal, not even when he carried her over the threshold of Ebony Heights—had his wife ever blushed before him.
