Chapter One
Icy flakes of snow swirled down from the cloud-filled sky outside the window. This year’s first snowfall was vicious, not gentle - it whispered of harder times to come, and it made everyone shiver, even the castle’s hardy groundskeeper and caretaker, Bruce.
You drew your cloak tightly around you, and trudged through the snow to meet him. He was busy stacking logs for the fire now, but in the summer months you often visited him when he walked the length of the vineyard, picking grapes from the bountiful vines. You liked to help him sort them into baskets and take them to the brewery to be fermented into wine.
Bruce caught sight of you, shaking his head. “My lady, you should not be outside in this weather. It is much too cold.”
“It is you who needs to be inside. Surely you have enough logs?” You said, eyeing the large stack he had already cut, almost toppling over from the weight.
Bruce gave you a look. “You can never have too many. I prefer the company out here than inside.”
He pointedly looked around at the surrounding hills and fields, the castle a mere shadow in the background. The courtyard was to his right, but no one was there now.
You knew what he meant. Inside, he would be forced to deal with so many people - your uncle, the Lord Pym, was busy getting ready to depart the castle with his daughter, Hope. There were many preparations taking place, and you were eager to stay out of the way.
“When will they leave?” Bruce asked, and you didn’t miss the anticipation in his voice.
You shrugged. “If this snow keeps up, they will not be able to leave after tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t.”
You chuckled. “So, you do not take fondly to Lord Pym.”
Bruce shook his head. “I don’t mind him. It’s that rake that his daughter likes, Sir Lang.”
You barely ever heard him speak so callously about another person. “Oh?”
“I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn.” Bruce said, going red as he loaded more logs onto his stack.
You shrugged. “Maybe, but I don’t care. Lord Pym will most likely marry Hope off to someone else. Someone with more connections, more money.”
“Who?”
“Sir Barton.” You guessed, folding your hands into your skirts to keep them warm. “They spend a lot of time together, Lord Pym and he.”
Bruce looked at you, arching an eyebrow. “Perhaps they ought to get married, then.”
You laughed. “Perhaps.”
“Lady Y/N!”
You heard your name echo across the yard, through the thick snowfall. Heaving a shuddering sigh, you turned. It was your handmaiden, Wanda.
“I’d better go. Please, don’t stay out long.”
Bruce smiled at you. “I wanted to ask...might you join me, for tea, later? Around noon?”
You smiled back. “Of course. Until then.”
*
Wanda ushered you inside, brushing the snow from your cloak and hanging it up to dry. If she was annoyed at you ruining your hair by being outside, she didn’t say anything, but that was her character. Difficult to read.
“It is high time for lunch, my lady.” She said, her eyes fixed on your forehead as she altered your hair, fixing pins, and brushing out the unruly curls.
“It’s a bit early, don’t you think?”
Wanda shook her head. “They were having an early luncheon before departing, and your uncle wishes you would join them. And Sir Lang, he wishes to speak with you. Privately.”
You sighed. What would it be about this time? You considered him a friend, but he was too reliant on you and your counsel.
“Very well.”
You nodded, thanking her and making your way to the main hall. If you weren’t there, you doubted Hope would mind, but your uncle was different. He had a terrible temper, which was why you wondered how he had allowed Sir Lang much more time in his halls.
Suddenly, a hand seized your arm, dragging you into an alcove. It was dark, and you tried to fight back, but relaxed when you saw who it was.
“Scott!” You scolded. He shushed you.
“I’m not supposed to be here.” He whispered. “Keep your voice down.”
You sighed, again. “Then why are you here? You know that Pym will skin you alive if he sees you within an inch of Hope.”
He shook his head, and you could see the stress on his face in the dark. “I’m not here to see Hope.”
You frowned. “Then what?”
Scott looked at you, and realisation dawned. You drew him from the alcove and down a small corridor that led to your father’s old study, knowing the passageways well. The study was still dusty, and the books untouched, but you were the only one that knew the secret way in. You pushed against the hidden door and entered the room, hearing Scott cough slightly behind you.
“I thought we’d be able to speak more privately here.” You said, shutting the door behind you, hoping it wouldn’t stick in place.
Scott opened his mouth to talk, but you stopped him with a hand. “You need to stop this. Coming here.”
“I know the risks, Y/N.” He said, and you swore you could see a small smile work its way onto his features. “But, the truth is…”
Dread squirmed in the pit of your stomach. “What?”
“I’m going to ask Hope to marry me.”
You stood where you were, frozen in place. For a moment you were unable to speak, so he filled the silence.
“We’ve talked about it for a while, running away...to a farm, or to my parents. Just for a while, before we get settled, and then we could -”
“Don’t.” You said, sharply, snapping back into reality. “Don’t labour under these delusions. He will never allow this marriage.”
Scott knew who you were talking about. “Yeah, well, that was why we were thinking of eloping.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation. He couldn’t be serious, and you told him so.
“I’m completely serious! Hope and I want to marry. If this is how we have to do it, then so be it.”
“Hope’s his only daughter! Don’t you see that? She’s the apple of his eye, even if he doesn’t always show it. You’ve already been married, and you have a daughter. When he finds out that you’ve stolen her away-”
“I’m not going to steal her away!”
“-he’ll kill you. Discreetly, so that no one knows about it. And then he’ll lock her away forever. You’d be condemning her, as well. Don’t you realise?”
He stopped. It seemed that any mention of Hope’s potential misery would halt him in his tracks, so you continued.
“If you truly love her, then don’t resign her to this fate.” Scott stared at his feet, defeatedly. He was silent, and you began to regret the way you had spoken to him before. All he wanted was their happiness, any fool could see that.
“I wish it was different.”
He had broken the silence, but the tone of his voice almost broke your heart.
“I know.” You said. “So do I.”
*
You ate your lunch in the main hall silently, unable to stop thinking about Scott and Hope. Across the table, she was equally as miserable, and barely ate anything. Glancing at your uncle, you realised it was him. He was only furthering the rift between himself and his daughter, and he didn’t even know it.
Once lunch was over, and the servants were busy readying the carriage to take them away to Lord Barton, and his son, the objective of Lord Pym, you spoke briefly with Hope. Her eyes were downcast as her handmaiden secured her hair and travelling clothes, ensuring that she was warm enough multiple times before Hope dismissed her.
She was pretty, prettier than you, with her dark hair and sharp eyes, but at this moment she appeared as if all the world was out for her.
“You spoke with Scott.” She said, stating it as a fact, rather than a question. You nodded in answer, waiting for her outburst. But it never came.
“He told you of our plans?”
“Yes.” You swallowed. “And I’m sorry, Hope, but I had to bring him to reason.”
You heard her dejected sigh. “It’s just as well that you did. It never would have worked anyway.”
You felt slightly offended on Scott’s part at her instant resignation. “You don’t know that.”
“What, do you think he would have whisked me away before the carriage departed without my father noticing?” She laughed bitterly. “I know this trip will end in only one thing.”
Betrothal. Her and Sir Barton.
What an unhappy fate.
Your gaze was worried, as you tried to console her. “Well...he is rich, Sir Barton. And rich folk only want more money. If you bribe him enough, he might let you run away with Scott.”
Hope’s laugh was less bitter than before, and she rose from where she sat by the fire, embracing you.
“I will miss you, and your ridiculous jokes, Y/N.”
It was more appreciation than you would usually get from her in a month, and you embraced her back, hearing Scott’s words in the back of your mind.
I wish it was different.