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Her father dragged her by her hair inside the house, up the stairs, and into the late marchioness’s room.
“You will stay here,” he sneered at her. “Until I nail those balcony doors of yours shut!” He turned to leave the room, pausing at the threshold. “Then, I want you to pack your bags properly. I am going to marry you off to someone as quickly as possible.”
Julie couldn’t even gather a gasp of air to respond before he left the room and shut the door with a loud thump. A minute later, she was aware of two footmen being stationed outside the door. She knew that the marquess himself slept in the next room, adjoined by the dressing room. She was trapped. Julie looked around silently, her gaze falling to the bed. She shook her head from the assailing memories. She was indeed trapped in the most horrifying room of the house.
* * *
Contrary to the marquess’s threats of leaving for London immediately, Julie stayed in the marchioness’s room for the next three days. She was afraid to breathe or make any extra noise, not daring to draw any attention to herself. She prayed he would forget about her and start acting as if she didn’t exist, as he had before. She studied the room carefully for exits, but there were none. There wasn’t even a balcony. Both the windows led to a twelve-foot drop directly into the willowy bushes.
The housekeeper brought her food, but otherwise, no one spoke to her. Everyone else was prohibited from entering her room, or cell was more like it. The footmen changed guard every few hours, but two were always stationed outside her door. The valise Julie tried to escape with was not given back to her, so she didn’t even have her journal to pass the time. She wasn’t allowed books or any other entertainment or occupation.
Julie was sure she would slowly lose her mind. The imprisonment itself might not have much impact, besides skull-numbing boredom, butwhereshe was imprisoned played tricks with her conscious mind. The nights were the worst. She could practically hear her mother’s screams; see all that blood again, her ashen, fear-stricken face. She couldn’t possibly sleep in that bed.
Instead, she dragged the coverlet over and slept on the floor by the bed, facing the door for the few meager hours she managed to sleep. Mostly she sat curled up on the floor, singing to herself, like she used to sing to Mary when her little sister was distressed. She cried herself to sleep every night, praying for angels to save her, for John to find a way to break her free, for her father to forget her existence.
No angels seemed to be interested in her plight, however. Three days after her imprisonment, she was sent back to her room. Her bags had been packed, and all her belongings were missing from the drawers. She frantically searched for the letters John had sent her throughout his Eton years, but she only found one charred corner of a letter by the hearth.
Norfolk had burned them all.How dare he?She took the charred piece of paper and stared at it for a long while until it blurred in front of her eyes, and tears started falling on her hands.
She was still sitting, crying by the hearth, when she heard a soft knock on the French doors leading to the balcony.
Julie spun and saw John. For a moment, she couldn’t believe her eyes. She froze, thinking she was hallucinating. But he knocked again and smiled sadly. Julie leaped from her seat and nearly crashed through the balcony doors. Only they were nailed shut.
“John,” she whispered, frantically touching the glass doors.
John put his fingers against the frosty glass where she was touching them on the other side.
“John,” she repeated with a shaking voice, “I thought I’d never see you again.”
John lowered his head as if in guilt. Worry creased her forehead, and she stepped even closer to the doors.
“What is it?” She shoved the words past the growing lump in her throat.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“What?” Her voice grew frantic. “Where?”
“The army.” A pause. “Your father—he helped buy me a commission.”
“He is sending you to the army. Because of me?”
“Julie—” John closed his eyes in agony. “I wish there were something I could do. But my father regards this as a gift from heaven. Many dream of buying a commission to the queen’s army.”
“But not you.” A lone tear streaked down her face. “Please, not you.” Her last plea was almost inaudible.
He looked at her, his eyes glinting with unshed tears.
She stared back, tears falling down her cheeks. “He’s going to marry me to someone else,” she said.
“He can’t force you,” his voice cracked.
“Like he can’t force you?” She laughed bitterly. Then she sobered and shook her head, taking a step back from the doors. “Come back to me,” she pleaded. “Come back safe, so we can be together again.”
“I will,” he vowed. “Maybe in a year or two, but I’ll come back. Promise, you will wait for me?”As if he even had to ask.
“I promise.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and lowered her forehead to the door. John mirrored the action. They stood like that for a long while, praying to see each other again. Praying to be together again.
“I promise.” The words echoed between them.
