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So many emotions flowed through her veins. If Wesley had been found, this would not be the way they told her. He’d been pulled away on their wedding night before they had a chance to share a bed. To consummate their marriage. It was a technicality her mother and sister used to insist that she wasn’t really married. That she should have participated in the latest Season.
“What does it say?” Margaret clasped her hands together.
“Dear Miss Phillipa Willoughby—” The Queen did not refer to her as the Duchess of Chelmsford. That wasn’t a good sign. Her voice trailed off, her heart sinking into her stomach as she read the rest.
She blinked rapidly, hoping it would change the words on the parchment. Make them mean something else.
“What does the Queen say?” Mother asked as she approached. “Is it news about Wesley?” It was the softest her voice had sounded in months.
Phillipa shook her head; oh, how she wished she could say yes. Even if it was bad news. Closure would have been better than this message from Her Majesty.
Bernadette snatched the letter from her.
Her sister’s eyes widened as she read the letter, and she cleared her throat before reading. “Dear Miss Phillipa Willoughby, on account of your preference for plants and stones over people, your unconsummated marriage, and your complete withdrawal from society, Her Majesty has deemed your Season a failure.”
“What Season? I’m married,” Phillipa cried. “I already have a husband.”
“Your marriage is incomplete in the Crown’s eyes,” Mother said. “It’s been a year, Phillipa. He’s not coming back. If his family wants to retain the fantasy that he’s still alive, they are welcome to do so. But the longer you agree with them, the more complicated things will become for you. I again urge you to consider an annulment.”
Phillipa shuddered. If she refused the annulment again, it would most definitely be followed by a threat to admit her to the Royal Hospital.
She wasn’t crazy. Just heartbroken and hopeful.
“That’s not all,” Bernadette continued. “It says, ‘Considering your utter defiance for all proposals, you are hereby ordered to attend The Monsters Ball.’”
Phillipa and her mother gasped in unison. It was the first time they had agreed on anything in far too long. It was on the tip of Phillipa’s tongue to protest, to remind them of poor Wesley one more time, but she knew it would not help.
“You cannot go to that ball,” Mother rose from her seat. She began pacing the parlor. “You’ll be ruined. Ruined!”
“The Queen has ordered Phillipa to attend.” Bernadette gave her sister a smug smile. “She cannot defy Her Majesty.”
Her younger sister was enjoying this far too much. She’d always been in a one-sided competition with Phillipa. Not sharing a Season with Bernadette had been a relief.
She needed answers about what happened to Wesley. Her own family had been no help, only encouraging her to move on. His family had not provided much information, either.
They simply had told her that they hadn’t heard from him since he’d disappeared that night.
But no one had confirmed he was dead. There had been no services to mourn him. No answers to Phillipa’s questions. Only that they were very concerned, and they would let her know if there was any word. For a few days, she’d stayed in the house they were meant to share for the rest of their lives, but without Wesley, the house was overwhelming, and she was not prepared to receive the visitors who wanted to offer their condolences on his disappearance.
Again, she would send a letter to his family, requesting an update. This time she would stress the urgency of the matter. But for the first time since Wesley’s disappearance, she had a sense of purpose.
Phillipa tipped her chin up. “If Her Majesty wants me at the Monsters Ball, then I will be in attendance.”
“You can’t—” Mother cried.
“Phillipa!” Margaret pleaded. “Think about what you’re saying.”
She slipped the letter carefully into her pocket, ignoring the protests. She needed air. She needed peace from the only place that had granted it to her since Wesley’s disappearance.
Her garden.
Once she reached her outdoor haven, she sank to her knees, relishing the cool feeling as the damp earth seeped into her dress. Margaret would lovingly scold her when she came back to the house dirty, but Mother and Bernadette wouldn’t be so kind about her soiled dress or the dirt that would inevitably lodge itself under her fingernails. Emotion rushed through her, but she wouldn’t cry. Weakness was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
Acanthus and Delphiniums bloomed around her, but even their beauty couldn’t hide her concern. Her brow furrowed as she studied the rock formation that had been carefully laid at the edge of the path. Common smooth stones, topaz, and tourmaline had become their own language, and a message delivery system even more powerful than the letter in her pocket from the Queen herself.
Fae lived in the woods that bordered the garden. Fae who had become dear friends of hers. They’d sat with her while she’d cried under the trees they called home, and taught her everything she knew about gardening and the beautiful stones they used as currency and medicine.
And they’d been under attack by a ruthless wolven that had declared himself king of the forest. Phillipa felt so helpless every time she heard the news of another attack and had daydreamed many times of confronting this wolven, to make him pay for his heartlessness.
