The ride home was quiet, too quiet. Mr. Darcy said nothing as he steered the carriage through the winding streets of Maistown, and I was grateful for the silence. My hands lay folded in my lap, but I could still smell him. His scent clung to my skin like a memory refusing to let go. A mix of cedarwood, something crisp and warm. Every time I shifted, it rose again, stirring emotions I wasn't ready to face.
I kept my gaze fixed on the scenery passing by, though none of it truly registered. The world outside blurred into shades of grey and gold, but all I could focus on was the weight of the locket resting against my chest. I hadn't dared to open it while in the garden, and certainly not while Mr. Darcy was watching. It felt too intimate, too personal, like a piece of my soul had been trapped inside it. Yet now, in the hush of the moving carriage, curiosity whispered louder than fear.
I slowly unclasped the delicate chain and let the locket fall into my palm. My fingers trembled as I pressed it open. The tiny hinge creaked softly, revealing two photographs tucked inside, faded, but unmistakable. One was of a young girl, maybe seven or eight years old, her bright eyes brimming with laughter. The other was of a boy, equally young, with a mop of dark hair falling into eyes I couldn't stop staring at.
My breath caught.
It was me. And him.
Charles.
The recognition hit me like a wave crashing against stone. And with it came the blur. My head throbbed as fractured images began flashing before my eyes, sunlight streaming through green leaves, laughter echoing in a garden, the flash of a red ball rolling across the grass, and two children chasing each other with boundless joy. I could hear a voice. His voice. Calling my name.
Melody.
But the memories came like broken glass, sharp, fragmented, impossible to hold. The harder I tried to grasp them, the quicker they slipped away.
I blinked hard, fighting to keep the images from fading. But they were already dissolving, leaving behind a strange ache in my chest. I snapped the locket shut and clutched it tightly in my fist, as if by doing so I could tether myself to that sliver of truth.
When we finally pulled into the estate, the sun was dipping low, casting the grounds in golden light that felt too soft, too deceptive. Mr. Darcy climbed down and opened the carriage door with his usual stoicism, but I noticed how his eyes lingered a moment longer on me than they usually did.
I stepped out slowly, every sound around me muffled by the roaring in my ears. The estate looked the same, but it no longer felt familiar. Something inside me had shifted. I didn't know what exactly, only that I wasn't the same girl who had left earlier.
As we approached the steps, I caught Mr. Darcy glancing at me again, quickly, like he was trying not to be noticed. There was a tension in his posture, a stiffness I hadn't seen before. His silence didn't feel like loyalty anymore. It felt like concealment.
"You've been awfully quiet today, Mr. Darcy," I said, trying to sound casual.
He gave a slight bow. "Just making sure you're safe, Miss Melody. As always."
Safe. That word tasted wrong.
I thought of how perfectly timed his arrival at the garden had been. How did he know where to find me? I never gave him specifics, never even told Mother where I was going. Yet there he was, right on cue.
No. Something about Mr. Darcy didn't sit right with me anymore.
I nodded and walked ahead, letting the cool evening air brush against my face. I needed space, from him, from the house, from the truth slowly unraveling inside me.
Inside the estate, the silence continued. The marble floors echoed beneath my feet. I passed the grand mirror in the hallway and paused. My reflection met my gaze, but I didn't recognize her. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes too wide. There was something new in my expression, serenity.
It scared me.
I hadn't felt peace in years. Not true peace. And now, after a single afternoon with him, it had crept into my bones like warmth returning to frozen limbs.
And I wasn't the only one who noticed.
My mother stood at the top of the staircase, arms folded like a statue carved from ice. Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. I quickly looked away, but it was too late.
"You're back earlier than expected," she said as she descended slowly, her heels ticking against the marble like a clock counting down.
"I only needed a short walk," I replied, keeping my voice soft. "The air helped."
She stopped two steps above me, her gaze sharp. "You seem... different."
"I feel better," I said. "Lighter."
She tilted her head slightly. "Interesting."
The silence between us buzzed with tension. She studied me, and I knew she saw something she couldn't name, something that unsettled her. My fingers instinctively curled around the locket in my pocket.
Her gaze dipped toward my hand.
I hadn't realized I was still holding it.
"It's nothing," I said quickly, trying to slip it into the folds of my dress.
Just then, Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. "Ma'am, we have important matters to review."
He was buying me time.
My mother turned to him, distracted. I seized the moment and pushed the locket deep into my pocket.
"Mother, I'll be in my chambers if you need me," I said, turning toward the stairs. "And please, send Nanny Chopper to me."
She didn't stop me. Not yet.
Once inside my room, I locked the door, twice. I shut the window tight and drew the curtains until not even a sliver of light could creep in.
Only then did I let myself fall on the bed, face down, breathless.
My fingers found the locket again. I held it tightly against my chest, and in that dark cocoon of silence, I smiled. Really smiled.
Not the practiced, polite one I wore like armor, but the real kind. Like a child with a secret. Like a girl who had found her heart again.
I lay there on my belly, legs swinging in the air like a schoolgirl, the scent of him still clinging to my hands. My mind drifted, and for a while, I forgot about everything, about Mother, about the past, about the danger.
I didn't hear the door unlock.
Didn't hear the quiet footsteps.
Only when the shadow fell over me did I realize I was no longer alone.
I sat up with a jolt.
"Mother!" I gasped.
She stood just inside the room, a tray in her hands. Behind her, Nanny Chopper looked apologetic, refusing to meet my eyes.
"Why the shock, my darling?" my mother said smoothly. "Can't a mother visit her own daughter?"
"Nanny, I told you....." I started.
"I'm sorry, Melody," Nanny Chopper whispered. "I tried to....."
"Nonsense," my mother cut in. "There's no need to apologize, Nanny Chopper. It's about time Melody and I had a proper mother-daughter conversation."
She stepped forward, slowly, the tray trembling just slightly in her grip.
And just like that, the air in the room shifted.
Something told me this conversation would be anything but ordinary.