Page 50 of A Governess' Forbidden Flame
However, there was something that irked him more than he was willing to admit. The behavior of Frederick’s sister, especially with regard to Amelia, would not be tolerated any longer. He vowed to put that woman in her place, should she say anything else that might displease either him or Amelia. It was one thing to tolerate guests, but completely different to tolerate rude guests who had arrived uninvited.
***
Amelia didn’t want to open her eyes that morning. She wanted to remain in her reverie for a little while longer, remembering the events from the previous night. But she knew that dreams were only that, wishes that had no means of being fulfilled. Still, she was grateful for what had happened, grateful for the happiness that came as a result of that.
She got dressed for the day, rushing down the stairs, where she stumbled into Stevens, carrying the morning’s correspondence up to Sebastian’s study.
“Good morning, Stevens,” she chirped. He nodded without any smile, but she had come to see the flickers of happiness in his eyes. He was a man who had outlived his wife and both his children, seeing them gone and buried. In a way, working there was the only thing keeping him alive, as he counted the days in his obligations, not in the hours.
“Miss Wycliffe,” he greeted her. “You have mail, I believe.”
He offered her the tray so she could pick the letter that was for her. It was on the top, a pale yellow envelope, smelling of lilacs in bloom. Amelia did not need to read the sender’s name at all. She could close her eyes, inhale deeply, and know that it was a letter from Rosalind.
“How wonderful,” Amelia gushed, taking the letter and pressing it to her chest with tenderness and deep love. Immediately, she felt closer to those she loved most, those she had not seen in what felt like an entire eternity.
“Sister?” Stevens inquired politely.
“Best friend.” Amelia smiled even more broadly.
“Ah, a sister indeed, but not by blood,” he said, and for a moment, she believed that she saw a faint flicker of a smile on that worn-out face. But he turned away before she could take a closer look.
She remained alone in the corridor, impatient to run back to her room. She tore the letter open, drinking the words that oozed out of the paper and right into her very soul.
My Dearest Amelia,
I trust this letter finds you in the most splendid of spirits, surrounded by the grandeur of Ravenscroft Manor. Oh, how I long to be in your presence, my cherished friend. The city here is alive and vibrant, but it lacks the vivacity that your company brings.
Now, my dear, permit me a moment of candid advice. I have been thinking of you often, contemplating the complexities of the heart. In the dance of life, it is easy to be swept away by emotions, to lose oneself in the whims of affection. But, Amelia, I implore you to be cautious. The heart, though a beautiful guide, can sometimes lead us down treacherous paths.
As you navigate the halls of Ravenscroft, surrounded by its enigmatic inhabitants, remember the wisdom that resides in reason. Trust your judgment, for it is a steady beacon in the tumultuous sea of emotions. Be reasonable, my sweet friend, and do not let the allure of the heart cloud your innate discernment.
I miss you terribly, and it pains me not to be by your side, offering counsel in person. Your happiness means the world to me, and I wish only for your well-being. Take each step with thoughtfulness, my dear friend, and may the enchanting halls of Ravenscroft be filled with your joy and fulfillment.
With all my love,
Rosalind
Amelia’s bubble of sparkling happiness had taken a blow. The words from the letter were not what she wanted to hear right now, but she knew that her friend meant well. After all, she was only advising her to be cautious and to tread lightly, following her mind, not her heart. It was advice she herself would give both to her best friend and to her sister.
“Miss Wycliffe?” She heard Anna’s voice behind her, and she turned around.
“Anna,” she smiled. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Anna smiled back, her eyes curiously gazing at her hand. “Is that a letter in your hand?”
“Yes, my friend Rosalind wrote to me,” Amelia explained.
“She is a good friend of yours?” Anna wondered, having thought about it for a few moments.
“The best,” Amelia assured her.
Anna seemed sorrowful for some reason. Amelia could immediately notice that.
“What is it, my dear?” Amelia wondered, caressing her cheek. “Why the sudden sadness?” Seeing her little ward in this distressing state made her mournful as well.
Anna thought about it for a moment, then she revealed the source of her sorrow. “I don’t have a best friend.”
Amelia shook her head, wondering what would be the best strategy to deal with this source of anguish. “Well, that is not good.”
