The children shook in their stockings when their father approached, seeking their permission to invite his friend into the manor. They couldn’t believe it. For the past few years, their home had been a sanctuary limited to only two guests: Paul and Elaine's physician. The proposal of introducing someone new, particularly a "lady friend" of their father's, stirred a whirlwind of emotions within his children.

Edmund sensed their initial apprehension. They had been isolated for so long, cocooned within the walls of the manor. The idea of accommodating an outsider in the comfort of their own home felt both exhilarating and unsettling. In the end, they did agree. Cecily, Josiah, and Elaine did, at least. In truth, they wanted to become acquainted with the lady ever since learning of their father's frequent outings with her.

The three youngest children peered out from behind the arch of the door, eager to catch a glimpse of their father and his companion as they spoke quietly upon their arrival in the foyer. 

Elaine was the first out, running straight into her father’s expecting arms. Meanwhile, Cecily and Josiah focused their attention on her. Josiah, ever the blunt one, took it upon himself to inform their guest of his father’s zealous cleaning spree in preparation for her visit, only to find the floors still lacking in cleanliness. Simultaneously, Cecily warmly welcomed their new guest, offering to be her guide through the expansive manor.

Imogene was captivated by the children’s warmth and innocence, their small voices blending in a chorus of curiosity and excitement.

Unnoticed by the bustling gathering in the foyer, Eugene observed silently from his position on the stairs. He sat with a brooding gaze, casting a disapproving eye upon his overly enthusiastic and excessively sharing siblings, as well as his stuttering father. When his gaze fell upon Imogene, a surge of frustration stained his vision red. Was everyone in the house touched by madness? It was a question he had pondered for years, and the resounding answer remained unchanged: Yes.

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The children noticed a subtle shift in their father’s behavior, particularly his newfound outings that weren’t bound by his usual work hours. They collectively held their tongues, sensing that there was something intentionally private about their father's activities. Instead, the girls adopted a pattern of watching him leave through the second story window - peering down at his departures and returns - his destination unknown. Their only understanding was that wherever he was going and whoever he went to see brought about a drastic change from his typical solitary days spent in his bedroom or study.

Sometimes, he’d leave in the early morning light. Other times, he disappeared in the late afternoon, just as the sun began its descent behind the distant hills. Regardless of the time, he would return hours later, occasionally when the children were meant to be in bed.

As weeks passed and their father's excursions from the manor grew more frequent, Cecily and Elaine noticed further changes in his demeanor and appearance. His solemn expression seemed to brighten, his steps gaining a newfound spring, and his attire, once simple and practical, now bore the mark of careful attention. They were unable to suppress their giggles at the sight of him freshly shaved for the first time in years. It was a notable change, but not unwelcome.

The girls whispered to one another one night as he strode out of the manor, wondering whom he might be eager to impress beyond the gates.

One afternoon, they caught a glimpse of the very person they had speculated about for so long. There, at the gate, stood the woman they had met at the market and who had surprised them with a visit to the manor all that time ago.

The realization dawned upon them – was their father spending time with her?

Initial confusion gave way to a whirlwind of emotions, but above all, they felt a surge of happiness for their father's companion. 

Their reverie, however, was disrupted by the arrival of their eldest brother. His scowl was evident from the moment he entered the room. While Cecily and Elaine cooed over their unknowing father and his lady friend, Eugene's face hardened.

“Who is she?” He uttered with disdain. “And why is he dressed so strangely? That hat is dreadful.”

His sisters ignored him, watching their father interact with the woman they couldn’t remember the name of. 

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Despite his best efforts to hide it, Edmund's discomfort grew with every step Imogene took beyond the gates.

He couldn't stop apologizing for the neglected state of his property. It’d been his first time ever feeling ashamed of the overgrown grass and cracked pavement. He’d even caught himself in a lie when assuring her the inside of his home was better off.

“Please, Edmund, there's no need. Grass always grows in grief. It seems nature understands the burden of sorrow.” Imogene interjected, ending his apologies. He only nodded, grateful for her understanding, but unable to find words to match her sentiment. Proceeding cautiously, she said, “I only recently learned of the tragedies that befell your family. I am so sorry for your losses.”

He forced a look of little gratitude, reluctant to delve into the past. The mention of his late wife, sister, mother, and father made him tense. While he acknowledged Imogene's sincere apology, it left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than to spit it out.

She sensed his disdain all too quickly, expected it even. “I, too, lost someone to the lung. My youngest brother. It’s been… difficult.”

Edmund remained silent, unable to express his sympathy without betraying his desire to keep the past buried.

She pressed on, “Grief has a way of consuming us, doesn't it?” His eyes reflected the weight of her words, although his silence and avoidance of her gaze revealed much. “We don't have to speak of it if you'd rather not. Sometimes, just knowing someone understands can be enough.”

The air grew dense with the burden of unspoken words as they wandered deeper into the garden and the grounds of his estate.

Edmund led her along the path to the weathered fountain, where she broke the silence. “I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, after all this time,” she confessed, her voice tinged with uncertainty as her lips formed a nervous smile. “I thought you had left, disappeared into the world beyond our little town. I never saw you on the streets again… I must also admit that there was a time your absence brought me relief - knowing I wouldn’t have to face you after-”

Edmund frowned when she stopped herself. He wondered if her motive for coming was to find closure with him and release years of harbored resentment.

“I suppose... I suppose I came here hoping to find solace. But now that I'm here, I'm not sure what I want you to say.”

Since her arrival, he had grappled with finding the right words, torn between the desire to make amends and the fear of rejection. Her face fell as she observed his inner conflict. Without a word, she moved to settle beside the fountain, leaving the onus of conversation to him.

At length, he found his voice. “I... I don't know what you want to hear from me, but I want you to know that I am sorry - deeply sorry for what happened between us and what I did to you… I realize this apology comes late in life, and for that, I apologize as well."

“Thank you…”

Edmund awaited her further response, hoping for more, yet was met with silence. Although his admission released some of the obvious tension between the two, it was evident that there remained unresolved matters. Drawing closer, he sat beside her.

“You didn’t come solely for an apology,” he deduced.

She looked at him, hesitant before asking, “Can I ask about her? Rosalyn?”

His reluctance was apparent as his gaze drifted, wrestling with memories long buried beneath layers of grief and the mere mention of her name. “It’s… it’s not an easy subject for me.”

“I understand,” she responded, her voice gentle. “But I must know… Did you truly love her?”

Without hesitation, Edmund confidently nodded. “Yes. I loved Rosalyn... with all of my heart. And I always will.” He didn’t feel ashamed saying so. If there was one thing he knew, that was it. “I don’t regret it – my decision. But I do regret how I went about it… We’ve carried this burden for far too long.”

Her smile took him by surprise. “I'm glad your decision brought you happiness in the end. There’s no intent to change the past,” she affirmed, her voice soft yet resolute, “but perhaps we could move forward as friends?”

He was unreadable as he considered the offer. Eventually, a subtle smile graced his lips. “Friends... yes,” he murmured with quiet resolve.

She extended her hand first, a testament to her sincerity - a handshake. He found the gesture slightly amusing, and despite his initial impulse to resist, he allowed his hand to meet hers in a tentative grasp. With a single shake, they sealed their unspoken pact - an almost senseless act but necessary.

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