Page 15 of The Governess’s Absolutely Impossible Wish (The Notorious Briarwoods #8)

B riarwood parties were not like other people’s parties. Zephyr’s mother was extremely careful about that. And just like any of the other plays they had done in the house in the past, the audience had been curated very carefully. His mother would not allow silly people in who did not understand the importance of Shakespeare and the importance of simply putting on a production in the middle of winter to cheer everyone. So, the crowded hall was full of like-minded thinkers and open hearts. They had come despite the muddy roads, thinking it more important to come and feel a bit of light during the dark winter months.

Luckily, the roads had been decent this week. Zephyr was grateful for it. The end of January was in sight. Soon flowers would be pushing up from the ground and everything would turn about.

He was getting married. The promise of new life whispered through him. And yet as the crowd thundered with applause in the long hall at the finish of the play, he held on to his soon-to-be wife’s hand and tried not to panic.

He did not usually panic, even when he was in the worst of his moods, but he could feel her own fear and he understood why. Miss Abelard, her teacher? He had spotted her in the audience at the very beginning and she looked quite perplexed. There was a concern to her features and, dare he say, an upset that he had not expected.

Was she truly so narrow in mind to judge her former student so fiercely? Was she going to be harsh? Well, he would not allow it. And as he and Giselle stepped forward and she curtsied and he bowed, he squeezed her hand.

She turned and smiled at him. He could see the fear in her eyes, for the reunion between Miss Abelard and Giselle would be soon. And yet she did not shrink. No, she stood like a glorious warrior ready to go into battle. And when he led her off the stage, the children bounded behind them, their fairy wings dancing about.

Octavian dashed forward and grabbed hold of Giselle’s flowing Grecian skirts. “You were wonderful. You were wonderful,” Octavian cried.

She immediately let go of Zephyr’s hand, knelt down, and swept up the little boy. Then she was surrounded by a bevy of small bodies who were cheering and jumping up and down. Portia, Maximus, and the smaller ones who often could not put a full sentence together, for they were so little but adored her as if she was queen of the fairies herself, dashed about her.

“Thank you,” Giselle said, her voice rich with emotion. “You were all so magnificent. I was convinced I was in fairy land,” she declared.

“It is because of our wings,” Portia said.

“Most certainly,” Giselle agreed.

“Do you like mine?” the smallest, Cymbeline, asked as she turned about.

“I like them very much. They are the perfect color. I am so very glad we chose pink.”

Cymbeline beamed, preening.

And then Giselle stood slowly, shockingly beautiful in her Grecian gown, with the flowers tucked into her red hair. “All right, children, go with your nursemaid. You deserve a treat.”

The nursemaid stood in the doorway, looking as if she had just been to heaven and back. Everyone had enjoyed the production, including the servants. The children let out a cheer and headed off.

She turned to Zephyr. “It is time, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “If you think so.”

He held out his hand to her, and she slipped her fingers into his.

“I fear she’s going to be quite furious. I never thought I would let her down so entirely.”

“Let her down,” a voice called from the shadows.

They both turned.

It was his mother, Sylvia, the dowager duchess.

“You have not let anyone down, my dear.”

Giselle turned to the dowager duchess. “I’m sorry, Sylvia, but that is simply not true. I have let Miss Abelard down. I told her one thing, and I have done another.”

“You have grown,” the dowager duchess corrected, striding forward in her magnificent gown of emerald silk. Her jewels danced in the firelight. Her silver hair shone like a crown.

“Grown?” Giselle repeated, her brow furrowing.

“Exactly,” the dowager duchess stated firmly. “Look at you, my two darlings, my beautiful children,” she said softly. “You each have grown immensely in the last few weeks. You two were meant for each other and not just to fall in love like the poets say. You two were destined because you would teach each other things and help each other grow. And I am grateful that I’m a part of it, for you also teach me.”

Giselle blinked. “I do not understand. How can it be growth to go back on one’s vow?”

“Oh, Giselle.” Zephyr’s mother rolled her eyes. “Are you still worried about that?”

“Yes,” rushed Giselle. “Miss Abelard will be very angry with me. She sent me here with the intent of teaching and maintaining an independence from the family.”

Sylvia considered this without judgement, then said, “Perhaps it is Miss Abelard’s role to grow now and understand that we are not little soldiers and dolls to be marched about without feeling. We cannot control our feelings. Life is a great flowing thing that we must throw ourselves into and allow ourselves to be transformed with each new curve, each new experience.”

Zephyr felt his heart lift at his mother’s words, and he turned to her. “It is true,” he said. “We cannot control how we were born. What emotions we are given.” He turned then to Giselle. “I cannot even control my feelings for you.”

“Nor can I,” Giselle confessed, “but I do not think Miss Abelard will see that as an excuse.”

“It is not meant to be an excuse,” his mother said softly. “But know this, Giselle, you were always meant to be my daughter. I have been waiting for you, you know.”

Giselle’s eyes widened with shock. “What?”

His mother nodded gently. “Zephyr’s wife had to be someone like you. Someone who had seen hard things, who had experienced her own suffering, who had come out of the dark and learned to be more flexible for it. Zephyr needed someone who could see his sorrow and suffering and not judge him for it, even though his sorrow and suffering might not be…reasonable, as he might say.”

His heart ached, not for himself, but for the way life could sometimes twist and turn one away from love and the help that awaited them. He wouldn’t do that. Not any longer. “Mama, please forgive me for not coming to you.”

“My darling,” she breathed, “it is time that you admit that you should not apologize for the way that you were made. You were made with a specific purpose in this life. And if you had not been so, Giselle would not have chosen you.”

He stared at his mother, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt the weight of his winter sorrow lift.

And then he smiled slowly at the strange, appealing idea. “Is it true?”

Giselle let out a slow laugh, as if the truth was dawning upon her. “How very shocking. But I’ll tell you true, Zephyr. If I had not seen the need in you echoing the suffering I had felt as a child, I do not know if I would’ve been able to connect with you. It was that moment underneath the harpsichord where I knew that I had to give myself over to you, where I had to be free, where I could not be cruel and leave you out to the cold of sorrow.”

“Then I have to be grateful for it,” he said.

“We must be grateful for every part of ourselves,” his mother proclaimed, “because they are there to guide us, to teach us, to transform us into who we are truly meant to be. For you two are on a path now, not alone, not isolated, but moving together towards love. And Miss Abelard cannot change that unless you allow her to, my darlings.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Sylvia strode to Giselle and swallowed her up in her arms. “If you will allow it, you are my daughter, and you always will be.”

Giselle let out a shuddering cry. “I have longed for a mother for a very long time. Miss Abelard was kind…”

“But distant,” his mother finished kindly. “As she, no doubt, felt that she needed to be because that is her journey, how she keeps herself safe. But you no longer feel the need to protect yourself like that, do you?”

Giselle shook her head, leaning back, her eyes shining with tears of happiness. “No, because if I protect myself like that, my song would not be heard. I will never be fully me. And I would never know the love of this family or Zephyr.”

There was the sound of applause then.

And he turned towards it.

His Aunt Estella stood in the shadows. “Bravo, my darlings,” his aunt called. “Our own songs. That is all we can ever hope to awaken to, to know that we must celebrate this life every day and with each other because we have no idea when the painful turns this life brings will come.”

“But no matter how cruel they are…” Sylvia said.

Zephyr smiled. “We can ease each other’s burdens.”

Giselle beamed. “And we show each other the way to love.”