Lucy sat in the drawing room, reading a book as her mother practised some embroidery. Both women sat in silence, unable to think about anything but Lucy's current predicament, but unwilling to talk about the situation either.

Thomas and Julia's wedding was approaching, and Lucy had still not seen Mary. It seemed that, as Duchess of York, she had better things to be doing at the end of summer than wait around for Lucy to talk to her. She was somewhere in Sheffield, or Birmingham, doing something of importance, most likely.

Lucy knew she had many other people to confide in. Antoinette, her own mother, Princess Elisaveta... there were enough women to talk to about her heartache. But Mary was who she needed to speak to. Mary was the one who would keep a level head through it all, who could tell her what she needed to do without becoming swept up in her own ideals and interests.

Until she could see Mary, Lucy felt a little lost.

“Mother?” she asked. “When do you think I ought to begin plans to go to the convent?”

“I am not sure when we shall send you. It may be a little cruel to send you away in Winter, before Christmas,” her mother said with a slight sigh.

Lucy just nodded. That sounded sensible. It was a complete shock to her, naturally, that her parents would be willing to send her to become a nun. It was rather rare for women of any status to become anything but heiresses and wives. But they were scared for her. She understood that. They were scared she may never get married, she may end up spending the rest of her life as an unwed, lonely, unsupported young woman. They were not sending her away because they wanted to hurt her, but because it was the only way they could see of protecting her.

“I simply...” she began. She stopped and sighed, putting her book down. “I simply would like to know, because it is so sudden. I would like to know what to plan and what to pack, and have some time to think about the situation before I leave.”

“I suppose there is no urgency. A man will hesitate to marry a woman over twenty-five, but a convent will accept you regardless,” her mother replied, still concentrating on her sewing.

Lucy nodded again. “That makes sense. I would appreciate some additional time, to prepare myself for it.”

“It should not be too different to when you were in boarding school,” her mother replied, “and then at least you would be safe.”

“But I would be away possibly forever,” she replied.

“You would be able to come home, and we would be able to see you. Really, in terms of how long you would be away from home, it would not be much different than being married,” her mother said.

Lucy sighed. “But I would not be married.”

“Lucy, if no man is good enough, if no man is right for you... then what can we do? We cannot wait forever for something which would not happen. Most young women your age are already married. Certainly after nearly three years courting, one would expect you to have found someone.” Lady Fitzgerald shook her head. “No, we must protect your virtue and give you a purpose.”

“But how can I know that being a nun is my purpose?” Lucy asked.

“If you are not destined to marry, and you are too naïve to survive on your own, then you need to be somewhere you would be taken care of when we are gone. Somewhere you can cultivate virtue and do good in this world, to secure your place in paradise with us,” her mother insisted.

She nodded. “I suppose if that truly is the only way,” she said to herself quietly.

“I beg your pardon?” her mother asked.

She shook her head and smiled. “Nothing, I was just talking to myself,” she replied, picking her book up again.

Lucy still had her doubts, and was glad for the additional time. But unless a man made himself manifest in the following six to eight months, then what use was the time? If that man did not exist, then all the time in the world could not help.

If she was going to spend the rest of her life being this indecisive, then it was probably for the best that someone was finally taking the reins and making the decision for her.

Nevertheless, the sudden loss of control terrified her.

* * *

She made a point of dressing as modestly as possible on the day of the wedding. It would not be appropriate to show off her figure and her feminine features if she was not seeking a husband. It would send the wrong message, and then she may be approached by another Duke Perry or, worse yet, another Prince Ferdinand.

The wedding itself revived her own illusions and hopes for marriage. When she had been younger, this was exactly what she had pictured for her own wedding. A wedding that would never take place.

It was a beautiful affair. Although she knew that if she was to become a nun she would have to control her sinful thoughts and urges, she was nevertheless jealous of the couple who were enjoying such a fantastic day together. It made her heart sore to see it. The last summer flowers were so bright and beautiful, scattered about the church. It felt almost as though they had passed autumn and winter, and moved straight into next spring.

Great white bows were everywhere, on the ends of the pews, hanging from the unlit chandeliers, and pinned to the doors. The Byrd family crest was mounted high on the wall at the back of the church, signifying how their line was growing and strengthening with the addition of Julia.

Lucy watched the ceremony with a combination of awe and bitter jealousy. She could not believe how hostile she had been to this only a few months ago. It was not a terrible thing. It was beautiful. She had rejected it with such passion only because of Duke Perry. And now she craved it with equal passion thanks to Lord Jones.

After the ceremony she made her way to greet and congratulate the newly-weds. Thomas looked smart, but Julia looked positively radiant. Her smooth, long, dark hair hung freely about her head, and her deep brown eyes were enhanced by carefully applied makeup. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips glistened, and her stunning white dress hugged her body just enough to show off her nubile physique. Lucy could not help but wonder how she would have looked on her own wedding day, whether she would have been as beautiful as Julia...

“I suppose you are no longer angry at others for their happiness,” Thomas said.

Lucy blushed in shame. “No... I am sorry for my outbursts at you. I did not really understand. But I am so happy for you now.”

“I am not angry at you,” Thomas replied with a shrug. “Although I am confused.”

Julia nodded. “You used to be so keen on marriage. You were one of the first of us all to host play weddings. It is somewhat surreal to see you becoming so hostile towards it.”

“I am ashamed of my actions and words, to tell the truth,” Lucy said. “And I regret much of what I said.”

“But not all of it?” Thomas asked.

“I am just.” She paused. “I am not sure I am the sort of woman who marries. I suppose I was looking at the world through my own perspective, not realizing that other people see things differently,” Lucy replied. “But I am happy for you both. Wherever my own life goes from now, I am happy for you.”

Julia embraced her. “I am glad to hear you say that. But I am afraid we must go to the table again, it seems my parents are calling us over to see more relatives.” She smiled sweetly and, taking Thomas's hand and guiding him towards the table.

Lucy wondered about mingling. But what for? Nobody could take her mind off her fears. Nobody but Mary could advise her on what to do next. And it was not as though she needed to find a husband. It struck her how her every social interaction had been based around men. Now that she was not courting, she no longer knew what to do with herself.

Then Lucy saw him standing across the room. Lord Andrew Jones. Her heart began to beat hard and fast and her hands shook slightly. She wanted to walk up to him and talk to him. No, she wanted to see him outside the room and kiss him. She wanted to marry him. And he wanted to walk down a hallway with a woman who used to be his fiancée so he could do indecent things to her. Which was why she could not go and talk to him.

She pretended she had not seen him and wondered whether she could avoid him for the rest of the day. But he had seen her, and moments later she felt a hand gently brush her shoulder.

Turning around, she was directly face to face with Lord Jones. She felt herself blushing and stepped back a little, to put some space between them. “Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning to you too,” he replied. “Were you not coming to see me?” he added.

“I did not know you would be here,” she said, wondering whether to make an excuse and leave, or to stay and talk to the man she had respected so much. His presence was such a terrible temptation to her.

“I thought you were simply avoiding me,” he replied, making eye contact with her, his voice taking on an accusing tone.

She shrugged. She could not deny it. “I suppose it is a little uncomfortable for me to be around a man who I desire, yet shall never marry,” she admitted. “I would much rather be alone than stranded in the face of temptation.”

“I see...” he replied. “I have missed you.” His voice was full of love and hurt, and his hands shook a little, as though he were stopping himself from immediately embracing her.

“I have missed you also, but I cannot spend too much time with someone who is only tempting me into sin,” she replied. It was oddly liberating to be able to say these things to him. It was as though some sharp shards which were hurting her were being removed.

“Why did you go so suddenly at the ball?” he asked, sounding genuinely hurt. “Was that because of what we have done? Because you could not be in the company of a man who at once loves you and can never marry you?”

“That was... for a different reason,” she replied. “Although I suppose it relates.”

“Please, tell me,” Lord Jones said. “I need to know.”

She looked into his eyes and saw genuine despair. He wanted to be with her as badly as she wanted to be with him. But if he would not marry her, and be loyal to her, then it could never be. She shook her head. “It does not matter very much anymore, does it?” she replied.

She wanted to tell him about everything. But how could she? Even thinking about what she had seen broke her heart. He had lied to her, betrayed her trust. And yet here he was again, pleading for her attention as though he had not kissed Clara, as though he were not still obsessed with her.

“It does matter to me,” he replied. “I would do anything to be able to be your friend again, even if nothing more.” His voice trailed off at these last words. But how could he ask for anything more after what he had done?

“I... I am not sure we can only be friends. Especially after all that has occurred,” she said. She needed to get away from him. Even this conversation was driving her mind to sin.

“If you do not wish to see me anymore just because you're courting princes and earls, I do not mind. But at least be honest with me,” he said coldly.

“That is not the problem,” Lucy replied. “I am actually courting... nobody, right now.”

“Your parents are inviting in another parade of suitors to try and coax you into marriage, then?” Lord Jones asked, forcing a slight smile.

“Not at all. There is no man in my life. And there probably would never be,” she said. Could she tell him? She had to, did she not?

His eyes lit up. “Then what is the problem? If you and I shall never marry, then there is nothing to intrude upon us. We shall be able to talk, and be friends, if nothing else.” She could tell he was already thinking about more than talking and friendship. She had to stop this.

Lucy shook her head. “You do not understand... my parents think I may be happier in a convent.”

Lord Jones paused, then smiled. “That is a good joke,” he said, laughing a little and shaking his head. “A very good joke. You had me fooled for a moment there...”

Lucy just remained stoic and locked eyes with him sternly. He looked back into her eyes, searching for some hint that she was, as he hoped, joking.

He stopped laughing. “You are being serious?” he said quietly.

She nodded. “I am. It will not be for a few months yet, but my parents have given up all hope of me marrying, and have decided that at least I would remain virtuous and good and continue to contribute to society if I were a nun.”

“Miss Fitzgerald, I have to say that is one of the most ridiculous ideas I have ever heard. A convent would in no way suit you,” he explained. “I do not see why your parents think it is a good idea. They are only doing this because they hope it will spare them the shame of having an unwed daughter.”

Lucy huffed indignantly. “I shall have you know, Lord Jones, that they are making this choice because after so long in boarding school, they believe I am suited to such an environment.”

“A convent is not a boarding school, though,” he replied. “They are very different places.”

“I believe they are similar where it counts. I would be with other women, living independently, leading a structured, meaningful life,” she insisted.

“It is not like that, though,” he carried on. “A life of religious devotion... I have seen it myself. First hand. Most of the people on the Mission are priests and monks and nuns. It is not the sort of life you want to lead.”

“How would you know what suits me?” she replied indignantly. “You do not even know me.”

Before he could say anything else, she turned around and stormed out into the church gardens.