Lucy knew she should not have acted so defensively, but it came so intuitively to her. She had to defend it. Because at least her parents, when they decided on something, could carry it through. At least they had the determination and drive to see it to its conclusion.

She could not allow him to disrespect her parents' decision for her, not when it was made with her best interests at heart. And especially not when she was unable to make a better choice of her own.

Besides... it was not as though Lord Jones were leaping at the opportunity to marry her and save her from that fate. It was not as though he had dropped down on one knee and proposed, to save her from becoming a nun. He was just telling her not to, without offering her any alternative whatsoever.

The fresh air in the garden was invigorating, although the sharpness of the wind and the billowing grey clouds on the horizon reminded her that summer was coming to an end. It felt strangely appropriate, that the heat and passion and beauty in the world were beginning to fade.

She walked down the path. The roses had all wilted now, and only a few summer blooms remained. Looking up she could spy the odd yellow leaf in the trees. Change was coming. Soon the trees would be red, and then they would be bare. Likewise, she had swapped her elegant dresses for modest, even matronly clothes. And soon she would swap those for a habit. It was for the best, though.

Hearing footsteps at the top of the garden, she wondered whether she should go back to the church. But the garden and the dying roses were calling to her, and the fresh air was clearing her mind. She continued walking. But the footsteps just got closer and closer. She had a pretty good idea who it was, but perhaps if she ignored him he would go back indoors.

“Lucy, wait.”

She turned around. It was Lord Jones again. She turned on her heels and let out an indignant exclamation before continuing to walk down the path.

He did not get the message. He walked faster yet again, trying to catch up with her. He seized her hand. She pulled it away and continued walking, not once looking back at him. Then she heard the rustle through the grass as he ran past her, and all of a sudden he was in front of her. “Please, Lucy, just... please wait.”

She pushed past him and carried on walking, starting down the slope towards the firs at the bottom of the garden. He did not give up.

“Lucy, please listen to me,” he insisted. “I care about you. I truly do.”

She stopped and turned around. He was still standing where he had been as she pushed him, this time looking down the garden at her, sorrow in his eyes.

“You do not care about me. Not one ounce,” she replied.

“Lucy, I truly do. You are my friend. I need to know that you are safe and well,” he insisted, walking towards her.

“No, you only care about yourself. About your thoughts. Your feelings. Your needs. You expect me to act like you, to do as you do. Well I am nothing like you.”

“Lucy, you are making a terrible mistake,” he insisted. “That life is not for you.”

“If you actually cared about me you would be thinking about my future, about the life I need to lead in order to remain safe and happy,” she said. “I cannot remain unwed forever. I cannot survive on my own in this world. I need someone to care for me, even once my parents are gone.”

“But you are an adult woman,” he replied, standing close to her. “You are strong, and smart. You may not have experience living in this world alone, but that is something you can collect over time. You will not be a free person if you choose that life.”

Tears began streaming down her face. “You do not understand. I am not a woman. Maybe my body is, but not in here,” she touched her head, “or in here,” her hand rested on her heart. “Deep down... I am just a child.”

He shook his head. “But you are not.”

“But I am! I am indecisive, I am almost completely unaware of how the world at large works, I am unable to look after myself.” She wiped the tears with the back of her hand. “I cannot live alone, Lord Jones.”

“Then... then get married. Our pact is not so serious, Lucy. If you are scared of being alone, then get married.” He ran a hand down the side of her face.

For a moment, her heart floated. This was it. He was going to propose to her. He was going to ask for permission to save her, to whisk her away from life as a nun and make her the happiest woman alive. Lady Lucy Jones.

“You can marry the Prince if you want,” he continued, “or the Earl. Or whoever you think is going to make your life easier.” He embraced her and it felt as though the world was coming to a standstill. “All I want is to make you happy,” he said, his voice shaking.

She was not sure what to make of this. Was he proposing? Was he hinting at the possibility of marrying him? Or was he saying she could marry anyone she wanted... but not him? She deeply hoped that was not the case. Because it was him, or it was nothing.

There was one way of knowing for sure.

She leaned her head back and pressed her lips to his. She had missed this. She had missed this beautiful sensation that overwhelmed her entire body. His lips were like sweet manna, bringing her to life. The whole world seemed suddenly brighter and warmer as she kissed him. She ran her fingers through his hair and moved her body closer to his. She needed him.

As his hands raised to her waist, she felt herself swooning. She wanted to feel those big, strong hands all over her body. She wanted him to hold her closely and protect her from the world as they kissed. And then... he pushed her back, forcing them apart, breaking the kiss.

She looked up. Had that just happened? Was he going to kiss her again, to hold her again? But no, he had a look of horror and disgust on his face. He shook his head slowly and sternly. Lucy stepped back, further away from him. She was in shock. He had pushed her away. Just like she had pushed Prince Ferdinand away. He was disgusted at her.

“I-I thought that y-you... Y-you started this...” she stammered in disbelief. “You kissed me first.”

“That was then. And this is now,” he replied. “Then... then we were both going to remain unwed. Now you are either to get married, or to become a nun. Either way, I cannot.”

“Do you not love me?” she asked, the tears returning to her eyes.

He looked to the floor. “Of course I love you. But I cannot claim what is not mine to claim. You belong to your husband, or to the church. Until then, you belong to your parents. You will never be mine. So I cannot act on my love for you.”

“But I need to marry,” she replied. “I do not want to be a nun. I want to get married. And I love you.”

He shook his head. “Lucy... this can never be. You can do whatever you please. Kiss princes, marry an earl, become a nun. But we can never be as one. You have to understand this.”

“Are you so committed to never marrying?” she asked quietly.

He nodded. “I am afraid so. You may be willing and able to go back on your word to me, but I cannot go back on my word to myself. You are, as you said, a child at heart. You made that vow not knowing what it meant to you. I made it knowing full well what I was doing.”

“But you said all you wanted was to make me happy,” she countered, wiping some more tears away.

He lifted his hand and stroked a lingering tear off her cheek. “I do. But not like that. Until you are an adult woman, who can handle herself, I cannot be with you.”

“Then just go,” she said quietly, sitting down on a tree stump and looking out over the garden.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked. “Are you asking me to... leave?”

“I am,” she replied bluntly, sniffling slightly. “I am not a woman. I need someone to look after me. And if you will not, I do not see what you are doing here.”

“I am making sure you come to no harm,” he replied. “I do not like seeing you out here, alone and sad, in the cold. Please, come back inside.”

“What do you care if I am alone and sad and cold? I am not yours, remember?” She felt the tears trying to start again.

“Does that mean I am not allowed to show any concern for you?” he asked. “Can I not have some sympathy for you?”

“No. Leave me and go back to the wedding, with the happy people,” she insisted.

“You know, you are right,” he said, his voice taking on an angry tone. “You really are a child. I cannot believe I was taking you seriously.”

His words felt like knives cutting through her heart. But, as she had done for so many suitors before, she sat motionless and silent, waiting for him to leave in a fit of rage.

“You are being ridiculous,” he said.

She heard the rustle of his shoes through the grass as he walked back up the slope, towards the church. She wanted to turn around and look, see if he was looking back at her. But she did not. She kept her eyes locked on the bottom of the garden.

Lucy sighed. She could see the graveyard out beyond the gardens. That was the end, whoever you were, whatever you did. All that counted was doing the right thing in life. And the right thing was to become a nun.

Being with a man she could not marry would hurt her parents, and put her at risk, not to mention be a grave sin. And marrying a man she could not trust or love would condemn them both to a miserable life. She could not become like the men she resented so much. She could not go around breaking hearts and ruining lives left and right.

With a heavy sigh, she stood up. The garden was empty once again. She began to walk back up towards the church.

The wedding had lost all of its life and colour to her eyes. It was not her world. It was not what she was going to experience. She still felt glad that Thomas and Julia were able to experience such joy together. Good for them. Just because she could never be truly happy did not mean nobody else deserved to be.

She slipped through the cheerful crowd towards the great figure of Jesus, the only Lord who truly mattered. His faded painted colours disappeared into the background compared to the bright flowers and white ribbons. But He was still there. He was always there, watching over everything they did.

She sat down in front of the great figure and looked up at Him. He had suffered in His life. Far, far more than she was suffering. He had suffered for her sins and she, so ungratefully, had continued to sin regardless. There were so many people out there, suffering more than her, and living good, pious lives. She could bear her pains and resist temptation. She could become a nun, not because it was what she wanted, but because it was the right thing to do.

She needed to stay away from the men who had influenced her so poorly, who had led her astray. She needed to focus only on faith, until she was healed of her own sinful nature. Perhaps then she would find true happiness.

No, the right thing to do would be to make amends with Andrew. She had been just as guilty as he was, and they needed to forgive one another to move on. It was in a lack of forgiveness that pain was born. Was that not one of Jesus Christ's most poignant teachings? Was that not what the Our Father said? “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

If her sin was to be forgiven, then she needed to show forgiveness to Lord Jones. If she did not, then she could leave pain behind her, just as Duke Perry, Lord Jones, and Prince Ferdinand had left pain behind them. She needed to move beyond that.

She needed to find Andrew, to forgive him for what he had done to her, to ask him to forgive her. They needed to part ways as friends, not as enemies.

Returning to the wedding party, she looked up and down for him, but he had already gone, it seemed. She swerved among the remaining guests, looking at every man, but not finding his face anywhere. But she could not give up. She needed to make this right. She needed to save him from a life of sin and pain like she had been living.

Perhaps someone else would know where he was. But all around her were unfamiliar faces, no doubt from Julia's extended family and many friends. She could not approach a stranger and ask after a man they probably did not even know. She needed to find a mutual friend.

Lucy finally found Antoinette. Her friend was talking with Julia, and Mary. But it was too late to talk to them. None of them were any use to Lucy now. She had made up her mind. She just needed to find Lord Jones, that was all.

Lucy marched over to the group swiftly. “Have you seen Lord Jones?” she asked before her friend could even speak. “I have something important to tell him.”

Antoinette paused. “I saw him earlier. I think he left, though...” she replied.

“Oh, I saw him go with Clara Neal,” Mary added.