The People of Dewbrook

Chapter Twenty

That night, the courtyard of the Wells manor was even more silent than it tended to be if it was possible at all. As far as she knew, Rosemary was the only one anywhere near it - her father was writing a letter to her fiance in the drawing room, her brother was stuck in the bathroom, and Caroline had locked herself in the library with a new book, sitting in a cushioned armchair like a statue while the fireplace gently illuminated the pages that gave off a strong aroma.

She was breathing in sighs, recalling her and Madam Proust's last conversation. However much she tried to dismiss the other woman's words as nonsense, however much she tried to think the way she always had, she knew that, in her heart, she could not help but feel that the older and obviously more experienced lady was in the right. It was immoral without a shadow of a doubt, of course, but that word, 'immoral', flew in the back of her head like a leaf in the air during a harsh wind, the concept having become somehow stranger. The passion she was feeling for her secret admirer, a man whose name she still did not know, was engulfing her body and soul, and if she had the opportunity to give in, she most certainly would have.

Seducing multiple men at once was something she never gave even a passing thought. Still, in her daydreams, which grew stronger and stronger as the months passed, she yearned for that fatal confession and that one clandestine kiss under a tree at the very least, and it was at that moment that she understood what had been inside of Caroline's mind for decades at this point. It was strange for her to discover that she had something in common with such a woman and that the woman was once just like her as well.

As if the amount of strange new feelings and occurrences in her life was not big enough already, a man knocked upon her door whose name and appearance she did not know. He seemed to be in his early twenties, his blue eyes shining with a radiance rarely seen elsewhere, his smile honest and young, appreciating every wonder the world had to offer, huge brown freckles all over his face matching his brown hair, those freckles being something she would never fail to associate with youth, his very noticeable dimples further emphasising all the vivacity and kindness she saw from that one look. It was not much, but she knew that he was the kind of man she would fall in love with, which caused her eyes to widen for a few moments. Was he indeed the man of her dreams, or was it all a false hope?

"You do not have to introduce yourself to me," he spoke just when she was planning to start the conversation herself. "I already know that your name is Rosemary Wells, and you know me too. I am aware that it seems unreasonable, but allow me to explain."

Rosemary frowned. "I am certain that, no matter how hard you attempt to explain the situation, I will never be able to understand it."

He sighed. "That is something you have guessed quite accurately. However, I promise I will try my best. First, do you remember these words: 

You came into my life all of a sudden,

And your presence sparked it anew.

From there on, my love grew,

And I swore I would never forget you?"

She dropped to the ground on her knees and began to sob loudly, tears flowing from her eyes like a waterfall. No one but her and her secret admirer knew of this poem, for there was no chance that they would know. In her heart, an unknown type of sensation kindled a flame. She was sorrowful, exactly as she had anticipated, but there was also a feeling far stronger than sorrow. It was mirth, particularly sinful mirth, mirth that lurked and waited to spread itself in their union, in the clandestine kiss that she had imagined, in the affair that Caroline had suggested.

Shame enveloped her like smoke, which was enough to prevent her from enacting it even if she did not know how to truly appreciate the beauty of good, but there was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to commit that act of adultery, and as long as there was a part of her that supported evil, no matter how small, she could not ignore it, which made her cry even more.