Gwen was in her room, brushing her hair and talking about her day in the market.

"Did you go to the butcher?"

"Of course, Miss. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing," she said, biting her lips. She wanted to tell Gwen, but where should she start? The woman would only develop more dislike toward her aunts, and Geneva did not want that. Despite keeping her from her family, she still loved them.

"I met Mr. Priest earlier in the park," said Gwen.

Geneva snapped her head up to look at the woman. "Which Priest?"

"Webster Priest, Miss."

Her shoulders dropped. "Oh."

"And he asked me an odd question."

"And what question is that?"

"He—" Gwen paused and frowned. "Did you hear that?"

They listened. There it was again. "It's coming from the window," Gwen said, walking away.

Geneva stood from the dresser and followed, standing behind as the woman pushed the window open and looked down. Then to the side, and gasped. She immediately squeezed herself through the window to look, her eyes widening.

"Aunt Barbara!" she gasped in alarm.

Her aunt was poking out the window of the guest bedroom and was down straight at Damon, who was pressed against the wall. She turned at the sound of Geneva's voice and narrowed her eyes. "Geneva, is that you?"

"Yes!" Geneva said, signaling Damon to escape. "What are you doing?" she asked as Damon took careful sideway steps and then dashed out of sight.

"There was a noise at the window. I was passing by this room when I heard it. Did you also hear it?"

"Yes, but it must be just the wind."

Aunt Barbara looked around. "I'm sure that's not just the wind. It's too dark. I can't see a thing from up here."

Geneva and Gwen sighed in relief.

"Gwen and I will check," she said. "You go now and have your rest."

"I'll come down with you—"

"No!" she and Gwen cried in unison. Then Geneva hastily added, "It's too chilly outside. Please, we'll be quick. I'm sure it's nothing."

They waited with bated breaths as Barbara considered her plea. "Very well."

Then she was gone.

"Oh, God, I think I died," Gwen said, breathing out in relief as she clutched her chest.

Geneva, on the other hand, had already grabbed her coat. "Please watch their doors for me, Gwen. Or hide under the covers, pretend you're me sleeping."

"What?"

"I will not be long."

"But—"

She grinned at Gwen. "Goodbye," she whispered before she eagerly slipped out of the room.

***

Damon ran to the garden and listened to Geneva's conversation with her aunt, his heart beating hard against his chest. Brushing hair off his forehead, he slumped against the wall to catch his breath.

He waited, silently cursing Webster, until she finally emerged from the other side, running toward him in naught but her coat and slippers.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed. She sounded angry, but her lips were pursed as if she's hiding a smile.

"Well, I haven't seen you for a while," he said. "We've been trying to figure out where you window is."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "We?"

"Web and Harry. Never mind, you're here." He grinned at her and waited until her face eventually relaxed and she gave him a smile.

And a slap on the arm. "You gave me a fright!"

He chuckled soundlessly. "Please forgive me."

They fell quiet as they stared at each other. Then she rolled her eyes and looked around. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, as if she was just brushing it before bed. "Were you about to go to sleep?" he asked.

"Yes. But since you risked getting caught by my aunts," she said, giving him a wry look, "What do you suggest we do tonight?"

His brows cocked high in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"I can always go back inside—"

"No," he said, catching her hand to stop her. "We can go to Windsong."

"Not in these slippers, I'm not, Sir."

He grimaced. "A walk?"

She frowned, then sighed. "A walk then."

***

They crept along the walls and emerged into the street. He asked after her aunt, and she relayed what she knew. The night was quiet, the sky clear.

She looked up at the stars and wondered how many there were tonight. She could only guess, she thought. They had not agreed on a particular destination, but they were headed in the same direction. Not far away, she could see the Stratford Road. The silhouette of the trees looked like a cave and inside that cave was a glowing tunnel, with the moonlight streaming through the branches and the leaves. It was like walking toward a door that led to a different world.

"They may take her to Birth," she said after a while. "I want to go with them."

He nodded. "Birth is a good place of healing," he said. "Of any kind."

She looked at him with a small smile as they walked at an easy pace. "You have stayed there long many times, have you not?"

"Yes. I'm returning there in a few months. Webster is demanding more help."

A gush of wind blew past them. She held her coat around herself and he did the same. Their shadow cast before them as they walked, touching as if they were arm in arm even though they weren't.

"Was it difficult?" she asked. "The healing?"

Damon shrugged. "I didn't know I was going through it until much later." He drew in a deep breath. "All the while, I thought I was going insane. But one day, I just woke up and everything seemed... fine."

A small smile played on her lips. "I wish it will be easy," she said. "Of course, I'm hoping that she will get better, but a part of me is telling me to prepare myself. But I don't know how."

"You cannot know how," he said.

They had reached the Stratford Road, and in the same spot where he and his cousins played around, Damon stopped. She found a rock and sat down, watching the spots of moonlight on the cobbled road.

Damon stood beside her and leaned against the tree. "When it happens and if you want someone with you, send me a letter."

She grinned up at him. "And what will you do?"

"I'll rush to your side, of course. I'll take you around Birth. And I'll make you eat the most delicious meals because you'll forget to eat. And when you'll have trouble sleeping, I can climb up your window and bore you with stories until your eyes close and your ears block me out."

Geneva chuckled. "Or I can just go home here."

He shrugged. "Escape to Windsong. There's the garden."

"And the well," she added with a laugh, her eyes moist with tears.

"You have not yet been to the stream and the meadow. We'll have to explore those, too."

"And maybe I'll get the courage to go to the Vernons," she said, sniffling.

"Or you can meet your brothers first."

She had nothing to add. She couldn't. Her lips were already trembling. And then she was shaking with tears. He was suddenly beside her, taking her hand in his.

"I'm afraid," she choked out. "They'll be heartbroken and miserable. I'm afraid I won't know how to deal with that."

His arms wrapped around her and she rested her head on his shoulder until her tears slowed down. He did not have to say a word.

"It will be alright, yes?" she asked after a while.

"I can't say things will return as they were. It will be different."

"Different." She sniffled. "But better. I'll make it so."

She felt his smile when he planted a kiss on her forehead. "Yes."

Geneva wiped her face with the pads of her fingers. "Thank you. You always know how to deal with my tears."

"Not always."

She smiled and teasingly asked, "Is that why you don't say anything sometimes?"

"Mayhap?" he said and they chuckled.

Much later, they made their way back to the Withers House. He held her hand as they walked and refused to let go when they reached the side door. She gave him a silent look of warning and, with a laughing whisper, said, "Let go."

But he shook his head. The slight tug of his hand was asking her something. Geneva looked at him and her smile slowly faded. With a quick look around, she walked closer and rose to her toes.

His lips were soft as hers brushed against them. Then she stepped back, unable to meet his eyes. She did not know how to kiss someone, but she hoped she did it right. "Good night," she murmured, turning away.

She did not realize he was still holding her hand until he tugged and pulled her back into his arms. And that's when Geneva knew she kissed him wrong because he showed her a proper one. His lips moved over hers, moist and sweet, pulling back just enough so he could look into her eyes, and diving back in for more.

Before she knew it, she was pressed against the wall, her eyes closed, her arms around his shoulders. She had imagined kissing someone many times, from the books she stole, or the stories she heard whispered between the servants. Yet, it was not like this. And the lips she was kissing always had no face until he came into her life and kept her secrets.

Damon rested his forehead on hers. "Goodnight," he whispered with a smile, stealing another kiss before stepping back.

Later, after she roused Gwen and thanked her, Geneva closed her eyes with a smile, his face after their first kiss imprinted in her mind.

***

A week later, her Aunt Deborah was strong enough to come down the stairs, but not without help. She stayed in the parlor with a blanket over her lap, reading the bible. However, she could not go to church. She tried, but she could not go far from the door.

Prudence and Barbara went with Geneva. They received their friends' greetings of welcome and shared news about Deborah, how she was faring better every day. Geneva could only stand beside them, accepting their denial as their way of dealing with the situation.

Her eyes veered to the other side of the church. The Stratfords were all there, Damon included. He was looking at her, but did nothing when their eyes met. He knew he had to stay back. The devils, however, waved at her eagerly and she could only give them a quick nod before looking away.

"Everyone is still talking about that party, I believe," commented one of her aunts' friends.

"Which one?" asked Prudence.

"The Stratford engagement party."

Geneva stiffened and kept her eyes straight at the altar.

"Did you attend?"

"No, of course not. I heard they had plays and picnics throughout the week."

"Plays?"

"The youngest girls wrote the play, as I've heard."

Barbara shook her head. "I could not imagine forcing myself to sit and watch a play made by two children who could barely keep still in church."

She was correct about the devils not keeping still, of course (they slipped out of the church before service even started), but Geneva wished she could tell her aunt about the play itself. How the story was wonderful for such two young minds to create.

"Geneva," Prudence murmured from above her.

Geneva blinked and realized everyone had risen to their feet except her. She jumped up, ignoring her aunt's reprimanding stare.

If she feared her aunts would find out about her little adventures during the engagement party, she was worried about nothing. Her aunts did not wish to hear more about the Stratfords. They did not even bother to socialize after the service and went straight home, where Deborah was waiting for them.

Geneva peeked through the window of the carriage to catch a glimpse of the Stratfords and Damon. He did not see her, but she smiled when he kept looking over everyone's head as if in search of someone.

When they reached home, a few of their routines changed. They all joined Deborah in the parlor and read the scripture. Later, they discussed it and said more prayers. Once it was over, Geneva was too tired that all she wanted to do was lie in bed. Or go out and get fresh air.

She was about to make an excuse to go to the garden when her Aunt Deborah asked her to take her to the garden. The request surprised her, but she was glad to do it.

"I have decided to go to Birth," her aunt weakly said after Geneva helped her settle in a chair.

"Truly?" she asked with a smile. "I'm glad. Birth will be very good for you."

Her aunt looked at her for a long time before speaking again. "I would love to have you there, but I think the house needs you more. You already did so well while we were in Coulway."

Geneva's face fell. She was hoping to spend more time with her in Birth.

Her aunt opened her hand and waited. Geneva hesitated, but eventually placed her hand over Deborah's. It weakly closed over hers. "We'll send for you after a few weeks."

What did that even mean? That they would send for Geneva if she was in her death bed? Why could she not just go with them now and spend more time with them while her aunt was feeling relatively well?

"You're glowing," her aunt said, pulling her hand back. "I noticed it when we arrived. Being alone and away from us must have done you some good."

Her heart raced in her chest and her mind thought of any reason she could give if questioned. However, her aunt just sighed and looked away to study the garden. "I don't know why I have not spent much time here. This garden is quite pretty, isn't it?"

"Yes," Geneva absently said as she studied her aunt's face. Something was different about her. They had never had this sort of conversation before.

"Maybe I'll spend my mornings here before leaving for Birth."

She tried to erase the disappointment with a smile. "I'll be your company every morning then, Aunt Deborah."

Her aunt nodded. "Let's stay here a little longer, shall we?"

She nodded, blinking back tears. "For as long as you wish."