Things happened fast. It felt like she took a nap. It was short, but filled with a series of nightmares that rendered her immobile. Helpless. And in just a snap, she woke up, and it all ended. And she didn't wake up alone. She was with the people who fought for her freedom. She trusted them and they didn't fail her.

One moment she was in a room listening to Doctor Mills talk about putting holes in his patients' heads, then she was in a carriage heading home, in the arms of her mother, her father holding her hand in his warm, rough hands.

"We're here, darling. You're not alone," her mother murmured against her temple, lips trembling as she, too, cried. From across the carriage, Matthew stared at her with a guarded look, as if he expected something to happen any moment. Beside his brother sat Damon. He gave her a small smile when her eyes landed on him.

The carriage behind them carried Stephen, Jasper, and the young attorney.

Everything seemed in place.

Yet she knew she was coming home to another challenge.

Her hand tightened around her father's. She wasn't ready to face her aunts. Could she forgive them for what they did? As her fear subsided, and the reality that she was once more free sank in, she just wanted to go home with her family. Wherever it might be, she could not return to the Withers House. Not for now.

***

They stayed a night in Strait, then they went to Dafield where Simone and her new husband welcomed them and where they stayed for three more days.

"You have had such an adventure, brother," Simone said as she settled beside him with a smile.

He only shook his head, also finding it hard to believe that things had gone this far.

"I told Daniel during our honeymoon that I was getting bored. Little did I know that we'd be coming home to this." She leaned closer and whispered, "How much of this mess was your fault?"

"None—Well, I don't know."

Simone laughed, looping an arm around his and resting her head on his shoulder. "Now that you've made such a mess, marry the woman. I don't think she wants to go back to her aunts."

"She has her family now, you know."

"Yes, but surely you don't expect her to live with them forever." Her head moved over his shoulder to look at him. "You want to marry her?"

"Of course," he said. "In time."

"When?"

"Her time."

She sighed. "Things fall in their rightful places, eventually."

He patted her cheek. "They did for you."

Simone chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for making it easy when it did."

He grinned. "Am I your favorite brother now?"

"You still made me stay in the well for a day years ago."

His laughter rumbled in his throat. "You nearly caused a fire, Sisi."

She scoffed. "Not just me."

He patted her hand. "It's not good to hold grudges."

His sister laughed and sighed. "I hope things fall into place for you and Geneva."

"I hope the same."

***

On the day they finally arrived in Abberton, Geneva went home with the Vernons. Every morning, Damon would come by and they'd take the hike to Windsong. Sometimes, Matthew would come with them with the cow. On occasions, Freda and Roxie would show up and they'd spend the day in the garden, picking flowers or drawing. She'd return just in time to help her mother prepare meals for her father and brothers. She learned other chores, such as washing clothes and gardening. Her afternoons varied. Sometimes Damon would come by and stay for supper, or they would pack food in a basket and go back to Windsong. But most of her evenings were spent with her family. Over meals, they would talk endlessly, with no time to care because she was no longer chasing it.

When she first arrived, she slept with her mother in the same room, her father with one of her brothers, until they completed the small room they built. She decorated it with flowers and filled with books she collected and haggled for in the fair. And it was in those nights when she was alone in her room that she thought about her aunts again. She'd wonder how they were doing, or how they had taken the news of her departure from Summerfield.

A month after her arrival in Abberton, Gwen finally showed up, tears in her eyes. The woman embraced her, all the while telling her she was sorry for having not done anything to the stop the men who took her. Geneva had to reassure her it was not her fault.

"How are they?" she asked.

Gwen's lips pursed. "I can tell you that they're regretful or that they're angry, but I can't lie. They're not showing either of those. They're utterly the same. It's fascinating how they can be so calm after the letter from Summerfield came."

Geneva sighed. "They don't show their emotions, Gwen, but that doesn't mean they don't feel anything."

"Well, I don't know. I'm only staying because I'm still hoping for things to change."

"That I might return?"

"What? No, of course not! Look at you! You look healthier and happier. I would not wish for you to return. I only—"

"Only what?"

"I simply hope they will accept you. I'd like to see that happen before things are too late."

Geneva reached for Gwen's hand and squeezed. She didn't say a word, but she was afraid. Many times, she had thought about visiting her aunts. But what if they would use their influence on her again and convince her to return? What if they told her to go back to Summerfield because it was best for her? And what if she obeyed them like she did these many years?

As Gwen told her more news about the staff in the Withers House, Geneva's mind wandered. By the time the maid left, a choice plagued her. If she wanted to move on, she would have to face them. She could not live the rest of her life wondering about her aunts, or regretting ever trying to be a part of their lives again. What they had done to her was unforgivable, but she could not fully blame them. It was the only way they knew how to deal with their fears. Summerfield was the only place they knew they could keep their loved ones safe because in their heads, they believed their own lies. Lies they created to protect themselves from the pain and loss.

Thus, three days after Gwen's visit, Geneva asked Matthew to go with her to the Withers House.

"Why in the bloody hell?" he asked.

"Because I need you to be there to help me escape. Just in case."

"I mean, why bother go there at all?"

"Because they are still our aunts. And they raised me. I still love them despite everything."

"Well, I don't consider them family."

"You don't have to," she said. "Although I can feel that they will grow to like you."

"Which will be unfortunate because I don't think I'll ever like them."

"Come now, Matthew," she said, pulling his arm. "The possibility is endless."

"The possibility of me committing a crime against two elderly women is indeed vast," he murmured.

"Matthew!"

"What? You said it yourself—the possibility is endless."

She argued with him all the way to the Withers House, and when they reached it, they stood outside the gates and looked up. Her brother was utterly disinterested as she knocked on the door. The footman's face brightened when he saw her. He led them to the drawing room and rushed upstairs to call her aunts. As they waited, Geneva smoothed her skirts and fixed her hair.

"Stop doing that," Matthew snapped at her over his shoulder before resuming his scrutiny of the figurines on the shelf. He picked one up, turning the small porcelain in one hand. "I swear this one looks like Jasper." He showed it to her and they both snickered because the figurine of a man with large eyes did have features similar to their brother.

"Put that down," a stern voice from the doorway said. Matthew whirled around in surprise while Geneva jumped to her feet, unconsciously righting her dress. "Now," Barbara ordered, eyes fixed on Matthew.

Geneva held her breath until her brother safely returned the figurine on the shelf and stepped back. Then she bit her lips when he said, "Beautiful house you have here," smiling at their aunts. "Interesting figurines, too."

It was Prudence who spoke, facing Geneva. "What are you doing here? Have you not smeared our name enough that you had to return and bring your brother—"

"I'm only here for a visit," she cut in before her aunt spoke anything that would outrage Matthew. "I hope to still be able to visit."

Barbara looked at Prudence, who only stared at Geneva with a blank look in her face. "Why? Is your family's little cottage a little uncomfortable for you?"

She stepped forward just as Matthew did and spoke before her brother could. "No. They're taking great care of me."

Barbara faced her with a frown. "Should you not be angry at us? For what we did?"

"I was, but I soon realized you only did what you did because you cared for me."

Prudence slowly shook her head. "You have already made your decision, Geneva. You showed us the path you wish to take. We don't approve of it, but as you and your counsel said in Summerfield, we are not your legal guardians. We have no authority over you, nor should we be obliged to feel responsible for your wellbeing. As should you." She stiffly turned away, saying, "Barbara and I can take care of each other."

"Aunt Prudence—"

"It is best you leave," Barbara said, gaze jumping from her to Matthew. For a few quick seconds, her eyes lingered on the young man with interest before they veered back to Geneva. "Know we have no other plans that are against your will. You are free to do what you want from this day on."

"But I worry about you. I still care for the both of you. We can still be a part of each other's lives," she said, hot tears behind her eyes. It hurt her to see her aunt block any emotion because she knew how hard it was to do so.

Barbara only shook her head. "Go. You're free."

***

But she didn't feel free. Not when a part of her still longed for her aunts. Not when she lived happily with her family and yet felt her life was not complete.

Therefore, as much as Matthew didn't enjoy it, he would accompany Geneva to the Withers House every morning to deliver fresh goods and greet their aunts a good morning. It took a different kind of courage to ignore their resistance, but as time went on, each visit changed.

Their coldness turned to annoyance, mostly at Matthew, who was the only one courageous enough to say his mind in the presence of their aunts. He would complain about the long walk he had to take, how he was tired of their coldness and indifference, and even the drafty drawing room. One time, he even surprised everyone when he opened the windows, letting fresh air and sunlight into the room. And before Prudence or Barbara could reprimand him, he smiled at them and said, "There. Better! See? You both look better in the natural light. Your place is too dark, really. How do you even see your way around here without tripping and breaking bones?" But as always, before they left, the windows were pulled back again, much to Matthew's disappointment.

That evening, while she and Damon were taking a stroll, she saw her Aunt Barbara's bedroom window open. By morning, when she and Matthew returned, they were closed again.

"Proud women," Geneva murmured to herself with a shake of her head.

Although it took months to eventually be invited for breakfast, Geneva felt hopeful things were working out well. Her days felt better, and she could not be happier with each passing season.

However, she knew it would take longer for her aunts to welcome the others, particularly her parents. But Theodore and Constance Vernon were patient, or, as her mother said, "I'm sorry to say this, darling, but I'm no longer too keen on building a relationship with my aunts. But I am open to it if they are. After all, I'm still grateful that they took care of you the best way they knew how."

But as Christmas neared, her mother one day asked if she could come with her and Matthew to the Withers House. Their aunts were not so pleased to see her, but they reluctantly allowed her to join them for breakfast. Matthew's presence was perhaps the one good thing during that very awkward meeting. He filled the table with stories about his plans to study in Coulway.

"Mr Priest convinced me to do it."

"And who will pay for your studies?" asked Prudence with a frown.

"Mr Priest," Matthew said. "He's quite hopeful about my future."

"You mean you will be indebted to them Stratfords?" Barbara asked.

"In a way, yes."

A brief silence followed. Then Prudence surprised everyone by saying, "We will pay for your studies, young man. Need not beg help from others."

"But I'm not begging. They're offering it because they want the best for me and my future. And what would I have to do if I accept your help?" Matthew asked, brows arched high.

"Nothing."

"I don't believe it." Matthew narrowed his eyes at Prudence. "I know you can be quite cunning, the both of you," he said, pointing his fork at them. "Don't say you aren't. I've played chess with you too many times."

Prudence rolled her eyes. When they landed on Constance Vernon, she said, "Convince your son."

"My son will do what he thinks is best, Aunt Prudence."

Geneva thought that was the end of the discussion, but Matthew surprised them more a fortnight later, saying, "If you intend to help me with my studies, you have to invite us to a Christmas dinner."

"What?" Barbara asked incredulously.

"Listen, Aunt Barb," said Matthew, "My family and I have been going to this house every year for a long time, and every time, you never let us see our sister. I'd like us to have a proper dinner together where you welcome all of us Vernons to your house."

And that was that. Geneva had her first happy Christmas.