The gravel crunched beneath our slippers as we made our way through the winding garden paths. The summer blooms bowed gently in the breeze– lavender, climbing roses and the pale yellow of lady's mantle. It was quieter here. Our maids trailed behind at a respectable distance.
Coral walked slower now, one hand resting on her belly, the other linked with mine.
"My father wanted me to marry the Duke of Greymont," she said.
"I don't want to pry,"
"I want to tell you why I'm here," she said unlinking her arm with mine. "That's the only way all this heaviness on my chest can lift."
I didn't answer. I looked at her face waiting.
She stopped at a stone bench and sat with a sigh. "I didn't want to get married to him. I had someone I loved, so we eloped in spring. No permission, no ceremony. Just me, him and the chapel by the sea."
I sat beside her, "Did he send you back?"
Her silence stretched for a long moment before she answered. "No, I left."
I looked at her in surprise. She glanced at me and then away again.
"He was kind, even charming. The problem was me, I thought I loved him but all I really wanted was to defy father. I felt bad and guilty and I couldn't hide it anymore. So I ran away."
She shifted, adjusting her skirts and gazing towards the distance outline of the manor. "I wrote to Darrell and in that letter I lied. I said he died, caught the cold and he couldn't breathe. That's what they all believe."
The wind caught a curl of her hair and she tucked it behind her ear. Her fingers lingered at her temple.
"I'm honored that you trust me," I said softly.
"After all the years apart, I still feel close to you," she muttered.
"And we are," I said putting my hand on hers.
"There's something else I have to tell you....." She said, almost too softly.
I turned to her sensing the shift. She kept her gaze ahead avoiding mine.
"The man I eloped with isn't the father of my child," she whispered.
My breath caught.
She finally turned and her eyes shimmered, " I was foolish. I was in a new town, surrounded by strangers and..."
I pulled her for a hug.
"Cici, what am I going to do?" She asked now crying.
She pulled back. A shaky breath left her lips, and she wrapped her arm round her belly.
"I didn't know I was pregnant until two weeks after I got back to Rosendal. And by then...what could I do? I had adultered," she gave a bitter laugh. " Every morning I wake up and am reminded of my choices."
I reached over gently covering her hands with mine. She looked startled and then relaxed.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For listening... and not judging. I feel lighter now. I can finally breathe again."
We sat in silence, surrounded by blooming life and heavy truths.
"No one knows?" I asked quietly.
She shook her head,"No one does. Except you."
I nodded slowly, the weight of her trust anchoring deep inside me.
"Whatever happens," I said. "You won't face it alone."
Coral exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping as if she'd set down a burden too heavy to carry any longer. Then, as if determined to chase away the weight of her confession, she offered me a small smile.
"So," she said nudging me lightly. " How is marriage treating you?"
I gave a half laugh. "Well we're not sharing rooms, if that tells you anything. And he has the warmth of a snow- covered statue.
Coral burst into laughter, the sound bright and ringing in the quiet garden. "Oh Cici, you always had away with words."
"He doesn't even like me," I added. "He treats me like a steward he didn't hire."
"Well," she said, wiping the corner of her eyes with a gloved finger. "When I heard you were marrying into our family I was relieved and happy. Finally a soul I missed, a friend I need. My loneliness lifted instantly."
I laughed and for a moment, it felt like the old days again –the ones full of sunlight and pastries.
Coral grinned wider, "This will petrify you. As the new lady storm, you will be expected to host a gathering soon."
My laughter died down,"A gathering?"
"A party, Cici,"she said with mock gravity. "A tea for the society ladies. Cake, gossip, uncomfortable silk. All of them dying to see the new bride– fresh, glowing and awkwardly adjusting to her new title."
I groaned, "I'm already petrified."
"Oh you should be," she said. "But it's necessary torture. You must look radiant, speak just enough, and try not to spill tea on the Baroness of Eastgate. She holds grudges."
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. "how did you know all this?"
"I hosted two of them when I got back. Mother wanted me to win them over so they won't gossip all over. So I played a widow mourning her husband."
Then Coral rose to her feet with a quiet sigh, "Come, let's get back before our maids faint from standing too long."
I rose with her, still holding her hand. Still feeling the warmth of her trust.
And as we walked back towards the manor, I realized something: though we both bore secrets and scars. Maybe – just – maybe, we could find solace in each other.