Young Writers Society

A/N: Hi, readers! First of all I apologize for the late update. I've started rewriting my whole novel, from a third person narration, which I will probably upload when I already have two, or three chapters done. Anyway, if I upload it, it will be under another name, so this story will remain intact for you to read it in the original, 'cause I don't want to confuse you.

If you're, by chance, wondering how many chapters are left, I think no more of five. Hooray! Novels are brain-eaters, hah.
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We spent our month long holiday – or what was left of it, admiring the sea and the Seine, strolling among the city with no map in our hands to show us where we were. There had been a times when we got lost, and every time this happened, we would not ask help with directions from others, but instead lose ourselves in what we called an 'adventure' and wander about until the hotel came into our sight.

Soon, however, time slipped through our fingers and, suddenly, we found ourselves on board once again, leaving the beautiful France behind to return home. The azure sea that had carried our reflection while we walked along the shore, the bright sunshine that had greeted us each morning, the bed that had kept us warm in the night – for there was no other time of the day that could bring us closer… all of them were gone now.

I regretted having invited Albert that day to join us for dinner. I am certain William forgot our small misunderstanding already, and I did, too, but now that I thought about it again, we had spent one week of our holiday arguing on such unimportant matters. From this moment on, I did not wish to miss a thing; I promised I would do my best to avoid any other conflict.

Whenever there was only William and I, there was nothing to take away our happiness, but when a third person interfered, everything we had built would be gone and, although the reconciliation was the sweetest ever possible, sometimes I only wished to live a peaceful life, free of extremes and wild passions or outbursts.

While I pondered upon our return, I could not help but wonder who would be the next person to stand between us. William's father, his friend, Henry… none of them approved of our marriage; and, who knows, there could be others out there to think likewise. My heart could never be at ease as long as they did not consider me capable of making William a happy man.

I considered myself inferior to him sometimes, and – bittersweet irony! – I suspected that we shared the same feelings. I knew I might've never make him happy from an immaterial, rather spiritual point of view, while he was always afraid that he might not be able to support me materially.

At the same time, there was a strange feeling I encountered, and not for the first time, that William could get used to me, and nothing new would incite him. According to my supposition, based on the values I had cultivated before meeting William, our love would slowly die out of pure boredom of each other.

There was no single truth in this, but love is a strange thing; we, poor creatures, have to make sense of it, and I happened to find this 'sense' in my past experiences.

"Melancholy?" William asked while treading to me to take me in his arms. We were alone, watching the sunset as we did one month ago, while the ship carried us to Plymouth on even waves.

"Somehow. Now that nothing new awaits us, I wonder if you will still love me."

"I sometimes wish my wife would be less of a pessimistic."

I gulped with resentment, feeling bad for upsetting him. "Forgive me, I wish I were more of the woman you wish me to be as well."

"No, there is nothing to forgive. But tell me, my dear Rose, do the flowers ever grow tired of the sunlight? Every day they open up to it with the same zest, no matter how often. Your love is like a sweet drug to me, and I receive it with great ardour every time. I daresay you have gotten me addicted to it."

"You have merely delivered me a compliment by saying this. Addiction implies an extrinsic motivation, and when you'll lose your interest… what will happen then? Does your love for me not come from your soul?" William remained silent for a few seconds, but soon he was laughing at me. I reckoned I was a bit too harsh on him, since he only wished to deliver me an unconditional proof of love.

"You, my dear, are irreconcilable, and I will have to give up and take back my words. On the other hand, I am now obliged to do whatever you want me to do in order to prove you the verity of my feelings."

"Oh, sweet submission! Who can resist it? Well at this rate I'll have to trust your words, William. Hmm…" I muttered after a while, willing to change the subject, "I wish I had something to remember us about the time spent in France."

"Am I not proof enough?"

"You are, but you see… I was thinking of something… well… more symbolic, something that comes from France, even if not valuable… like a marble or a seashell from the sea…"

"You are truly fascinated with the sea, are you not? Well, in this case, I am pleased to give you this," William said as he showed a necklace made of seashells. "Will this do?" he asked me; I, in return, nodded my head and put it around my neck. "Then I am quite proud of my sense of anticipation."

"You made it yourself?" He approved with a nod. "Then I'll treasure it twice as much. But when did you make it?"

"While you were not looking, of course! Still," I heard him speak in a low voice after a while, "don't you think that we will have something else to remind us of France?"

"Hmm… no; what? I am confused."

"Well… Isn't it time that you…? Ah, never mind! You wish to surprise me; I can understand that."

"A child, you mean?" I said, attempting to guess his thoughts, and pouted when it proved that my guess was right. "No, William, I'm afraid not." Since our wedding day, I had been planting this idea in his mind, and now I was beginning to have second thoughts for doing so.

"Were you not feeling nauseous earlier? I thought it might be because…"

"It has nothing to do with it," I said with conviction, as if to erase all hopes that I had previously given him. "It is because of the sea…"

"But you weren't seasick the first time."

"No, I wasn't… Well I don't know the cause then; though it is not what you think for sure… If only it were so! In all honesty, William, I think I am losing hope that I might one day bear your child. I've led a chaotic life and these are the marks it had left upon me."

"Now let's not jump to conclusions and trust in our future instead."

"Of course, let's do that," I said, although I did not believe in it myself.

"Mayhap this is the way things are meant to be. Somebody up there wants us to enjoy our lives while we are still young, and great things await us later."

"Would you not enjoy a life in which you are the father of my child?"

"You know I would. But you are aware of the responsibilities that would come with it, are you not?"

"Yes, I am." I was, indeed, but they could barely be named "responsibilities" compared to the joy and happiness a child would've brought about. However, I knew William did not think so deeply of the matter, and it was no fault of his. Only a woman who loved a man to madness could've felt what was in my heart then. My wish of giving him a child came from a profound sense of self-sacrifice that I had developed in time, a feeling I was scared of at first, but which I understood so well now. "You're right though," I added with a bit of resentment, "let's talk about something else, shall we?"

The waves became calm, the wind abated, while the day faded into evening, and our conversation into silence; soon, I was asleep, my head resting on William's shoulder. I did not get to rest too much, for my sleep was soon disturbed by William's voice announcing our arrival.

I was wide-awake on our road to London, watching the landscapes growing dim through the window of the train, but when we arrived on Bond Street, a wave of dizziness and weariness overwhelmed me, breaking my peace of mind. William left my side for a moment to summon a coachman and I woke up, as if from a dream, surrounded by familiar faces all around me – men wearing the symbol of their nobility, women coming from the lowest social statuses, attending to nobles of all sorts…

Upon every figure I could see lay one of the sins that I had once committed. A young girl was running a strand of her golden hair through her finger while speaking with an admirer; another was making a curtsy in front of a gentleman, exposing too much of her ankle face while talking. In the distance, a lady entered accompanied by a young man in a jewellery shop. Five minutes later, they both left the shop, he – a fortune less wealthy, and she – admiring a tiny box with jewels. I saw vanity in all these, and on top of this, I saw lies in every pair of eyes that I peered at.

Goodness, was it myself I was seeing in the mirror of the past when I beheld this charade, this masked ball worthy of disrespect?

Through this crowd of familiar faces, there was actually somebody I recognised and that somebody was Mr. Lowsley. He looked as if he was heading in my direction, but then out of a sudden he turned on his heel and turned to his left. "Done! We must hurry," called a voice behind me. Startled, I turned around to see who was there, and sighed with relief when I found William next to me. "Were you looking for me? I am right here."

"Actually, I thought I saw your friend. Is that not him?" I said, pointing with my finger in his direction before he disappeared behind a building.

"I think so… I wonder why he did not join us. Ah, never mind, what am I saying? I am glad he didn't; he would've ruined the moment. Come now, my dear, the coachman is waiting for us, and so must be Annette." Indeed, my maid had been previously announced of our arrival, and I trusted she had cooked our favourite dishes. Having been installed into the chaise comfortably, and although the road to our place was short, I fell deep in slumber once again and this time was not disturbed.

Hours later, I was home, in Oxford, already settled in my bed and asleep.



The beginning of May announced the end of our holiday, and the return to our home. We made one last stroll along the seashore in the morning before our leave, and bade farewell to France and to every landscape that made it up, before returning to our hotel to pack our luggage.

During our ride to Oxford, Rose fell asleep in my arms and I, upon greeting Annette, had to assure her while carrying the lovely nymph, that my beloved bride was safe and sound. She, however, did not let herself convinced of the fact, not even when she took a closer look.

"But Sir, my lady is so pale…"

"Pale? What do you mean, Annette? She is perfectly fine; I guarantee it. Do you mean to insinuate that I failed to take care of her?" I whispered in a light tone, so as to not appear mad, or wake up the sleeping nymph.

"No, Sir, I would never dare to…"

"Hush now; the only thing she needs is some good rest. You should go outside and bring the lady's luggage inside, instead of talking nonsense."

"Yes, Sir." These being said, the maid left the room and I attempted at taking a closer look myself.

I must admit that having seen her somehow seasick and uneasy when we got aboard worried me a bit. Concernedly, I rolled my hand over her face, inspecting her forehead and cheeks. The temperature was at its normal level; she was neither cold, nor too warm. I could see the corner of her lips curled upwards and hear her elaborate breathing and I knew then that she was fine and healthy. Must've been our maid's dreadful imagination only, since I saw nothing of the paleness that she claimed to have noticed.

I drew the curtains, and then went downstairs, leaving Rose alone with her sweet dreams, for it was a pleasant dream she must've had, since she was smiling so sweetly. Before retiring in my study room, I asked Annette whether I had received any letters in the meantime.

"Only one, Mister Howsham, but Mr. Lowsley has been inquiring about the date of your return several times, and he also requested that you meet him immediately."

"I hope it is nothing urgent, though."

"On the contrary, Sir, it seemed to be a matter of such importance that it seems to require immediate solution."

"Is that so? Well, let me read my letter first. I see it is from Henry!" I exclaimed, upon reading the name of the sender. "It must be a matter of great urgency, indeed. At any rate, I shall check my correspondence later; right now I want you to bring me the finest wine we have in store."

I watched the sun set while savouring the vintage. True to my word, I ignored that envelope and its content until I finished my wine. Several times after, I attempted at opening Henry's letter, but got distracted of other thoughts that roamed my mind.

How fast time went by! How many things did one year change! How much one's life could be influenced by another… My trail of thoughts was, however, interrupted, by my wife's voice calling my name.

"William!" she said and rushed to seek shelter in my arms.

"Lo and behold! The fairest rose of all has awakened!" was my response, as she came closer to give me a sweet kiss. "Have you slept well, my love?"

"As well as ever… And I am not yet sure if I am not in a dream. Tell me, William, am I dreaming still? Am I home for real?"

"A dream it could not be, for sure, for that is what we left behind in France."

"You're most wrong, William," she hurried to contradict me. "It feels good to travel where one does not dare to wander with his own mind, but to return to the place you belong is even greater joy; it gives a sense of belonging. The journey would not be as delightful if there were no homecoming."

"You spoke the truth, my dear, and I can't deny that, but have you no regrets? I might not be able to spend a whole day with you now that we're home."

"Right," she added, seeing the paper I had in my hand, "you must have a lot of work to catch up with… Is that a letter in your hand? Won't you read it?" I was, indeed, about to open it, but our maid came in to announce that the dinner was ready.

"My correspondence… No matter, it can wait. You must be famished, and so am I." I discarded Henry's letter, leaving it on my desk, and we both retreated in the dining room for dinner.

The plates had been emptied, my glass of wine as well, though I didn't seem to be at ease. I was crossing the room, pacing from one corner to another nervously. It felt as if there was something important that I needed to remember.

Rose noticed my restlessness and followed me as I made my way to my room. "Are you not going to sleep?" she asked me when we were in our room. "It's past ten o'clock already."

"No… Not yet."

"What are your waiting for, though? You seem to have something on your mind.

"I do; I know I've got something important to do, but I can't seem to recall what exactly."

"Rather strange. In all case, you won't find out if you keep on fussing around. Won't you come to bed and think about it tomorrow?"

"Humph… "

"By the by, William," Rose said, after a while, "what did that letter say?"

"The letter!" I exclaimed, as if having a premonition. "Yes, this is it! I almost forgot; I haven't read it yet. I'll be back in a minute." In an impetuous haste, I hurried downstairs to the room where I had previously left that damn missive, only to find that it was not there anymore.

To no avail did I search every drawer, every corner and place in the room. The envelope was not there anymore. Hurriedly, I asked our maid if she had seen it anywhere in my room, but her answer was negative.

I returned to the room in the same agitated state that I was in, and urged myself to sleep. In all truth, had I not been holding an angel whose ease had not been disturbed as mine was, I trust that I would not have gotten a wink of sleep that night.

I needn't have worried, though – regarding the content of that letter, at least, if not for anything else – for the first person whom I encountered the following day, apart from my dear wife, was the sender of the missive himself, who hit the road early that morning to come to my place and deliver me the content of it, in addition to some great news that I was not willing to hear – not willing at all.

Henry entered my house like a storm, as mad as possible, yelling at me and accusing me for disregard of our business. "Where on earth have you been, William? Have you lost your mind already? I've been searching for you desperately."

"I have not been in the country, Henry."

"Yes, of course… You've been in France; your maid told me. France is what you needed then, when the industry was going down… A nice mess you've made of it! I sure as hell wish I'd never accepted to be your partner in business. It is obvious you don't give a damn about it!"

"Calm down, Henry. There is a woman in this house and I don't want her to hear our altercation. Won't you tell me what happened and sum up our conversation to this subject alone?"

"For goodness' sake, have you not read what I've sent to you? We're ruined, broken… dead; our company has nearly gone bankrupt! It's as if we did not exist at all in the industry! Here," he said, handing me some reports. I did not know much about business, but there was something I could understand: Henry was damn right and I had been neglecting my duties too much.

"Now calm down, my friend, I'm sure the future does not look that grey as you portray it."

"Your friend? What a friend! Tell me about it!"

"And there must be a solution."

"Then I invite you to find a solution yourself. I am not going to help you with this anymore. You are the worst partner I've ever had, and it is no wonder! You better put your own head on your shoulders and be sure it won't fall again this time again!"

"Wait, wait, Henry –" I said before he hurried to open the door. "You don't want to walk out of this now. There's been great profit on your side, you don't wish to give up."

"The Hell I'm helping you out with it, William. Au revoir, my friend! May your money allow you to make another trip to France, it is obvious that it did you good."

With these bitter words, and a loud thrust of the door, Henry made his departure. I saw no use in stopping him to deliver my complaints to him, since I was in all honesty the guilty part.

I returned in silence to the bedchamber. I was thankful to see Rose was still sleeping, I wouldn't have wished for her to worry, or to make an issue out of something of little importance. I would work hard to turn things right, and ask for Henry's help. I doubted in that moment that he would not help me in the end.

For the moment, I had to do with the fact that Rose did not hear our conversation, and that this situation could still be resolved. I had to start work as soon as I could, thus I went to the study room, and started searching for my papers. In the hurry that I was in, I dropped a pile of books on the floor. When I attempted to take them from the floor, I noticed Henry's letter emerging from between two books.

Nervously, I tore it in small pieces and threw it in the paper bin.

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