Page 2 of No Place in Time

The bitter taste surged again. She drew slow, careful breaths until the sickness eased.

After a few pleasantries, Alard asked for a moment alone with Cecily. Her parents agreed, and the door closed behind them.

Cecily clasped her hands together the way she’d been taught, not trusting herself to speak first. She looked down at her hands.

“You are very young,” Lord Alard said.

“Yes, my lord. I have sixteen years.”

He studied her for a moment, then smiled faintly. “Youth is no hindrance. It is… adaptable.”

Adaptable? The word unsettled her.

She looked at him directly. “My parents have not yet given their answer.”

“No, not yet.” He paused, as though considering something of mild interest. “But such things rarely remain uncertain for long.”

Her pulse quickened despite her effort to remain calm. “My lord, I would like time.”

“You will have it,” he said smoothly. “Within reason, of course.”

She lifted her eyes to his. “And if I…” The words caught in her throat. “If I wish not to marry at all?”

For the first time, his gaze sharpened, not angry, merely attentive, as though she’d finally said something worth noting.

“That is not a decision for you to make,” he said. “Your father will decide for you.”

The calm certainty in his voice frightened her more than anger would have.

“Your parents are prudent people,” he continued. “They understand which paths remain open for you, and which do not.”

A knot of fear tightened in Cecily’s stomach. She couldn’t decipher his exact meaning, only the cold threat beneath his words.

He stepped toward the door, then paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “My late wife,” he said, his voice softening, “was a delicate creature. She learned, in time, that a garden blooms best when it is well-tended and securely walled. Peace comes from understanding one’s place.”

Then: “Do you, Lady Cecily?”

Before she could answer, he opened the door.

“Think on it,” he said lightly. “There is no need for haste. These matters resolve themselves with time.”

His first wife. No mention of love. No mention of tenderness. No mention of kindness. Only obligations. Understanding one’s place.

Cecily stood frozen, understanding that time was closing in on her.

∞∞∞

She lay awake long after the candles burned down, staring at the dark beams above her bed, while her thoughts chased one another in tight, frantic circles. Lord Alard’s voice echoed in her mind, so calm, so certain:

“She understood her obligations. Do you?”

The words pressed against her chest until breathing felt difficult.

She rose quietly and pulled her shawl around her shoulders. The corridor beyond her door lay in shadow, lit only by a single taper at the far end.

As she passed her parents’ chamber, their hushed voices drifted through a narrow gap in the door, stopping her cold. She knew she should retreat to her room, but instead her feet carried her closer, until she was pressed against the dark wood, listening.

Her mother was speaking.