Society, which already referred to her as "not respectable". Of course. Of course, society would assume that first. Because what else could explain a powerful man abandoning a wedding so suddenly?
A flaw in the woman.
Always the woman.
Servants began exchanging nervous looks again whenever letters arrived. The last time it happened, there was no good from it. The house itself felt changed, smaller somehow as though hope had briefly entered its halls only to die there violently.
Penelope remained confined in her room for most of the day, not because she feared society, but because exhaustion had settled so deeply into her bones that she no longer trusted herself to stand before anyone without unraveling completely.
Mary hovered nearby constantly now, concern shadowing every glance she stole toward her mistress. "You should eat something, miss," she urged softly for perhaps the fourth time that afternoon. "You'd fall sick."
