Sunlight crept through Cordelia's curtains, painting her eyelids red. She groaned, draping an arm across her face.

Last night was a blur. She had vague memories of sharing scones with Benny and trading stories with Ophelia. They'd stayed in the rose garden until the quiet hour before dawn, their faces tipped toward the star-speckled sky.

It felt like a miracle they hadn't been caught. Cook had been making bread when they walked inside. The older woman had kept her eyes on the kitchen table, kneading herbs into the dough. A smile had slipped across her wrinkled face.

Cordelia squinted at the window. The bread would have finished baking by now. Servants had probably served warm, honey-drizzled slices to Mother in bed. Benny and Ophelia would have eaten with Father in the breakfast room, dark circles under their eyes. Had they missed her? Would Ophelia continue acknowledging her, or had they faded to strangers with the rising sun?

Cordelia was in no hurry to find out.

She rubbed her forehead, fighting off an impending headache. Her gaze landed on the trunk beside her desk, and the pain grew sharper. Part of her had hoped yesterday's important announcement was a dream, but it seemed she wasn't so lucky. Her parents really did want to send her to a convent.

A series of knocks rang at her door. Cordelia straightened her sleeves. She'd collapsed into bed after parting ways with Benny and Ophelia, not bothering to change out of her dress. The rumpled green fabric had seen better days, although she supposed that was bound to happen after a race in the rain and a late-night foray through a rose garden.

"Come in," she called, gathering her blanket around her chest.

Hannah slipped into the room. She carried a silver tray with a teapot and a matching teacup. A slice of fresh bread accompanied the tea set.

Cordelia's mouth watered.

"I hope I didn't disturb your rest," Hannah said, closing the door behind her. "I would have waited longer, but your mother grew concerned when you didn't emerge from your room." Her voice lowered, and she gave Cordelia a conspiratorial smile. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she's worried you've fled the manor. She muttered something about you being halfway across the country by now."

"Leaving Mother's presence will be a travesty, indeed," Cordelia said. "I can't wait to hear her farewell speech. I'm sure she's been practicing for weeks."

Hannah set the tray on the dressing table. Her fingers flitted over vials of rosewater and pots of face cream. She picked up one of the pots, looking between Cordelia and the pale cream. "In that case, perhaps we ought to spend extra time getting you ready. We still have four days until your carriage departs. Your mother might think twice about sending you away if you look like a proper lady."

Cordelia eyed the beauty products. "Do you think changing my appearance will make that much of a difference?" she asked.

Hannah exchanged the face cream for a necklace. She held it up, checking it against Cordelia's eyes. "It will once wealthy suitors start calling on you."

Cordelia choked on her tea. The teacup rattled in its saucer as she scanned the room for the nearest exit. Was it too late to climb out the window?

Hannah disappeared into Cordelia's wardrobe and returned with an armload of dresses. A familiar twinkle shone in her eyes. "Trust me, by the time I'm finished, Mr. Ingram and his friends won't be able to take their eyes off you."

Cordelia's skirt swished around her legs as she walked between the trees. Hannah had helped her into her nicest day dress—a cream-colored number sewn from soft silk. The maid had said something about its gathered neckline pairing well with a braided crown, and she'd insisted on weaving Cordelia's fanciest hairpins among the strands. White crystals glittered among her dark tresses.

Even Cordelia's face had received attention. Hannah had darkened Cordelia's eyebrows with crushed elderberries and tinted her lips with carmine. She'd offered to soften Cordelia's skin with egg whites and honey, but Cordelia had drawn a line. Slathering food over her face seemed like the point of no return.

Besides, Cordelia liked to feel the breeze upon her skin. She tipped her head back, soaking up the sunlight dappling the path. If she were in a fairytale, this was the part where a prince would emerge from the trees. He'd sweep Cordelia into his arms and carry her to some faraway kingdom. He'd make her his princess—his equal in all things.

But this wasn't a fairytale, and Cordelia knew better than to pin her hopes on a true love that might never come.

Her hand brushed her leather satchel. She'd traded Grandfather's weather log for the unopened letter. She'd considered reading it while Hannah braided her hair—after all, the maid had befriended servants in several prominent households and might be able to help—but thought better of it. She wasn't sure she could bear Hannah's pity if this were a rejection letter.

Grandfather's weather cabin emerged from the trees. Ivy climbed its familiar wooden sides, and its glass windows sparkled in the morning sun. A thin wisp of smoke drifted from the chimney, curling into the sky.

Cordelia frowned. That was odd. Grandfather was attending business in London—he shouldn't be back for another week. Perhaps a servant had decided to brave Grandfather's wrath and clean the cluttered cabin. Grandfather didn't take kindly to people handling his equipment.

The door swung open at her touch. The cabin was quiet but for the pop and crackle of logs in the hearth. A lone figure sat at the table farthest from the door, drawing on a piece of parchment. He glanced up when she stepped inside.

Grandfather looked as tired as Cordelia felt. Dark circles bloomed under his eyes, and his clothes were wrinkled from travel. Still, his lips lifted in a weary smile when he saw her.

"It's wonderful to see you, Cordelia." He nodded towards the empty chair across from him. "Will you keep me company?"

Something squeezed in her chest. It shouldn't mean anything that he wanted her to stay, and yet....

"I'd love to," she said.

Grandfather returned to his drawing. The lines were slowly coming together to form a sketch of a new anemometer. He added notes along the margins, describing changes to the original design.

Cordelia thought back to when she was younger, and Grandfather had let her draw on the edges of his papers. Her favorite part was when she got to create borders for his maps. She'd spent hours adding details to her ferocious sea monsters and miniature ships. When Grandfather had asked where she'd traced them from, Cordelia had told him the designs came to her, and it was only a matter of putting them to paper. He'd given Cordelia her first set of paints that Christmas, and she'd been creating art ever since.

"If you're looking for new maps to embellish, I have one in my bag," Grandfather said. "This one charts constellations. You might recognize a few. There's Andromeda, Cassiopeia, and Pegasus, among others."

"Benny would love a map like that," Cordelia mused.

Grandfather lifted his quill. "I know. I thought you could give it as a parting gift if you're intent on following through with this nunnery nonsense."

The squeeze in her chest grew tighter. "I didn't realize...."

"I left London as soon as I heard," Grandfather said. His fingers stiffened around the quill, and his lines grew darker. "I have half a mind to write to the abbess myself, but I thought it would be best to speak with you first."

Cordelia swallowed. Her tongue felt heavy, leaden with words she didn't dare speak. It hardly mattered. Grandfather had a way of reading people. He could always tell what she was thinking, even when she tried to hide it.

"You belong in this family," Grandfather continued, "and you deserve happiness. Don't settle for the nunnery unless that's the life you want." He nodded at her cream-colored dress and crystal hairpins, so similar to what she used to wear before the accident. "But you already know that. I imagine you came here for something other than weather measurements and the ramblings of an old man."

"I'd hardly consider our conversation a waste," Cordelia said. "Besides, I like spending time here. It's nice to have someplace quiet where I can think. Yesterday's announcement was... surprising."

"Surprising, but not unwanted?" Grandfather asked. His glasses caught the sunlight as he looked up from his diagram. "Does that mean you intend to go?"

"No!" Cordelia said. "No, I'm—I'm heartbroken that Mother and Father didn't ask for my opinion. I don't want to become a nun, and I don't want to leave Benny and Ophelia behind. But..." She sighed. Her voice sounded raw, like rocks scraping in the surf. "I don't want my decision to tear our family apart, either."

Grandfather leaned back in his chair. "An impossible choice," he surmised.

Cordelia nodded. Her eyes dropped to the table, taking in his half-finished diagram. He was trying to find a new way to measure wind speed, one that didn't rely on a metal pole connected to four cups. But the pole was part of the design's foundation. If he removed it, there was a chance he'd ruin everything.

"Those decisions are the hardest to make," Cordelia said softly. "The ones that everything else is built upon."

Grandfather's gaze dipped to the letter poking out of her satchel. "I know it can be scary, but if you had a good reason to leave, I would hope you'd pursue it."

Cordelia said nothing. She twisted her skirt between her fingers, ignoring his probing gaze.

"Cordelia," Grandfather said.

She sighed. "I know, but Benny and Ophelia—"

"Will be fine," Grandfather finished. "Benny will inherit the estate, and Ophelia appears quite besotted with Mr. Ingram. I'd be surprised if she's still 'Miss Williams' by the end of the season." Grandfather paused, looking around the cabin. "I forget sometimes how quickly people grow up. I suppose it's a good reminder."

"Of what?" Cordelia asked.

"That if you have an opportunity to do something you love, you should take it." He nodded towards her satchel. "Don't give up on something you might regret. Decide where you want your life to go before you set off to a nunnery."

Cordelia turned the words over in her mind, fitting them together like puzzle pieces. Decide where you want your life to go before you set off. That was the trouble, wasn't it? She knew what she wanted, but it didn't seem possible that a girl like her could have it. The accident had already ruined so much in her life. It'd fractured her friendships, alienated her from high society, and destroyed any hope of an advantageous marriage.

But had Cordelia really wanted any of those things? Her friends had always been more invested in the latest gossip than her company, and they'd disappeared within weeks of the accident. Did Cordelia really want to be friends with people that shallow? And why had she been so eager to give what little freedom she had to men she'd known so little about? Suitors could fake mild temperaments and polite manners for the season but become something else behind closed doors. There was nothing romantic about marrying a near stranger.

She pulled out the letter, admiring its creamy envelope. The accident had ruined her family's hopes for her, but it'd also brought her dreams within reach. Cordelia just had to be brave enough to claim them.

"I've been exchanging letters with the headmistress of Avercroft," Cordelia admitted. "It's a boarding school that specializes in teaching children with disabilities. Every child is welcome there."

"A noble endeavor," Grandfather commented.

"I thought so, too. The boarding school is looking for a mythology and art instructor. I sent a few samples of my paintings with my last correspondence. This letter... it'll reveal whether I've been accepted."

"And?" Grandfather prompted.

Cordelia slid her fingernail through the envelope's seal. She unfolded the letter, scanning its elegant script. A few phrases jumped out, but they were the usual pleasantries. She skipped to the second paragraph, which started with, "We were impressed by your work" and ended with "pleased to extend an invitation."

Cordelia looked up. "I got in," she breathed.

Grandfather released a sigh. It made him look lighter, softening the dark circles under his eyes and the worry lines etched across his forehead.

"If I do this, I'm going to need your help," Cordelia continued. "I want to set up something special for Benny and Ophelia. A scavenger hunt of sorts. Something they can remember me by while I'm gone. Will you help me?"

Grandfather looked at the manor in the distance, silhouetted by the sun. A slow smile slid across his face. "When do we start?"

Chapter word count: 2,170

Total word count: 12,506