"You committed a grave sin against them," Roxie guessed.

Geneva pursed her lips, but continued to keep mum. The girl had hooked her arm around hers since they started their walk through the woods and up the hill. Harry and the earl had gone ahead in a carriage with all the food they cooked to take the longer route to the Vernons. "No," Geneva said, attempting to escape Roxie's hold, but the girl tightened her arm and stayed attached to her hip.

"Maybe when you were a child, you were like us. You played a prank on them," Freda said, kicking a pebble as she walked.

"No."

"Did you hurt one of their cows?"

"Stole eggs from their hens?"

"No," she said before she let out a frustrated sigh. "All your guesses are wrong."

Roxie looked up at her with a calculating look on her face. "You're keeping an enormous secret. I saw it in your face that day Matthew carried you on his back."

"And you're both prying," Damon's voice said from behind before he tore Roxie away from Geneva's arm. "Leave Miss Geneva alone."

Roxie joined Freda ahead of them. The two hooked arms and easily shifted their topic to the new play they were writing together. Up ahead, just three dots on the road, walked Lydia, Price and Gale.

Without a word, Damon took her hand in his. He didn't have to say anything. They already talked about what may happen, and what may not, and both concluded that they should just let things be.

The journey down the hill felt surreal. She had never traveled that road, although she considered it every time she visited Windsong. She felt stupid when her legs started to shake while the rest of the Stratfords walked on with steady steps, as if they had done this hundreds of times. Which may be true, considering their relationship with the Vernons.

Just at the foot of the hill, a small village emerged. Stone fences lined the street, separating the cottages like the box of spiders Roxie and Freda once showed her. The cottages themselves were made of stone and clay, ranging from small to medium. There was also the constant noise of farm animals—chicken, ducks, cattle, pigs and even dogs.

They traversed the dirt path and arrived at a small stone cottage with a barn. Outside by the road was the earl's carriage. In the yard was a long table covered in two different cloths. Chairs of different sort and colors surrounded it. At the head sat the earl, and to his right, Theodore Vernon himself. Harry was nearby, talking to another guest.

The two men turned at their arrival. "There they are," said the earl, chuckling as Roxie and Lydia ran to him with a bunch of wild flowers they picked along the road. "Find somewhere to put it, my dears. Mrs Vernon is inside. Greet her a happy birthday."

Theodore Vernon stood and greeted Damon, and then her, Geneva, with a warm smile. "Thank you for coming. Please, find your seats. Anywhere is fine."

Geneva was quiet, her eyes glued to her father as he continued his conversation with the earl. "Feeling alright?" Damon asked, chewing on a pear he took from the center of the table.

She nodded stiffly, smiling despite the rampage in her chest. Under the table, he closed his hand over hers and squeezed as he turned to say to Mr Vernon, "Have you thought of my offer, Sir?"

The man simply laughed. "It's Matthew you should talk to."

"Well, he's been making it sound like I need to talk to you."

"You misunderstand. He is free to do whatever he wishes."

Damon's reply was drowned by the muffled chatters and laughter inside the cottage. She recognized Roxie and Freda's voice, as well as Lydia's. There was also Matthew's. And a woman's voice—not one she had heard before. One she knew even just hearing it for the first time. The voice sounded cheerful as she talked and gave orders. Her laughter in response to what Lydia said almost made Geneva stand. To go to her. To glimpse her face.

"Should we greet Mrs Vernon?" Damon asked after a while.

"You should," Harry ordered, taking a seat beside Mr Vernon.

Geneva started shaking her head, but Damon squeezed her hand and stood, taking her along with him. "Damon, I don't—"

"Just greet her," he said.

As she stumbled behind him, thousands of thoughts crossed her mind. What if Mrs Vernon recognized her? What if Matthew discovered who she was? He would surely be angry and then he would want nothing to do with her. And what of her father? Her other brothers?

Before they reached the door, two men walked out with dishes in their hands. Damon did not have to introduce them. The taller one with black hair and beard was Stephen, the brother born just a year after she was born. The one with the dark brown hair and lanky built was Jasper, born four years after Stephen.

But they didn't know she knew them from the stories Matthew and Damon told her.

"Ah, Mr Priest," said Stephen, breaking into a wide smile. "I have not seen you for so long."

"Because you've been avoiding coming up the hill, you lazy lad," said Damon laughingly, patting Stephen's shoulder.

Jasper was looking at Geneva with a curious smile on his face. "You must be the governess," he said. "Matthew has talked about you."

"He did?" she asked, her eyes jumping to Stephen, whose face turned blank at the mention of her being the governess.

"He told us about how he carried you down the hill toward Abberton House. He thought you were someone he knew because you share the same name, the fool."

Geneva could only smile. While Jasper seemed unsuspecting, Stephen continued to stare at her without a word.

"Well, Mother is inside," said Jasper.

"We'll find her," Damon said, guiding Geneva to the door.

Stephen offered an awkward smile as he walked away, and before they entered the cottage, Geneva noticed him look over his shoulder at her.

Matthew was seated around the kitchen table, which was not far from the door. Price and Gale were with them, and they were already attacking a cake with forks in hand. Roxie and Freda stood on both sides of a woman, and the three of them were looking out the window of the kitchen. Lydia was out in the garden, picking something from the ground.

"Oh, silly!" said Roxie. "Not that one, Lydia!"

"Go and rescue the poor pumpkin," said the woman, and at once, Roxie and Freda ran out through the back door and into the garden to shout at Lydia. Just as they did, the woman turned around with a laugh, and stopped when she saw them in the middle of the cottage.

Her eyes were lined with wrinkles, probably from laughing all the time, Geneva figured. Looking at her brown eyes and her wide smile, she could tell that Constance Vernon laughed a lot.

"Happy birthday," Damon greeted with familiarity as he let go of Geneva's hand and walked toward the woman. "I hope you're making more cakes because these three are almost finished with this one."

She laughed as she received Damon's hug. "I have two more hidden somewhere in the cupboards," she said with a wink. Over Damon's shoulder, her eyes landed on Geneva. "And who is this?"

"The governess I told you about," said Matthew. "The clumsy one."

Geneva shot her brother a sharp look. "It was an accident."

"Yes. And you were the first accident," said Matthew, chuckling with Gale and Price.

"Don't be rude to our guest, son," said Constance Vernon. "I'm glad you came, Miss."

"Her name's Geneva, 'Ma. I told you," said Matthew.

The woman's smile faltered for a moment at the mention of the name. "Yes, I remember."

Geneva smiled shakily. "Happy birthday, Mrs Vernon."

"Thank you," the woman said, walking toward her with open arms and pulled her into an embrace. She almost did not want to let go, but the lady did with a big smile.

"She hugs everyone," Matthew provided before he fed himself more cake.

"Even the old man," added Gale.

"And you're all banned from more cakes," Constance Vernon playfully told them. The three young men immediately slid the cake out of her reach.

"We're taking this outside," said Matthew as he stood with Gale and Price and disappeared from the kitchen.

At that moment, Lydia stumbled inside with Roxie and Freda, carrying a large pumpkin. Things did not stop moving after that. Geneva and Damon watched as her mother taught the three Stratfords what to do with the pumpkin while she took out two more cakes from the cupboards.

"Please help me decorate these," she said to Geneva. "If you don't mind."

"N-No, of course, not."

"Good."

"Mrs Vernon is the bossy kind," Damon told Geneva. "Don't give in too easily or you'll regret it."

"And you, young man, should get ale from the cellar."

"Oh, no," Damon groaned. "Why me?"

"Because you've been away from Abberton too long."

"I should have stayed in Birth then."

Constance Vernon laughed. "And where is that brother of yours? The one who enjoyed my little orders?"

Damon laughed. "In Birth hiding from you, of course."

Their laughter filled the kitchen. Damon went down to the cellar with Harry to get the keg of ale out to the lawn. Geneva barely talked with her mother because the woman had a constant flow of visitors. Guests started arriving with more food and presents, and Geneva could not even point out when the party officially started. She finished decorating the cakes with her mother, and helped her carry them out to the guests, most of them neighbors.

Finally, Constance Vernon was forced by her husband and sons to stop working and dress for her special occasion, which she did, walking out in a new blue dress made by Simone before she left for her honeymoon.

Roxie and Freda crowned her with the wildflowers they brought. She went around to chat with her guests, while the Stratfords mingled with everyone like they belonged there. Which they did. Even the earl enjoyed the ale. Harry laughed openly with her brothers, especially Stephen, who she would sometimes catch watching her with curiosity.

Damon rarely left her side, and when he did, it was because she was with comfortable company. Her mother sat with them at some point, even grabbed her hand when she got too excited about something. Geneva would listen to her every word, watch her face transform with different emotions as she talked. She was awed, and she felt like her heart would burst inside her chest when her mother laughed at a comment she made and absently patted her cheek in amusement.

Many times, she fought the urge to cry. She did not know how much Roxie and Lydia knew, but the pair seemed to always be on guard. They would ask if she was fine whenever she fell quiet, watching her mother chat with other guests, hoping she would come back and talk to her again. And she would tell the devils that yes, she was fine. She felt amazing. But she was also struggling with the different emotions raging inside her.

She was elated one moment, then frightened and guilty the next. It was a constant battle, but one she had to struggle with alone. Much later, after Harry left to take the earl home, the Stratfords also started to gather. Geneva made a comment about helping the Vernons clean up, but Stephen and her other brothers insisted that they could do it on their own. "You should all go home," said Stephen, eyes on Geneva, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you all for coming," said her mother, giving each of them a hug. Geneva waited eagerly for her turn, and when it came, she closed her eyes and inhaled her mother's scent until her lungs could take no more.

"Thank you," she said, thankful for the darkness of the night, because her eyes were suddenly brimming with tears.

The woman smiled at her and turned to Damon to give him another hug. "Thank you, my boy. And I'll talk to Matthew."

"That will be splendid. We make a good team," Damon said conspiratorially.

"And he'll make a brilliant inventor," Constance said with a wink.

While her sons and husband carried empty plates into the cottage, she watched the Stratfords and Geneva walk away. But not ten steps out, Geneva stopped. Damon did the same, looking at her with concern. "Geneva?" he asked. "What is it?"

Geneva swallowed and blinked away the tears that blurred the path before her. Blindly, she searched inside the pockets of her dress and stiffly turned. Not far away, Constance Vernon smiled at her curiously.

And as her eyes locked with Geneva's, her smile slowly faded, replaced by something akin to pain as understanding dawned on her. Somehow, it was enough for Geneva to take the hardest steps she ever had to take in her life. She walked back toward her mother, tears filling her eyes once again.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled as she took out her hand from her pocket and held out the letter. Her mother was crying, eyes and face filled with disbelief. "I hope you forgive me for not telling you sooner. Please don't let this ruin your day."

And then she whirled around and walked away.