Chapter 12

The morning light shone gently into the conservatory, warming the tiled floor and the high glass windows that looked out onto the gardens. I had tucked myself away there with another book that I wasn’t reading. The truth was, I liked being out here because I could see the flowers swaying in the breeze, and sometimes, if I was lucky, I’d spot the gardeners working quietly, moving about like shadows in the sunlight. 

It felt like a safe spot, far away from the bustle of the main hallways. Mr. Scott wasn’t leaving for the office today. He had mentioned last night before we both slept off that he’d be working from home, so I wanted to give him space. Still, part of me ached with the thought of him being in the house. 

I traced a finger absentmindedly across the page of my book when I caught sight of someone moving past the doorway. Mary, with her hair pulled back neatly into her usual bun, holding a small basket of folded linens, her steps quick and quiet as always. 

“Mary?” I called out. 

She stopped mid-step and turned toward me. “Yes, Sabrina?” 

I gestured for her. “Can you come in for a second?” 

She hesitated, glancing down at the basket as though she were worried about unfinished duties. But then she nodded and stepped into the conservatory, setting the basket on a nearby chair before walking closer. 

“Do you need something?” she asked, her tone polite. 

I shook my head. “Not really. I just... I wanted to talk. Sit with me for a bit.” 

Her brows lifted slightly in surprise, but she nodded and sank into the chair opposite me. She folded her hands neatly in her lap, like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. For a while, I didn’t know how to begin. The words felt like they were gathering in my chest, but they didn’t know how to arrange themselves. I chewed on my bottom lip before finally blurting out. 

“Do you think I’m being a good wife to Mr. Scott?” 

Mary blinked at me, clearly caught off guard. “That’s... quite a question, Sabrina.” 

“Well?” I leaned forward, searching her face for honesty. “Am I?” 

Her lips parted, then pressed together again. She tilted her head, studying me like she was deciding how much truth I could handle. Finally, she spoke softly. “From what I see, you’re trying. And that matters. More than you realize.” 

“Trying?” I repeated, but the word tasted bitter on my tongue. “But not succeeding?” 

Mary’s gaze softened. “You’re young. Very young. No one expects you to have it all figured out overnight.” 

I pressed the book closed in my lap and hugged it to my chest. “But he hasn’t even... wanted me.” My voice cracked slightly, and I hated how needy it sounded. “I mean, why would he marry me and not even—” I lowered my voice as I was embarrassed at what I was about to say. “—not even want to touch me.” 

Mary didn’t flinch the way I thought she might. Instead, her expression turned thoughtful. “Mr. Scott,” she began slowly, “is a man of his word. When he says something, he means it. If he’s promised you, or promised anyone, that he won’t cross a certain line... then he won’t. Taking you as his bride was something he said he would do. He always keeps to his word, and that’s what he did. That’s who he is.” 

I frowned. “But he’s my husband. Isn’t that supposed to mean something?” 

Her shoulders lifted in a quiet shrug. “It does. But marriage isn’t just about the physical, Sabrina. Now with him. He’s... different. He knows the weight of his actions, so if he’s holding back, it does not mean he doesn’t want you.” 

“Then why?” I pressed, frustrated. 

“I don’t know... maybe because he respects you, and himself.” Mary leaned forward slightly, her voice lower now. “He’s taking his time with you. And maybe you don’t see it yet, but that’s his way of showing you that you matter. That you’re not just another conquest.” 

I blinked down at the book in my arms, my throat tight. 

“I feel like I should be doing more,” I admitted. “Like I should prove myself. Learn how to be... what he needs.” 

Mary chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You sound like you think being a wife comes with a manual. It doesn’t. You don’t need to prove yourself, Sabrina. You just need to live. To learn him the way he’s learning you.” 

I exhaled sharply, trying to ease the pressure building in my chest. “But I want to. I want to be good for him. I want to... to make him happy.” 

Mary smiled, softening her sharp features. “Then stop trying so hard. Happiness doesn’t come from forcing yourself into roles you think he wants. It comes from being present in his life. From showing him you care in small ways, even when you don’t realize you’re doing it.” 

I stared at her, unsure if she was just being kind or if she really meant it. But something in her tone made me believe her. 

She straightened in her chair and suddenly clapped her hands lightly against her thighs. “Alright then. Enough of this heavy talk. You look far too serious for someone so young.” 

I blinked. “What do you mean?” 

She rose from her chair and circled around to where I was sitting. “Let me do something for you. Sit still.” 

Before I could protest, she slipped the book from my arms and set it aside. Then she loosened the pins I had haphazardly stuck in my hair earlier that morning, letting the strands fall loose around my shoulders. 

“Mary, what are you—” 

“Hush,” she said firmly, though playful. “I’m going to make your hair look decent. Don’t you want Mr. Scott to see you looking like the treasure you are?” 

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “You think he notices things like that?” 

She smirked. “Men notice more than they let on. Especially men like him.” 

With deft fingers, she began combing through my hair with a small brush she produced from her apron pocket, humming under her breath as she worked. The gentle pull of the brush felt oddly comforting. 

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting her fuss over me, until I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re going to make me spoiled, you know.” 

Mary chuckled too. “Good. Maybe then you’ll start acting like you deserve it.” 

We shared a laugh. When she finished, she stepped back with a satisfied nod. 

“There. Much better.” 

I reached up, fingers brushing over the smooth strands. “Thank you, Mary.” 

Her smile lingered as she picked up her basket again. “Anytime, Sabrina. Just remember... take your time. He is. And you’ll see soon enough what that means.” 

As she left the conservatory, I sat still for a while. My hair falls perfectly against my shoulders.