Countess Grimshaw's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Countess Grimshaw traced her finger along the pressed wheat braid in her poetry journal. Three autumns had passed since Jasper Thornfield taught her to make it at the Harvest Moon Festival. She practiced his surname with hers in the mirror when no one watched. Seventeen love letters sat as ash in her fireplace, each one burned before she lost her nerve. Her mother would faint at the thought of a countess loving a farmer. But Grimshaw wanted freedom more than titles, wanted dirt under her nails instead of jewels on her fingers. She closed the journal and pressed it to her chest. Somehow, she would find her way to him. The next morning, she slipped away from Skelington Manor before breakfast. Her bone feet clicked against the cobblestones as she walked through the awakening streets. She needed to see where Jasper lived, to picture the life she wanted. The village square opened before her, and there stood the golden fountain with its faded glory. Water trickled from its worn spouts. A few villagers gathered there with buckets and whispered conversations. She moved past them, following the road that led to the farming cottages. Her ribs pressed against her bodice as she walked faster. Then she saw it—a small cottage painted dark green with pink flowers climbing its walls. Parts of the paint had crumbled away, and the garden looked wild and free. This was the kind of place she dreamed about. Simple walls, a vegetable patch, Jasper's hands in hers at sunset. Grimshaw stopped at a golden flower pot near the roadside, its surface cracked with age. Blue flowers spilled over its rim. She pulled a folded note from her sleeve and tucked it into a gap beneath the flowers. This time, she wouldn't burn her words. This time, Jasper would know the truth. She turned back toward the manor, her heart beating fast against her bones. The first real step was taken.