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rosesnink · 3 hours ago

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Congrats, Liz, mon amie! You deserve it 🫶🏼

It's finally time for what you all have been waiting for! Yep, time to reveal our newest Creator of the Month!! (Drumroll, please) Please, put your (figurative) hands together and welcome Liz, aka @reneedenoailles, as the new Creator of the Month!! Our team would like to give her huge congratulations!! She is someone who has been in the fandom for a while, and her hard work, resilience and dedication to telling her stories—and such wonderful stories at that—to the world are something we admire a lot! She was also a mod of the confessions blog and is now a very helpful addition to the Catalog team as well! ❤️ She found RC by accident, but we are so happy she did, because how else would we have got to see her amazing work? Underneath the page break, you will find, as always, a short interview with the winner.

💬INTRODUCE YOURSELF!

Hi!! I'm Liz <33 Some of you probably have already seen me around the fandom, I'm a relatively active member! I'm 20 years old, I'm an English student & I love hanging around here in my spare time. My favourite stories are (of course) Vying for Versailles, Theodora, Shakespeare's Code & Soulless, and my favourite LIs include Maria Theresa (VFV), Jack (TDR), John (THE), and plenty more!

💬WHEN AND HOW DID YOU DISCOVER ROMANCE CLUB? WHAT DREW YOU IN, AND WHAT MADE YOU STAY?

So, it's actually a funny story. I discovered it when I was in high school—me & a friend were sat in the back of the class, and we were bored—so, we decided to check out those VN apps that have ads of them online, and come to find out, one of them's RC! The first story we tried was VFV—of course—and while she didn't stick, I actually ended up playing it at home, but as it only had one season, I ended up playing OTI (who also only had one season then) & forgetting about it. A lot of time later, I remember it and decide to see what the app is up to, and so then I played it right on the January update, and since, I've been hooked & joined the Tumblr fandom right away!

💬HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN CREATING? WHAT FIRST SPARKED YOUR PASSION FOR IT?

I frankly don't remember. I do think I tried my shot at Wattpad fame at 13, and it was BAD. But I do think writing's always been my passion, I've always felt a certain calling to it, to words especially. And since then, writing's always been my thing to do.

My first ever RC fic was They Behead Valets, Don't They? which I actually wrote in class last year instead of listening. Looking back now, I could definitely improve it, but I think I was so starry-eyed when I first published it because it was my first way of putting myself out there!

💬DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR FIRST EVER CREATION?

Oh my god, unfortunately, I do, it was complete plagiarism. It was a full English translation of a book series I liked, but the characters were all replaced with characters from a TV show I liked.

I must've been about 13! Luckily, I gave up, like, one page in, but that was definitely something. Little Liz did not know what plagiarism was, lmao.

💬DO YOU HAVE ANY RITUALS OR HABITS WHEN YOU CREATE?

I try to listen to music that fits the vibe of the story! Usually, I try to associate a specific song to whatever I'm writing, so I can loop it, but if I can't or just don't feel like looping, I generally just listen to stuff that I could see playing out for the fic. I also try to make sure I'm hydrated & not hungry, so I don't interrupt myself.

💬IS THERE A PIECE OF ADVICE YOU WOULD GIVE TO YOUR YOUNGER SELF? OR TO READERS?

To middle school me: WRITE. LONGER. CHAPTERS. 1-minute reads do not keep your 3 Wattpad readers from the other side of the globe hooked, Lizzie!!!!!!

To anyone else: do not feel embarrassed to publish! Whether it be art, writing, edits, whatever you create! I get it can be a bit scary, especially when you're new in a fandom, but you totally should go for it!

💬CHOOSE 3-5 OF YOUR FAVOURITE WORKS AND RAMBLE AWAY!

(1) The Lonely Fall of a Royal Mistress: A Most Lamentable Tragedie [Renée de Noailles x Louis XIV]

okay, this fanfic... this was a result of me brainstorming a lot and LET ME TELL YOU this took MONTHS to complete & i think it shows. this absolute monster of a fic who ultimately came out just how i wanted it to. this piece was inspired also because at the time i was listening to a lot of like. sad music, so that really just fueled me you know. i believe i started writing it last year ? anyway this piece is extremely personal to me and i love it so very dearly !! fun little fact, this was actually supposed to end a little differently, with victoire's execution, but i decided it would hit harder if i didn't show her being executed.

(2) Un Désir Assassin [Renée de Noailles x Alexandre Bontemps]

soooo this one was kind of a comeback ? the valentines' event inspired me, i actually had more ideas coming up but the hit of uninspiration hit me. either way, this was something that i had thought of for a while, thanks to headcanons & such ! as you guys may have seen i have a very Random uploading schedule, but i'm trying to work on it 😔

(3) Infidélité [Renée de Noailles x Madame de Montespan]

this is why i love catalog prompts they're always a good way to get inspired <3 this is more self-indulgent smut partly because a) i wanted to show i can write more than angst and b) i love crackships / more underrated pairings, and i wanted to write up something for my girl julie <3 this is a piece i look to with a lot of joy :)

(4) The Azure Letter [Lane x Anna]

pride month so i chose to wrote these two ! i was actually super nervous about writing & even moreso posting it, since i had never written for hsr before. i think subconsciously i also wanted to show that i could write more than one story - also i just didn't have much inspiration for vfv. i wanted to keep the essence of what sasha had written - especially for lane's character - but i still wanted to appropriate it and make it mine. and i think i did a pretty good job ! though i don't know if topping sasha's a big achievement…

(5) The Highs Without the Lows [Lane x Greg]

my newest & freshest baby ! i've noticed there wasn't much greglane content at all, so i felt like gracing them with a big oneshot ! they deserve it <3 much more on the lighthearted side, this is definitely one of if not my favorite piece i've ever written & i hope you guys like it as much as i do ! fun fact, my main idea was "gas station chaos" while writing - and while brainstorming, i was having several ideas, such as an abomination bursting through the gas station or something, but this is what i came up with eventually !

Once again, congratulations Lizzie! 🌹

#romance club #creator of the month

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rosesnink · 3 days ago

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This was such a beautiful, fun and tragic piece, amiga!!! You painted such a fiery, honest and unabashed Lydia, believe it or not, I see Ernest in her, in a way. I loved getting to know her, and she would've loved Bea to pieces 🥹🤍

Amazingly done, my friend! 🤍

Lydia (an Unspoken Desires' Story)

Book: Desire & Decorum

Series: Unspoken Desires (Modern Desire & Decorum AU)

Summary: “A woman’s heart is a deep ocean of secrets” (Gloria Stuart). This extra chapter is a sneak peek over Lydia Sinclaire’s life through her own words.

Characters: Ernest Sinclaire; Lydia Sinclaire. The mentioned characters belong to Pixelberry. No copyright infringement intended.  Other original OC’S are mentioned.

Word Count: +/- 5246

Rating: General, but mentions to infertility issues and light lemons.

Notes: 💖English is not my first language. Please, excuse me for any typos /or grammatical errors. There was no beta reader this time. 💖 This is my submission for @choicesficwriterscreations ‘Fics of the week’ 💖 This bonus chapter is dedicated to my dear friend @missameliep who has inspired me as a writer and as a woman since we met. (Mesmo que o Oceano Atlântico nos separe, estás sempre no meu coração, querida amiga. Que sejas sempre feliz e abençoada!)

Ernest was in the library for hours looking for the book Beatrice had asked to lend her Apparently, she was writing an essay for extra credits. She told him about wanting to do two degrees at the same time. Even though she was smart and hard-working, Ernest had doubts that she would go through with this plan. But he also didn't think he had the right to discourage her.

Before the fire...before the works, Ernest knew how Ledford Park library was organized by heart. After all, he and Mrs. Lewis had spent weeks doing the last major cataloguing and sorting.

Now, under the dusty sheets, no shelf was in its place and the books seemed to have all been switched places.

Thinking he had found what he was looking for, Ernest moved some books. He didn't find the book he was looking for, however, Ernest found something he had never noticed before. That shelf seemed thicker than the others. He tapped his fingers on the wood and it sounded hollow.

Ernest removed all the books. The shelf was indeed different from the others. Could it be some secret compartment? Ernest ran his fingers along the edge of the wood, searching for some kind of button or lock. He found a tiny lock in the corner of the bottom shelf.

Praying that the series' plots were correct, he used a paper clip to try to open it. After turning the lock many times, he heard the magical ‘click’ sound. However, nothing happened.

Frustrated, he shook the shelf and it gave a little. It then occurred to him that the shelf could be some a kind of inverted built-in drawer. Beatrice would have loved that, but there was no time to call her.

With his fingertips on the edges, he pulled the shelf out. It was a little stiff, but a final pull left the inside exposed.

Inside, he saw some old notebooks. When he randomly opened the first page of one of them, Ernest realized that they were his mother's journals.

He couldn't hold back the tears. For years he had begged for scraps of information from his mother. A ten-year-old child cannot absorb much information, don't even think about making questions to gather information for the future. Mother is mother and all that matters for a child. Despite the disappearance of the photographs, Ernest did not forget her face because he insisted on drawing her again and again over the years. He remembers how much he loved her and how loved he felt by her.

However, he has always craved to know the woman behind the role. He felt an enormous longing for what he hadn't experienced with her, for what he hadn't discovered about her. It was impossible to ask his father anything. Mrs. Lewis was giving some information, but always in a whisper.

James had brought him some photographs of the younger Lydia, but he didn't know much else to help either. Due to family problems, Lydia had only sent him a few letters and gifts.

There were quite a few notebooks. In the past, there should have been one journal per year. Some were from before he was born, others more recent. Some years were missing, some had torn pages and another was even half burned. They were possibly rescued from their father's blind grief (probably by Mrs Lewis).

They may not be the complete puzzle, but there were a lot of pieces there. Ernest gathered them carefully and carried them to the bedroom.

Mrs. Lewis caught him in the hallway. "Is that what I think it is?" Mrs. Lewis was surprised to see the old journals.

“I think so.”

“How did you find them?”

“Looking for another book, I noticed that one shelf was different from the others. It intrigued me. I opened it with a paper clip.”

“I should have told you about them a long time ago. However, it never seemed like the right time. And with all this confusion of fire...of the works at home, I myself was no longer sure where they were hiding. Or where is the key. At the time, your father had lost his lucidity. I saved what I could.”

“You took a big risk back then. I don't know how to thank you.”

“I know you must be dying of curiosity, but are you sure you want to read them now?”

“Why not?”

“I'm not just saying this for the sake of privacy or for being prude. I don't know what's written there, but I'm sure your mother was as frank in her writing as she was in person. You will certainly find very interesting things...nevertheless, there is always the chance that you will find something that will tarnish the portrait of her that you have crystallized in your heart.”

“Thank you for your concern. However, I have lived with the fantasies of a ten-year-old for a long time. I need these puzzle pieces more than ever. Getting to know her better, I think I can open up a new part of myself.”

“I understand.” Mrs Lewis resigned herself.

“Still, I understand your point, Constance. Maybe I need some stains on my painting. I might also find some good details to add to it.”

“No matter what you find out on those pages, always remember two things: your mother was always madly in love with your father and loved you above all else."

Ernest locked himself in his room. Happy, excited, curious, apprehensive, he spent the rest of the day and all night reading them.

Given her studies, on some pages she often mixed English with Scottish Gaelic. It would not be by chance that Lydia had chosen call her confidant ‘Ianellus’, the goddess of fertility and love.

Mrs. Lewis was right. His mother was an open book to her journal.

The oldest ones started when she was teaching at the university. It was around this time that she met his father.

I - Excerpt from Lydia's Journal

Dear Ianellus,

I'm meeting him tomorrow. He invited me to dinner and I, without thinking properly, accepted. I should be preparing my speech at the conference, the one I have dreamed to give since I put a foot on that university, but I read one line and spend the next three thinking about him. I have had crushes and boyfriends but what this City guy is doing with my head is ridiculous!

Silly me, I have not told you yet who is he. Well, not that I know much either. I know his name is Matthew Sinclaire and is here accompanying a friend who came to attend the conferences. His friend is a history lover, while he feels more comfortable with numbers. Even so, he told me that he has sponsored archaeological explorations. I suspect it was just to try to impress me.

Isobel saw us in the pub and told me he's one of those London businessmen that occasionally (which means every week) stars in one or another scandal in the tabloids for his rake life, attending parties weekly, always with different company. She even knew the value of his fortune! As if that had any interest to me.

He indeed does have this aura of the rich man, used to having what he wants and whoever he wants. However, he was nothing but kind and respectful. He seemed genuine. I must confess I am intrigued. As a girl raised around brothers and cousins, I think I have some qualifications to discern when a guy is being sincere or not. He also tried to be funny. Some say it's a sign of good intentions.

Let's see how dinner goes. Even we eventually have some fun, I don't have time to waste on silly seducing games. I will make him reveal his intentions right from the start. As handsome as he is, I'm not going to risk starring a scandal in the newspaper with him. My place cost me too many hours of study and cold mud on my body to lose everything for a charming smile.

And if he really is as they say, I won't be the one to fix him, no matter how much the butterflies fly in my stomach. If he really wants something more, he'll have to fix himself. Or my grandfather's shotgun will fix him for good.

This confirmed the stories he had heard. It wasn't a romanticized narrative to make the family story look good. Theodore and Vincent used to tell stories of their youth with Matthew, and, comparing the young Matthew with the man he knew, his father had changed a lot for his mother. Reading about these changes, made him understand why their bond was so intense and led his father to a Victorian mourning.

II - Excerpt from Lydia's Journal

Three days have passed since this happened, Ianellus, however, I didn't even have the courage to tell you what happened earlier, not even to you, a sheet of paper that listens without judging. In fact, with this confession to you, I want to bury this nightmare.

I was in the drawing room, trying to review my new book, but instead of the letters, my eyes were fixed on the clock hands. The sound the clock makes at each minute that passes, pokes my agony.

According to the doctor, today is one of those days. They are marked on our bedroom, in a calendar, as if they were sacred holydays.

Around teatime, Matthew arrived home. He called me earlier saying he would bring some special Chinese tea that someone told him would help. He also said that he spent the day drinking a special infusion. I don't know if it's true or if it was just to make me feel better.

I can't understand why this is happening to me. For generations and generations, my family's homes have been full of children. I've lost count of the tests we've had, the doctors we've seen.

At least he's not one of those husbands who puts all the blames on me. Other women are not so fortunate in this misfortune. If I lived in another time, I could blame you for my situation, dear Ianellus. Maybe it would be easier if we could blame someone.

As promised, he brought the providential tea. I peeked into the teapot. There seemed to be a whole meadow of herbs inside. It wasn't the worst thing I've ever had, but I had to drink it slowly so I wouldn't get nauseous.

I can tell he's thinking about that damn calendar too. Ideally, we would have to do it at a certain time, but the doctor assured us that it is on the scheduled days that is important.

We drank and ate in silence most of the time. The elephant in the room was made of crystal. We just dared to pronounce a couple of trivial phrases.

As is always the case on these days, my dinner was a mix of supposedly “stimulating” things. However, when it was time for dessert, I lost my patience and asked the cooker make me a steak.

I could tell right away that Mathew didn't like it, but he didn't dare to contradict me, in the hope that I would remain calm. 'The calmness' that everyone claimed I needed to have was disappearing day by day.

I filled the bathtub with water and foam and disappeared for a moment in the scented cloud. Coming to the surface, I took a deep breath. I wanted this as much as he did. I tried to focus on that dream. I closed my eyes and imagined it. For a split second, it was like I felt our dream in my arms.

When I got back to the bedroom, Matthew was already there waiting for me, sitting in the armchair. I didn't even bother to put anything on. I threw the bathrobe somewhere and sat on his lap.

He didn't kiss me right away. He still has patience to tease me and I accept it. His lips travelled all the way down my neck. He never tires of telling me against my skin how much he loves me.

Tonight, his scent, which I had always loved, entered my nose, taking my breath away, but not in the usual way. It was like it was suffocating me.

So, I kissed him in an attempt to breathe for a few moments. Kissing my husband is still one of the few things that gets my blood flowing.

Without breaking the kiss, I felt him lift me up and guide us to the bed, laying me down gently.

Following my natural instinct, I unbuttoned his shirt. Since one of the buttons was difficult to undo, I ended up ripping it off. Matthew found it funny, but for me it was an attack of pure frustration.

The more layers of clothing he removed, the more tense I began to feel.

My husband kissed every inch of my body; however, I didn’t react. There weren’t goosebumps. It didn’t ignite my fire as usually.

Then, I kissed him over and over and over again, hoping that focusing on him would bring anything to the surface.

Matthew tried to wrap my body around his. I felt he was getting ready. It would be a matter of minutes.

Though, I couldn’t move. I knew very well what was coming next. What had brought me supreme pleasure for years was now scaring me to death. As I was feeling him closer, I felt like I was being buried alive. I knew it was a trick of my mind; however, as he gently knocked at my gates, my body was closing itself off. Mathew tried gently, but it felt like a stab. Of course it was my mind tricking me, but my pain was real.

It would be one more attempt, one more agonizing wait, one more disappointment...or another painful loss. Flashes of the last time blinded me for seconds. So much blood, so much pain...

Without thinking, I used all my strength to push him away, making my husband fall off the bed. Shocked by my own behaviour, I began to cry uncontrollably. I didn't even have the discernment to see if Matthew was okay.

‘Leave me alone! I’m not a clockwork woman!” I remember yelling that at him.

Of course, I love Matthew and still desire him, but not like this!

I fled to the other bedroom. I don't know for how long I cried. I felt really cold, but I was too frightened to move. Scared of my reaction, of what Matthew would think of me after what happened, thinking about what would happen from then on.

I don't know how long later, Matthew entered on my private bedroom. I tried to send him away. Instead of leaving, he wrapped a blanket around me.

He didn't try to touch me. He just took my hand and kissed it tenderly. “I love you, Lydia. Forever. It doesn't matter what happens or doesn't happen. My love for you only changes to become deeper and greater.”

He did that all night long, until we fall asleep exhausted.

Without speaking any words, we decided to stop that torture. The calendar disappeared. We would continue to love each other as much as we wanted, whenever we wanted.

If it didn't come from within us, life would find us someone who needed our love.

Ernest had heard about the fertility problems. However, reading about his mother suffering in the first person was heartbreaking. They had made great sacrifices to bring him into the world, and Ernest was more grateful than ever for that. Ernest felt this as an encouragement to continue with his plans. His parents' sacrifice would not be in vain.

III - Excerpt from Lydia's Journal

Sorry, dear old friend, for the short lines in the previous pages, but I’m living a magical era of my life.

After fighting sleep for a few minutes, there he is, sleeping peacefully. My dream came true, Ianellus! I'm taking advantage of his nap to update you.

At first, Matthew was a little disappointed that he didn't have my fiery hair, but it soon passed to him when an old nurse told him that the baby seemed to be the perfect blend of both of us. I know I'm biased, but he's an extremely cute baby. I was expecting a bald baby like my brothers, but he was born with his head already covered in curls. I have to control myself not to play with them all the time. Despite he was born blonde, now his hair is turning a light caramel shade. Add that to his chubby features, Matthew swore he is a cherub.

My husband takes pictures of the baby and us every day. I think the photographer must be sick of our faces. Although I want to wait until the baby is a little older, he is already looking for a classical painter to portray our family.

He's been calm since day one. At night he is a little demanding with breastfeeding times, waking up like he had a clock inside him. Fortunately, he falls asleep easily after it. During the day, he fights sleep a bit, but ends up taking good naps. When he's awake, he wants all our attention. He seems to have been born wanting us as much as we want him because he is only happy in our laps.

Mrs Lewis says that 'If babies weren't meant to be carried around, God would have made them know how to walk already'.

The paediatrician disagrees and says we have to get him used to being in the crib and then on the floor (of course Matthew made instal the ultimate baby park on the nursery). She also says that my milk is nutritious and that I shouldn't let him breastfeed from both breasts, but those greyish blue eyes ask me for more and I can't say no. She visits us every day since he was born, and Matthew hired two full-time nurses for constant support. He panics if a fly dares to enter the nursery.

On the one hand, I would like that he was a baby for a long time. He changes every day and all the mothers tell me that in the blink of an eye my baby will turn into a boy. On the other hand, I can't wait to see him grow up. I'm so curious to find out what personality he'll have, what he'll like most, what he'll study, who he'll love... I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with my son!

After a big fight this morning (so loud that we woke him up), we finally reached an agreement on the boy's full name - Ernest Mathew Alfred William. I know, I didn't achieve my dream of having my own Fritzwilliam, but William is also a beautiful name and, after all, it's the name of a future king.

This reminds me that we have to start preparations for the christening ceremony. Ernest will turn two months next week. Of course, Matthew wants a ceremony and a party fit for royalty, but despite I’m feeling beyond happy and blessed, I'm more inclined towards a simple ceremony and a lunch with just the closest ones.

As I told you, since I announced that I was pregnant, I feel more distant from my family.

Initially, I thought it was all in my head caused by the hormonal changes. However, since Ernest was born, no one has taken the initiative to call or write a letter.

During the first month, some gifts arrived, but they were mostly from more distant family members rather than from close family members. I have tried to call to my brothers and sisters-in-law. When they deign to answer the call, the conversations are short and they don't even ask about the baby.

It breaks my heart that Matthew may have reason in what he says and that it's not just his bitterness talking. My husband claims my family was not happy about the pregnancy, as they expected me to make James my heir.

"They want to secure Scotland's lands and try to get their nose in here." Matthew repeats it many times, but I don't want to believe it even though the evidence is piling up. I don't want to believe that my happiness is worth less than the stones of a castle. I hope not…but maybe do.

I take the following oath here, in his cradle: my son was born rich by luck, but I will not allow any trace of greed or stinginess to enter his heart.

Ernest just sneezed, making his chubby cheeks quiver like jelly, but thankfully he didn't wake up.

I'm still amazed at how I got pregnant and how he's here with me. Sometimes I'm afraid of going to sleep and waking up and realizing it was a dream that vanished into thin air. Often, we both fall asleep around the crib, looking at our little boy.

Although I know that God does not interfere in these matters, I pray that other women will have the same luck as me or that they will somehow find a child to love.

Even though we have Ernest, I still dream about a full house. When he gets a little older, Matthew and I have to seriously talk about adopting a child...or two.

With love,

Lydia Sinclaire

Ernest smiled at the thought of the possibility that this might have come true. In addition to the brothers' friendship, perhaps a fuller house would have eased or at least distracted them from the pain of the tragedy.

IV - Excerpt from Lydia's Journal

Dear Ianellus,

Last night we went to bed so late (the sun was about to rise) that I was only now able to sit down so we could be alone.

As I complained a few weeks ago, Matthew decided to throw a party at The Trafalgar St. James. Not that I don't like parties. However, I still don't understand his need to organize huge parties. I tell him it's vanity; he replies that it's an investment. He hired an event planner to ensure it would be a lavish party and invited an absurd amount of people, including members of the royal family. Nevertheless, I will not be a hypocrite and say that I do not enjoy good things.

My body has never been the same since Ernest was born, but I found a dress that made me feel like a goddess (Matthew praised it profusely and whispered that he couldn't wait to take it off me later).

Before we left for the party, we had a fight because I insisted on taking Ernest with us and Matthew insisted to her that it was better for him to stay home with babysitters. Of course I didn't allow it. I only stay away from my son for as long as is absolutely necessary. He’d stay in the hotel with us.

Before the party started, Matthew insisted that we go to the kitchen and backstage to greet everyone and thank them for their service that night. I love that about him. Matthew likes people to feel good and valued for their work. Although many jobs are hidden, he doesn't like people to feel invisible. That humanity is rare among his peers and every time I see his sincerity in each greeting, I think I fall a little more in love with my husband.

I brought Ernest with us during the rounds. Though shy, he followed his father's example, shaking hands as best he could... until he managed to steal a carrot and crunch it like a rabbit.

On the backstage, we met the musicians and the singer that the event planner had told us so much about, a star about to ascend to the musical firmament, Miss Mary Howard.

I was expecting to meet a girl with diva traits. Despite looking stunning in the dress, she was wearing and there was a certain natural magnetism about her, in her eyes, in her gestures, in her voice and ways of speak, I could feel a genuine humbleness and kindness.

She seemed extremely nervous, hiding it as best she could. She tried to play with Ernest. He hid in my hair, but peeked through my strands, playing some peak-boo with her. I think it helped with her nerves and made Ernest sleepy.

Back to the party, Matthew, Theodore and other male friends were planning to torture Vincent by introducing him to pre-selected guests. They do in all events we go. As if parental pressure wasn't bad enough. I spent the night scolding them about it. That’s not how the heart works!

When I returned to the party after Ernest was asleep, Mary was already singing. Mrs. Lemay had not exaggerated. She was truly divine on stage. Her sweet yet deep voice filled the ballroom and reached our hearts. She gave life to the verses she sang.

Nearby, I noticed someone was particularly wonderstruck. Vincent didn't take his eyes off the stage, as if he was watching the eighth wonder of the world. I think he fell in love at that moment because I had never seen that look or that smile in him.

I brought this to Matthew's attention and he agreed with me. He and Theodore said they would help Vincent get closer to her, but I'm seriously worried they'll mess it up. Mary seems too smart to fall for the old tricks.

I perceived that they told him to go and try to talk to her during the break in the show.

Fearing what kind of advices they might have given him, I intercepted Vincent in the hallway, simply advising him to be the amazing man he was and not to complicate things too much.

Every now and then I think about what my life could have been like if I had fallen in love with him instead of Matthew. I think he could make me very happy, but I don't know if I could deal with his parents. With Matthew I feel free to be, to choose, to think and I know that as much as Vincent loved me his world had other rules.

I wish from the bottom of my heart that Vincent finds the love he deserves. Who knows if this Mary could be the other half of his heart that he is looking for?

When I saw Vincent singing on stage, I knew something good had happened. And he couldn't have chosen a better song to open his heart.

Before Mary's show ended, I went up to the room to check on Ernest. He was agitated, sweaty. He woke up at that moment crying uncontrollably, clinging to me as if the world were going to end. It must have been a nightmare.

I sat down in an armchair and took my breasts out. The paediatrician reprimand me for still breastfeeding him, but I don’t care. We both feel good this way and it's a good help for him to calm down or when he's sick. Ernest suckled a couple of times; however, he was so upset that he rejected them and puked the milk.

Just as desperate as he was, I came into the hallways to try and find Matthew. That's when I came across Mary. She seemed to be in a hurry to leave, but in my desperation, I was selfish and asked for help.

Mary gently took Ernest from my arms. She sang to him “I Was Born To Love You”, as she rocking him softly. The crying decreased with each verse until the little blue eyes began to close. Once the song was over, Mary hummed the melody until he returned to the world of dreams. It was pure magic.

I went back into the room and gently laid Ernest on the bed. By mere chance, I opened the curtains to see what the night was like. Looking down, I recognized Mary and Vincent walking on the sidewalk. I sent a prayer to the heavens for everything to work out.

With love,

Lydia Sinclaire

This was completely unexpected for Ernest. No one had ever told him that story. He was in Beatrice's mother's lap and was rocked by her! If it weren't for that party, the Earl would never have met Beatrice's mother. And she wouldn't exist! It was very strange to imagine life without her.

V - Excerpt from Lydia's Journal

Dear friend,

I'm in my bedroom (yes, in my private bedroom, not the one I share with my husband) and I feel like this is the longest wait of my life.

I know it's silly... really impossible, but I still followed Dominique's advice and asked Constance to go buy me a pregnancy test. Yes, a pregnancy test, Ianellus! To me, who went through hell on earth to get pregnant with Ernest. To me, who was sentenced by dozens of doctors that no other child would come out of my womb.

Resigned to our sentence, we have been having sex for years without any worries or precautions. And since Ernest was born it's been incredible. We feel completely free to explore each other.

Then suddenly some things started to change. They've been little things, but all together they're scaring me. Some days I have no appetite. In others, I feel like eating the entire pantry. There are days when a simple biscuit tastes wonderful and Sunday roast seems to have no flavour at all.

On the other night, while we were making love, I felt my breasts very sensitive. Even Matthew's loving touch was painful. It hasn't been as painful again, but the touch is sometimes uncomfortable.

For years, my period has come on time with the precision of a Swiss watch. This is the third month that my period hasn't appeared. However, I feel cramps as if it is coming. Thinking about all this makes me I sleep badly, becoming more irritable and having migraines every day. I really look like my aunt Rhona when she went through menopause.

I know I'm not exactly a maiden anymore, but it seems too early for menopause.

When I mentioned this to Domique and she suggested she might be pregnant, I laughed in her face. She got a little upset and told me not to be like Sarah who laughed at God.

“Doctors know many things. Indeed, God forbid if there were no doctors. But they still don't know everything. The human body is a box of surprises, for better or for worse. Take the test. At least you rule out that hypothesis right away.” She told me.

In conclusion, my friend, we have four hypotheses. Hypothesis number: menopause is coming. Hypothesis number two: I have a serious illness. Hypothesis number three: I'm going crazy. Hypothesis number four: by some very glorious miracle, I got pregnant.

I took advantage of the fact that I was alone and looked at my breasts in front of the mirror. In fact, they are heavier and my nipples are slightly darker…Do you really think it's possible, old friend?

Another fruit of our love? Another child to love? If I leave rationality aside and allow myself to have this fantasy, I feel a happiness that borders on madness.

For a few moments, I imagine Ernest's reaction. Would he be a jealous or protective brother? Given his personality, I think he would be the protector, especially if it were a girl.

I haven't mentioned anything to Matthew yet. I do not dare share this fantasy with him and risk disappointing him. He already realized something was going on and made me make an appointment at a clinic.

Even if the test is positive, I will only believe it is true when the doctor confirms it.

Constance just arrived. I will be back soon with some answers.

With love,

Lydia Sinclaire

Ernest had vague memories of the pregnancy. He knew his mother was pregnant, although at the time everyone avoided his questions about the baby factory. He remembers she spent a lot of time sitting or lying down and seeing his father always around her. Sometimes her mother getting upset with him because of it. From time to time, he finds himself thinking about that baby. What would the child be like? What name would the baby have? Would they be close siblings or would they be like Beatrice and Harry?

Ernest knew there was no point in martyring himself over these issues. It is true that there were still many unanswered questions. But now he could add some brushstrokes to the portrait.

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#desire and decorum #ernest sinclaire

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