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Spring had returned once again.
It had never really been Michaela’s favorite season. For the longest time, she adored late autumn and early winter the most. There was just something about the sudden turn to colder weather, reuniting with her family during the holidays, and a new sprinkle of snow blanketing Scottish grounds that made her heart swell.
Until John had unexpectedly died in early 1817. Then, Michaela lost interest in that time of year.
At first, Michaela didn’t have another favorite season. She enjoyed a warm summer breeze and the first spring bloom. Despite the heartache the cold brought her, she still liked freshly fallen snow in winter and a colorful landscape of leaves covering the ground in autumn. But there was nothing particularly special about any of it, not the way the holiday season used to be.
Until Francesca and the events that followed in the years to come.
Suddenly, Michaela no longer cared about cold weather because she discovered that there was a better time of year: spring.
Spring brought fresh blossoms to smell and rain to cleanse the remaining snow. It brought longer hours of daylight and butterflies bursting from their cocoons. Spring meant warm sunshine on Michaela’s face and planting new seeds in the gardens of Kilmartin to grow. Little things that Michaela had never thought about before.
Before Francesca kissed her for the first time on a rainy April day.
Before they had a beautiful May wedding, a quiet affair at the local church, with only Helen, Elizabeth, and a few Kilmartin Castle attendants. However, Michaela wouldn’t have it any other way. Once they returned to London, she was sure Violet would organize a family celebration while Kate hosted a ball in their honor, but it was lovely that their actual wedding day was quiet. It felt more intimate, more real.
And before their baby girl came home to them on a warm, mid-June afternoon.
Michaela woke up a few years later on one of those spring days, some time after the anniversary of her wedding to Francesca but before their daughter’s fourth birthday.
It was unusually early for Michaela that morning. The sun had barely begun to rise, so she knew Francesca was still asleep. Even if Francesca wasn’t such a stickler with her daily routines, Michaela could still tell based on Francesca’s steady, even breathing.
Michaela turned over to look at Francesca, and she couldn’t help but smile. For someone who thrived on order, Francesca was a messy sleeper. Her mouth hung open ever so slightly, and sometimes, there would even be a bit of drool. Francesca’s hair stuck up in odd places, and her arms were awkwardly splayed out across the bed. Whenever she snored, the noises were uneven, ranging from raucous snores to soft, heavy breathing.
But Michaela adored it all, and looking at Francesca that morning as the sun rose over Kilmartin Castle, Michaela had never felt more in love than she did at that moment.
Eventually, Francesca’s breathing quieted, and she opened her eyes to find Michaela looking at her. Francesca threw her arm over her face, pretending to be distressed. “Don’t look at me. You’re not usually awake at this hour.”
“I couldn’t sleep. Besides, you’re absolutely beautiful no matter what time of day it is.”
Francesca playfully rolled her eyes, prompting Michaela to lean over to kiss her.
Francesca eagerly returned the kiss and began maneuvering Michaela onto her back. She was just about to start trailing kisses down Michaela’s neck when their daughter interrupted them.
“Mummy! Mama!” Janet suddenly burst through the bedroom door.
Francesca and Michaela shot apart instantly. While Francesca’s cheeks turned red, Michaela laughed nonchalantly and sat up, reaching for their daughter. Janet ran to Michaela’s side of the bed, and Michaela immediately scooped her up.
“I am so sorry, my lady,” Ann, Janet’s nurse, said while scurrying in, out of breath from evidently chasing the toddler across the hall.
“It’s all right, this little one can be quite mischievous,” Michaela replied, blowing a raspberry on Janet’s cheek.
“She takes after her mother,” Francesca noted, getting out of bed and slipping on her robe. “I was never quite unruly as a child.”
“That’s untrue, and we both know it. You may have grown up to be prim and proper, but you followed in Eloise’s footsteps, engaging in whatever antics she came up with,” Michaela said. “There’s a reason your father nicknamed you ‘the accidental twins.’”
Francesca scowled before entering their closet and shutting the door.
Michaela and Janet giggled together, embracing one more time before Michaela handed her over to Ann.
“Shall we leave your mothers to collect themselves while we go fetch Martha?” Ann asked, referring to the lady’s maid. “We’ll see Mummy and Mama after they break their fast.”
Janet nodded, and then Ann excused themselves, exiting the room. Michaela sighed and stretched, gazing at the sun as it began to stream through their window.
Francesca returned moments later, dressed in her casual attire.
“You’re always dressed before Martha even gets here,” Michaela said, finally getting out of bed to obtain her robe.
“I don’t particularly need help getting dressed. Martha can focus on tidying our space while we go enjoy our morning meal.”
“It is rather early,” Michaela pointed out. “It is not even seven yet, and breakfast will not be ready for another couple of hours.”
“Yes, but I have some estate matters to attend to. Unless you’d like to join me?”
“I will meet you in the study shortly; I will just go use the chamber pot and get dressed.”
After an early morning spent in the study—most definitely not attending to estate matters—and a nourishing breakfast, Francesca and Michaela reunited with their daughter in the front hall.
“Mama, Mummy! Can we go see the pretty flowers?” Janet asked, pulling at Francesca’s skirt.
The two women laughed as Francesca scooped up Janet in her arms. “Shall we go then?”
“You two go ahead. I’d like to verify something with Mr. Jack’s papers before we meet with him tomorrow.”
Michaela smiled as she watched Francesca walk outside with their daughter before heading back to their chambers. Really, there was no need to grab Mr. Jack’s papers; they could wait until the next day. But given that Michaela and Francesca’s wedding anniversary was just a few days ago, Michaela recognized that morning marked another special occasion, another anniversary of sorts. One only she and Janet—John’s mother and their daughter’s namesake—knew about.
The piece of paper was under a false bottom in the last drawer of her dresser. It had begun to yellow just a little, and it seemed to become more wrinkled as the years went by. Michaela unfolded the paper and looked down, despite knowing what the letter already said. She had memorized Janet’s words by heart, so she didn’t even really need to read them. But Janet’s blessing in her handwriting brought Michaela a great deal of comfort, more than she could ever have imagined.
Before this letter, Michaela had already accepted she was going to hell. Not for loving a woman—she believed God made everyone in His image and could not be mistaken. Therefore, a woman loving a woman could only be natural.
But for the longest time, Michaela was convinced she was going to hell for falling in love with her cousin’s wife. It got worse when John died, and she inherited the Kilmartin title and estate. Michaela had felt as if she had taken a knife and stabbed John herself, even though he had passed due to a mysterious headache. But loving Francesca and becoming the Countess of Kilmartin? It was too much for Michaela to bear.
So she ran, spending the next two years traveling Europe before returning. Michaela never imagined in her wildest dreams that Francesca would return her feelings, but the more time they spent together, the more Michaela realized they loved one another. But even once she and Francesca got together and eventually married, Michaela was still certain she would not end up in heaven.
Until a letter from London arrived at Kilmartin a few days after their wedding. It was a letter from Janet, and for the first time since John’s death, Michaela was truly at peace.
She had already reconciled with John in her heart before she married Francesca, but part of Michaela still thought she would not see him again in whatever comes after this life, doomed to an eternal purgatory. However, Janet’s letter had changed that.
It wasn’t necessarily getting Janet’s blessing, but that definitely helped. It was the final line in her letter, imprinted on the slip of paper and in Michaela’s soul, forever.
Thank you, Michaela, for letting my son love her first.
She did not know whether it was the fact that Francesca loved both Michaela and John—albeit in vastly different ways—or Janet’s unexpectedly sweet and simple sentiment. But in that moment, Michaela realized that she, John, and Francesca shared a unique and unbreakable bond that transcended time and space. Michaela saw this bond echo in Kilmartin’s halls, filled to the brim with memories of her childhood well-spent with John. The bond was in their daughter’s eyes as she begged both her mothers for more stories involving the man in the portrait next to the one of their own family. It was unspoken and everlasting, renewed each year with the special flowers Michaela and Francesca planted for John in their garden. And this bond was so powerful that Michaela suddenly felt certain she would see John again in their next life.
Michaela re-folded the letter, placed it back in the drawer, then positioned the false bottom and closed it. She looked outside her window where she could see her daughter, wide-eyed and curious, as Francesca showed her John’s flowers growing in their garden.
Then Michaela went to join her family, the serenity in her heart in full bloom—just like a late spring day.