Angie found herself awake and rested early the next morning. It was a pleasant surprise to be able to sit up in bed by herself, especially after the emotional drama of the previous evening. Careful stretching revealed that even her legs, normally weak, but often heavy and difficult to move, were cooperative. She was sitting on the edge of the bed with her bare feet dangling just above the floor when Anne came bustling in.

The grin she gave her mistress when Angie wiggled her toes added more light to the dim room. "It looks like you're having a good morning. My heart is glad to see it, because I have been told to get you dressed for visitors later." Still smiling, Anne opened the wardrobe and began sorting through them.

Angie's smile froze before fading. "What visitors? Visitors are rare here at the house, and even more rarely are they for me. Is my husband having visitors and would like me to accompany him?" She held back from saying more, remembering that Anne had no knowledge of her conversation with Derrick the night before, and so she certainly would not know that Angie had said she would prefer to not see Derrick again.

Anne spun to face her, eyebrows raised. "For Mister Williams? Why would he have a visitor here when he has returned to his own manor?"

Angie's heart sunk to her toes. "He is not here? I just saw him last night."

"He demanded a carriage be brought at once over an hour ago, insisting that he had matters to deal with at home that could not wait." Anne winked at Angie. "I think he may be getting ready to finally take you home, now that he is feeling better."

Angie turned her head away for a moment and dashed the tears from her eyes before Anne could see them and ask questions she was not yet ready to answer. Turning back, she forced a smile to her lips and said, "Well, if I am to have company, I would like to select my own gown. Could you help me get my braces on?"

In short order, Anne had her lady attired in all of her underclothes, including a fresh chemise and lightweight petticoats, along with the braces for her legs. Angie stood by the wardrobe, fingering each dress as she considered it. Few had been worn outside of the house and so had acquired little wear.

One dress had been hung toward the back of the wardrobe, but even the visible sleeve demonstrated some wear along the cuff, as though the delicate fabric had been rubbed against a rough surface over and over. Angie pulled it out and caressed the fabric fondly. The light lavender gown had last been worn on the long journey to rescue Derrick, nearly weeks before, and while it had been laundered, there was no washing out the tiny tears and roughened threads of the adventure. Remembering the interlude alone with her husband in the dark cellar brought a blush and the threat of more tears, and she hugged the soft fabric to her chest.

The prodding of a hard object hidden in the folds of the dress made her loosen her hold on the garment, and it fell to the floor with a dull thud. Anne hurried over to pick it up, and she held it aloft so Angie could search for the unseen object. As this particular outfit was a house dress, it had two small pockets concealed in its folds, and in one of these Angie's fingers grasped the item she sought.

Pausing to ensure she had a good grip, Angie then drew the object out of the pocket. It was a large rusty key, the one she had used to unlock the cellar door. She must have put it into her pocket, and in her excitement and exhaustion she had neglected to leave it at the house when they returned home. She stroked the trio of circular holes in the bow of the key with her fingertips, absently wondering if the other keys for doors in the estate contained a similar number of punctures.

"What is that, my lady? I don't recall hearing that any of the house keys had gone missing recently," Anne asked quietly, sensitive to Angie's pensive mood.

"This is a key to a unique door," she replied slowly. "A unique door far from here that opened into a room where for a short while I believed that dreams do come true, even for someone like myself. I ought not have kept this key, for I can never return, either to the room, or to the dream I saw therein. It should be returned to its rightful home. Perhaps one day, it will unlock someone else's dreams, as it unlocked mine."

A sob caught in her throat, but she refused to release it. She swallowed hard and walked carefully to the writing desk near the window. Anne hurried to hang the dress back in the closet and arrived at the desk herself just in time to assist Angie to sit carefully on the small chair. Angie set the key gingerly near the upper edge of the desk and set to writing a letter:

My beloved Derrick,

You have been my dream since we were children, and you will be my dream until the day I leave this earth. I was privileged to live my dream a short while, and I will hold my memories of these past weeks close in my heart. I do not regret any part of our courtship and marriage, save that it has to end so soon. I pray you recover fully and find a new duchess with all haste, that your inheritance might return to you. I wish nothing but happiness and blessings on you, my love.

As I prepare myself to separate from you forever, I have discovered that I inadvertently carried the key to your prison away with me in my pocket. In the bright light of day, I see that it is flawed and old, but in my mind I see it only as the means of releasing you from a place where you would surely have withered slowly away, and the comparison to our current situation seems apt. Therefore, I send this key to you, to do with as you like.

I free you from the prison of a marriage that would rob you of all you deserve: your title, your wealth, your family home, a healthy wife, and children. I free you from the burden of guilt, for you are blameless. I free you from the chafing restriction of even friendship; I will refrain from further correspondence.

Let this be goodbye, dear man. Goodbye, and good tidings, always.

Yours, Angie

Her hands were shaking as she folded the letter carefully around the heavy key, and she fumbled a little while sealing it. She paused to dash the tears from her cheeks before addressing the missive in her very best script, being sure not to smear the ink with her tears. Once blotted, she handed the packet to Anne.

"Please see that this gets to Williams Hall with all haste," she whispered. Anne rested a hand on her shoulder briefly before hurrying out of the chamber. Angie held in her tears until she had restored all of her writing tools to their proper places and then sat staring at nothing as teardrops ran silently down her cheeks to drip onto her clasped hands.

At Anne's return, she remembered the mention of guests, and years of training in the rules of society took over. It would be quite rude to refuse a visitor, especially since she received so few in recent years, and in less time than she expected, Angie was dressed in a beautiful pale green dress with silver trim and seated in front of a mirror while Anne fluttered around her, creating an elaborate hairstyle that both complimented her appearance and would not be greatly disturbed if she were to lie back to rest. Usually, the women would chat while Anne saw to this duty, but Angie could not muster any words, and Anne was too kind to pry.

Anne's creation was immediately put to the test, as Angie began to feel weak just as the hairstyle was complete. Anne assisted her back to the bed, now freshly made up, and she ensured the cushions were precisely placed for Angie's comfort and her masterpeice's preservation. For a masterpiece it was. Angie smiled as her eyes drifted shut, recalling the mass of pinned braids and coils, dotted throughout with glimpses of ribbon the color of her gown. At least she could enjoy this bit of joy on a day heavy with dark anticipation.

When she awoke again, she found her energy restored, to her surprise. Anne stepped into her field of vision with a nervous smile.

"My lady, it is time to move to the drawing room, in readiness for the arrival of your guests." She avoided meeting Angie's gaze for more than a second or two, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot with a steady rhythm, a contrast to her usual solid stance.

Angie asked, "What's wrong, Anne?"

Her maid blushed. "It is impossible for me to keep a secret from you, mistress. The announcement of your arriving guests came by letter, with no details besides the approximate number of guests, the time of arrival, and that you should be dressed well for the occasion. The missive assured us that another letter would follow with further information, but there has been no further communication. No one knows what this means, so until we know more, I intend to see you settled in the drawing room presently."

Angie puzzled over this revelation before pushing herself to a sitting position. "What time will the guests arrive?"

Anne stepped forward and offered her hands for Angie to grasp. "We have about a quarter hour left. Can you walk, my lady, or should I fetch your brothers to carry you?"

Angie wrapped her fingers around the maid's offered hands and repositioned her legs so her feet dangled a short distance above the floor. "I believe I can walk, but I will need stockings and footwear to complete my outfit."

Anne tilted her head to one side. "With your leg braces, ma'am?"

Angie kicked her feet a little off the side of the bed, assessing. "No braces today, just to walk to the drawing room. I have not enjoyed wearing stockings and real shoes in so long." She grinned at the prospect.

Anne matched her grin in kind. "One moment, then." She hurried to the wardrobe and bent low to rustle around in a low drawer. In a blink, she appeared kneeling at Angie's feet with a pair of white stockings, two lengths of ribbon to match that woven in her hair, and a pair of low-heeled cream-colored boots. The specially crafted boots boasted embroidered flowers in yellow thread which covered other stitches that secured metal braces to steady her ankles. It had been many months since she had felt well enough to wear them instead of her braces, and the sight of them stretched her grin a little wider.

Anne proficiently wielded the buttonhook to secure the boots to her feet before she straightened and offered her arm to Angie. Still grinning, Angie slid her feet to the floor, content to leave her heartache behind her on the bed for a while.