MISS JESSIE CHURCHILL GLANCED towards him, towards Lord Oscar Seymour, as a clink sounded from his glass, interrupting the tense silence. He was getting a drink poured for him, with an expression on his face that made one feel as though he were vacationing in Greece or some other exotic place Jessie had not the liberty to even dream of. Something dropped in her from a greater height, how could she have assumed he'd care? 

Tearing her eyes away from him, she looked at her hostess, who was busy putting a spoonful of custard into her mouth, and as she glanced at Adam Seymour, he sported that same look of amusement. Perhaps, the silence was tense only for her. Perhaps, it was only she that felt uncomfortable, after all, why would any of the other people present at the table worry for her predicament? 

Jessie thought about the predicament in question, she hated it, but it wasn't foolish. If she accepted, her father would stop making a fool of himself in front of every genteel family in the county. If she accepted, he would not have to worry about her anymore. If she accepted, she would be off his hands and well cared for. After all, what rector's daughter would want to marry for love? Stealing another glance around the table at her hosts, Jessie presumed that perhaps they thought only people of their stature were allowed to marry for love.

She shook her head inwardly to clear her thoughts. She was in no position to be prejudiced, Lady Seymour was trying to help her and her father. It wasn't her fault that Jessie hadn't managed to find a suitor yet, it wasn't her fault Jessie hadn't managed to fall in love with someone who actually loves her back yet. Lady Seymour was just trying to help, by securing a profitable match for The Churchills. 

"So?" Lady Seymour spoke after a prolonged silence, her brows rose in expectancy as she patted her lips with a handkerchief and distanced herself from her plate, "Have you come upon a decision?" 

Jessie swallowed, and composed herself as best as she could. Although, she could tell that she was still slightly shaking. "I'd like to think on it, my lady. I thank you for this offer," Jessie let out, with a nervous smile. 

Lady Margaret Seymour looked far from pleased at the response, as her face scrunched up slightly and she let out a slight huff of disbelief, "You can't afford to, but I suppose it can be tolerated." 

Jessie's smile dimmed, but she still manged to keep it on. She was embarrassed, her face grew hotter by the second and she felt suffocated. Suffocated in the large spacious dining room of the Seymour Manor. It felt like it was the size of the entire rectory, and she felt like lost button in a drawer full of valuables. She felt like that piece of old furniture that no longer belonged in a newly furnished room. 

Outside, the pounding got harder as the snow fell mercilessly to the ground. Jessie's palm sweated as she stole a glance towards the window. It was pitch black outside, with half of the window submerged in snow. She swallowed, although she had no food but anxiety bundled up in her throat. She knew she could not venture out in such snow. The darkness scared her, like it scared a child, but Jessie could've borne it were it not for the heavy snow. She knew she would undoubtedly get lost. So far, none of her hosts had addressed the situation, though the thudding of snow against the roof, windows, walls of the manor had caught everyone's attention. 

She wondered whether she'd be asked to spend the night, she hoped not. But at the same time, she wanted to wait it all out, but she wanted to wait it out anywhere but where she was at present. In a house of people who looked down at her, for her status, for her plain looks, for her demeanor. Although, Jessie was sure she had always been as polite as she could be with everyone she had ever met. But then again, people do have a tendency to judge a person by counting the number of servants they had. 

Jessie let out a slow breath, calming herself. If she is not asked to stay, she would not impose. It will all be alright. Just a few miles' walk and she would be at the rectory in no time. She repeated the phrases to herself, convincing her composure and mind to come at ease. 

"I think it is a snowstorm," An observation reached her ears, and Jessie focused herself back. It seemed as though she had missed a chunk of ongoing conversation. 

Adam Seymour now stood by the large dining room window, his hands behind his back as his eyes peered outside, "Indeed it is, and a mighty one at that," He mused, responding to his mother as Jessie assumed she was the one who had earlier spoken. 

"Southampton and snowstorms, I dare say, they should wed each other," Oscar Seymour chuckled, although no one around the table spotted any amusement in the situation. Oscar scoffed as he received his mother and elder brother's pointed looks, "Alright then," he pressed his lips, before rolling his eyes and lifting a crystal glass to his lips. 

The other storm, the one that was gathering up inside Jessie, due to her terror of being forced to leave amidst such weather, lightened at the sound of his laugh. It made her eyes go wide. She'd forgotten that she'd never heard his laughter. She'd forgotten that she'd never been in such close proximity to him that she'd make a joke and he'd laugh at it. She'd forgotten at at present, she wasn't the one who had made him laugh. Such a situation was a thing of her dreams. A fragment of her hopeless fantasies. 

"Well, I suppose you will have to spend the night at our manor, Miss Churchill," Lady Seymour declared, clapping her hands together to seize the attention of the room, even though she'd have it either way. 

Jessie relaxed, but stiffened at the same time. She hadn't ever thought she could do that before. Her mouth wanted to sigh in relief yet her back was still and all her body muscles contracted. 

"Geoffrey," The lady of the house rung a small bronze bell, Jessie hadn't noticed that the bell had sat on the table all along. She had thought it was some sort of fancy cutlery, with it's unusual square shape. The sound it made was unexpected too, a deep muted bong coming out of a tiny and thin bell, it made Jessie want to laugh out loud so she bit her lip to keep herself in composure. 

A few seconds later, a round man rushed into the dining room. Sweat lining his reddened forehead and his chest heaving up and down as though he had ran miles to get there. His tail coat flew behind him, flapping like a flag in the wind. 

"Good heavens Geoffrey!" Lady Seymour exclaimed, her eyes widening at the butler's state, "How many times have I told you not to enter a room looking like a distressed animal, it is vulgar and I won't tolerate it! My, what will our guests think were you to barge in like this? Thank goodness, it is only Miss Churchill, or I would've sent you packing this instant." 

Jessie's smile twitched slightly. She wasn't sure what her hostess meant by the words, but judging by the sudden drop of something inside her, she figured she had already interpreted it. Jessie had the sudden urge to look down at her stomach, what had suddenly gone wrong with it today? It was acting all sorts of strange and she wanted it to stop. 

"I apologize for my state, my lady," The butler let out anxiously, and Jessie couldn't help but feel sorry for him, "I-Its just that you rang the bell three times so I presumed it was something urgent." 

"It is urgent, everything I ring the bell for, is urgent," The lady of the house narrowed her eyes and the butler nodded frantically, "If it was something life threateningly urgent, as you put it, I wouldn't be ringing a bell now, would I?" 

The butler's lip quavered as he struggled to remember how he had put it, but the words didn't match, so he gave up, "I apologize, my lady."

"Hm," Lady Seymour hummed in distaste, "Now, go get some maids to prepare an upstairs guestroom for Miss Churchill, she is to spend the night. And send someone over to the rectory to inform the pastor." 

"Right away," The butler responded, relieved to be dismissed.

After dinner, the family retired to the drawing room where the eldest Seymour brother, Adam, indulged himself with glasses of wine as he read a newspaper in the corner on an arm chair. Lady Seymour seated herself on the sofas near the crackling fire in the fire place and motioned Jessie to join her. Oscar Seymour had excused himself, after a footmen had given him a small card. He had told his mother that he would be right back, and in turn his mother had sighed but inquired no further. Jessie wished she had, for she was always the curious sort. Pushing back her intrigue, she cleared her head. 

"I hope you know, Miss Churchill, that I do not intend to force you into anything," Lady Seymour spoke, as Jessie turned to look at her. The fire in the hearth crackled loudly, a sound that was relieving, as compared to the thudding of snow outside. The yellow firelight reflected on the hostess's face, and she turned to face Jessie. 

"I would not have brought Lord Colston's offer to you if I had thought you wouldn't be benefited by it," she continued, her eyes sternly looking at Jessie. 

"Of course, my lady," Jessie reassured, despite how much the offer made her stomach drop, she was grateful for the thought or concern behind it, even though she wished at times that people kept them to themselves. 

"Think upon it, as you said you would," The lady orated, and Jessie nodded. 

"Mother," A voice interrupted, and Oscar Seymour's tall figure appeared beside the sofas on Lady Seymour's side, as he turned his face to her, careful to not put his back to the hearth, "I have just met with Lord Beresford's messenger outside, he came bearing the news that Jack wants me to visit sooner than we had initially planned. I suppose something must have come up, for him to send a messenger in such weather. I shall leave directly tomorrow." 

"Either that, or Lord Beresford wants a distraction before he goes mad, living in a house with his wife, mother and sister as he is," Adam Seymour added from the corner of the room, his gaze not leaving the newspaper in his hands. 

Oscar Seymour chuckled, his gaze falling to the fire in the hearth and then returning to his mother. 

"I am glad," The lady of the house responded, "You know how much I've always liked Lord Beresford, he is a sound gentleman of honour and intelligence." 

"Better than I could ever be, I suppose," Oscar mused, a teasing grin playing on his lips. 

Lady Seymour scoffed, as she waved a hand of dismissal, "Much better," she let out, her voice breaking character and revealing a laugh. 

Oscar rolled his eyes as he shook his head in disbelief, though his lips curled into a smile. 

Jessie watched all that unfold, butterflies going wild in her belly. It was so surreal to see this side of him that she found herself questioning whether she should be there. He hadn't spoken to her at all, except for simply acknowledging her before dinner. Yet Jessie found herself wanting to speak to him. Perhaps it was his playful demeanour in front of his family that deemed him more approachable, but Jessie largely blamed it on his smile. His smile made her want to smile too, it was a harder task to control herself.

Letting out a controlled breath, she averted her gaze towards the fire. Not that he would ever truly notice her noticing him, but Jessie still did not want to get caught. She had boundlessly caught his eyes several times these two years ago, when she had friends here that still tied her to him, but they were gone now and those times had passed. 

Jessie Churchill was led to her room for the night by a maid. Walking up the stairs, Jessie could hear the family downstairs converse in the drawing room. Their voices were hushed, perhaps by the wrath of the snow outside. Words were muffled, overshadowed by the sound of her shoes hitting the wooden stairs. As she tried to walk slower, making sure her steps did not make too much noise, Jessie found the maid less careful in the pursuit. So she too gave up and quickened her pace. 

The room was lavish, and Jessie hadn't expected anything less. It truly did make her feel like an outsider, as though she were the extra piece of puzzle entirely irrelevant to the picture. The furniture was polished to perfection, and there was more of it than Jessie was used to. In her room at the rectory, Jessie was in possession of an old vanity with drawers big enough to store her clothing, and a bed spacious enough to accommodate her. Her present room had both of these things, but bigger and more extravagant. There was a giant wardrobe against the wall and the floors were carpeted a deep red in contrast to the dark brown wallpaper on the walls.

She wondered whether Lord Colston had rooms like these in his house, or was he more grander? He was wealthy, and had children, he was bound to be a man of taste and interests. A scene flashed in her mind, a fire lit hearth in a darkened drawing room. The room was much grander than any she had ever seen before. She was there, sitting on a cushion on the green carpeted floors, with her legs under her and a book in her hands. Jessie was reading to three children in that vision, and on an arm chair not far away, sat an elderly round man, the smoke from his large pipe infiltrating the room. Jessie could hear his grunts, and they unnerved her. 

She couldn't make out his face, or any significant feature. The light of the flames in the hearth flickered past his face, not staying on it for more than a second, leaving his face in the dark with only his round belly and giants legs in view. Jessie jerked back from the vision.

The maid had been speaking, Jessie realized as a change in her tone brought her to focus. She had coughed. 

"I apologize, it is the cold," The maid spoke nervously. 

"That's alright," Jessie assured, guilty of having missed entirely everything of what the maid had been telling her. She had hunch that it was about the room, and where everything was, and what she ought to do if she needed something. Some of that information may have been useful if it were not for the lavish furniture that had distracted Jessie's thoughts. 

The maid smiled and excused herself, shutting the door behind her slowly, leaving Jessie in unfamiliar surroundings all alone. 

She walked over to the window of her newly appointed room. The curtains were pinned to the side by a shiny silver nook that had the engraving of a flower on it. A lily. Jessie smiled, she adored lilies. They were her favourite flowers. Peeking outside the window, she saw the darkness that lay await for her were she sent home after dinner. Jessie could make out some of the pathways between the large trees that led to familiar places, but she wasn't sure. Everything looked similar covered with thick snow.

She hadn't realized that she was leaning forward when her nose pressed tightly against the cold glass of the window and she backed away slowly. A wave of embarrassment shot through her. Even though she was alone, Jessie's cheeks heated up when she wondered someone had seen. They'd think her immature, pressing her nose like that as though she were a child.  She shook her head, why was she becoming so judgmental of herself? She had never been that way, she had always done what felt right, despite people shooting her looks of disapproval.  

Maybe it was the people around her. Maybe they had started having an effect on her, maybe she was letting them get to her. Or maybe she did not have enough willpower left to resist. 

Sighing, Jessie reached to the nooks and undid the clasp that held the curtains on the tiny lily engraved silver ornament. She drew the curtains, making sure the window was entirely covered. Then she made herself comfortable, and dressed in the spare linen gown that the maid had left for her on the bed. Putting her formal dress on a chair, and her necklace on the vanity, Jessie undid her hair from its many pins. 

It was time for her to sleep. The quicker she'd sleep the faster the night would be over, and Jessie desperately wanted it to be over. She wanted to be in the comfort of the rectory again, away from Oscar Seymour, his family, and his smile that did the unthinkable to her.