Miss Walker enters my mind again. As always, these days. I think about her form, smaller than my own, more delicate. Lighter skin and hair than mine, more attractive, definitely. Is it wrong to like a form so similar to my own? Mariana was different again. Even more attractive, taller than me, but of the same hue. A kinder reflection of myself than the one I see in a mirror. She was very different to Miss Walker; perhaps that is why I like her. In her I do not see Mariana or myself, but something new, innocent, like a shiny coin which draws the eye.

Miss Walker is more like Vere. I just hope Miss Walker will not be swept off her feet by a man like Vere was. Vere, who I dreamed would be my new Mariana. Vere, who made me flee Paris and return home to Shibden. Vere, who delighted in all things and would tease me and kiss me but always keep me at a distance. Vere, who would bring me into her elaborate world but remind me I was an outsider. She was a good friend and, in truth, I do not think she ever knew she was cruel. She was innocent in her affection and how she spoke. She was innocent when she told me, full of joy, who had proposed. Her innocent excitement as she gushed that she would become Lady Cameron, as if the title alone was all she’d ever dreamed of. More than when I was with Mariana, I had known that day would come. Vere was beautiful, highborn, intelligent, talented, and of course had wanted to be a wife and mother since she was a child. I could not begrudge her that. It was not her fault I had spent so long dreaming, imagining, hoping, praying, that it would be me that could satisfy her. I had known the truth of it all along, and despite doing my best to guard my heart from her, when she told me of her marriage, I lost another piece of it. Now I have lost so many pieces of my heart, I think I have just enough left for one last love, but if it should be broken but once more, I do not think it can ever again be whole.

Miss Walker may well be what I need. My last chance may prove perfect. We have both shared a captivity of sorts and now in adulthood we are free to remain independent. We have different looks but the same desires. I believe and sincerely hope there is a future for us yet.

I do not think she understands my fascination with the head. Perhaps I should not have told them about it; but it was worth it just to see the disgust on Marian’s face.

Miss Walker