Later that night, when the estate lay quiet and the moon cast silvery shadows through the halls, Anna sought out Friedrich in his study.
"Anna, what brings you here at this hour?" Friedrich inquired, looking up from a pile of documents.
"Concern for the household," she began, her tone firm. "You know as well as I that Amelie's situation is delicate. She is young, alone, and with child. It would not do for rumors to start."
Friedrich's expression grew solemn. "I assure you, my intentions are honorable."
"Intentions can be misread, and honor misconstrued," Anna pressed. "You are a man of standing, and she is... vulnerable. You must exercise restraint, for her sake as well as your own.
You hold authority over her as the substitute for the duke, but even without that title, her family entrusted her to my care. And I will not allow your relationship any further. Your mother would undoubtedly agree with me on this matter."
Friedrich leaned back in his chair, the weight of Anna's words settling upon him. "I understand," he said at last. "Thank you for your sincerity, Anna."
"Good," Anna nodded, her gaze softening just a fraction. "Protecting the reputation of those within these walls is my duty. We must all do our part."
With a final nod, she turned and left Friedrich to his solitude, the echo of her footsteps a somber reminder of the lines that should not be crossed.
In the silence that followed, Friedrich stared into the flickering candlelight, the dancing flame reflecting the turmoil within his soul. He could not deny the connection he felt with Amelie, nor the protective urge that stirred whenever he was near her. But Anna was right; propriety demanded caution, and he must guard against letting his emotions lead them both astray.
Their meetings had become scarce lately as the young master became more fond of Amelie. She could only steal fleeting moments in the Library while the duke tended to his child in the morning and duties as duke. He would meet her there before she rushed back to her room in case of any urgent needs from the young master.
Friedrich knew he now had to keep his distance from Amelie, and he had to focus on helping his friend regain his strength and fulfill his responsibilities as the stand-in ruler. Friedrich's position as her superior was the only one of the things holding him back. If he were to take Amelie and flee to his own new duchy, no one could stand in their way. But for the moment his absence wouldn't bother her much, he thought to himself, as she had been preoccupied with the child and her own affairs. As soon as his friend Ludwig regained his composure, he would find out how to go about his relationship with Amelie. However, before anything else, he needed to assist his friend and help him regain his strength.
As the clock struck midnight, the halls of the estate whispered with the secrets of hearts entwined by circumstance and bound by society's unyielding grasp. In the shadowed corners, the promise of romance blossomed like the forbidden roses in the garden, beautiful yet brimming with hidden thorns.
The austere dining hall of the Wartenburg estate was bathed in the golden hue of candlelight, the flickering flames casting elongated shadows that danced upon the walls. Amelie sat at the far end of the polished mahogany table, a delicate porcelain plate before her, its contents untouched. Across from her, Friedrich mirrored her posture with rigid precision, his eyes downcast as he dissected a piece of roasted pheasant with mechanical detachment.
Standing at the doorway was Anna, who oversaw the servants and meals. It wasn't technically her responsibility, but she always found a reason to be near Friedrich and Amelie when they were alone. Friedrich felt obligated to maintain a façade, so he refrained from asking about Amelie's brother and instead focused on his food.
"Is the meat up to your liking, Freidrich?" Amelie inquired with a hint of unease in her voice. It was their first encounter of the day. Friedrich had failed to show at the library this morning. Nor had he joined her for their usual walk or midday meal. Though they still sat together now, there was an unspoken distance between them. Normally, they would engage in lively discussions about the young master, the latest books they read, and updates on their families. But today, Friedrich seemed distant and disengaged. He didn't even inquire about her brother Joseph, despite being the one who had facilitated their correspondence. Perhaps he was overburdened with work, or something heavy weighed on his mind.
"Quite satisfactory," Friedrich replied curtly, without lifting his gaze. The formality of his tone belied the warmth she had grown accustomed to during their prior interactions. A silence thick as clotted cream settled between them, suffocating the remnants of their once easy camaraderie.
She pushed a boiled potato around her plate, her appetite vanquished by the chill now enveloping the room. Anna, the housekeeper, had been quite explicit in her instructions: Friedrich was to maintain a respectful distance from the young nursemaid, but Amelie didn't know about it.
"Will you be accompanying me on my afternoon stroll tomorrow, Friedrich?" Amelie ventured, clinging to a sliver of hope that the man she knew might resurface.
"Regrettably, I must decline," he said, dabbing his mouth with a fine linen napkin before setting it beside his plate. "Duties require my attention elsewhere."
Amelie nodded, suppressing the surge of sadness that threatened to spill over. She understood duty; it was the very fabric that wove together her existence. Yet, she could not quell the loneliness that gnawed at her heart, nor the confusion that clouded her thoughts.
"Of course," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
With dinner concluded, Friedrich rose to take his leave. "A good evening to you, Amelie."
"Good evening, Friedrich," Amelie responded, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.
She watched as Friedrich's broad-shouldered silhouette retreated from the dining hall, the click of his boots against the marble floor echoing long after he had vanished from sight. Alone amidst the opulent surroundings, Amelie allowed herself a moment of vulnerability, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns etched into the tabletop.
Once composed, she stood and made her way to her room, where the young master lay sleeping soundly in his crib. She hummed a soft lullaby, one her mother had often sung to her, as she tucked the blankets snugly around the infant.