/I don't own anything you recognize in this story. /

Chapter One

"In what concerns you much, do not think that you have companions: know that you are alone in the world." –Henry David Thoreau

The carriage rocked gently as I stared out the window, not seeing anything. It had been hard the last couple of months, but especially towards the end of the school term. With all that I had gone through that last night, it was a wonder that I didn't just pass out from nerves and exhaustion.

The carriage slowed before coming to a stop. We must have reached home. The door of the carriage swung open and the footman looked inside at me. I just glared wearily back at him.

"We are here, Miss Doyle," he said, "its best not to keep your grandmother waiting."

"No, we wouldn't want her to lose her hat over me," I muttered under my breath, but I complied. I was in no fit state to endure one of Grandmother's crusades to shape me into a respectable young woman of society.

Taking the footman's hand, I got out of the carriage and stood back as the footman went through the motions. As I looked around, waiting for the footman to finish, I noticed that no one had come down to greet me.

"Sir," I exclaimed, turning back to the footman. "Isn't there supposed to be someone who was supposed to greet me?"

The footman grimaced. "I'm sorry to inform you, miss, that Mr. and young Master Doyle are out on business. They won't be down to greet you, Miss Doyle, I am sorry."

"And what of my grandmother, sir?" I asked, feeling my patience beginning to waver. "Surely she's available to greet me."

"Surely, miss, but she's had a slight cold of late and doesn't have the disposition to come out and greet you properly," the footman said nervously. "I am sorry, but you will have to go up to the house on your own, begging your pardon."

I rolled my eyes in disgust and disbelief. It figures that everybody would make themselves scarce when the scandalous Gemma Doyle arrived home. Not that I would have minded, anyway, but it was a bit odd that my family would ignore proper protocol that society dictates. Especially my grandmother, who insisted on following every societal rule lest she or her family become outcasts.

I smiled sweetly at the footman, knowing that if I didn't make it up to him; he would surely tell my grandmother of my poor manners.

"Of course, how silly of me to expect that my only and dear grandmother to come out on this cold night and risk worsening her cold," I said, smiling. "It will be of no consequence to me to go up to the house by myself just once."

The footman smiled in relief, grateful that I wasn't going to cause a scene. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. How I hated the protocol of the wealthy society.

Gathering my resolve, I told the footman to deliver my luggage up to the house before picking up my skirts and heading to the house. I had a feeling that my grandmother was waiting rather impatiently for me whether she was sick or not. It would do no good to keep her waiting.

Entering the front door, I closed it behind me before checking myself in the mirror. I looked every bit as I felt. Well, there was no time to make myself presentable. I hurried into the parlor.

"Good grief, child, look at the sight of you!" Grandmother exclaimed from her chair by the fireplace. "You look like you've been traveling for days rather than mere hours."

I sighed inwardly. She, of all people should know how much traveling took a toll on the body no matter how long he or she had been traveling. But what wears me out is something that I can never tell as long as I live. Or at least until certain issues were cleared up.

"I'm sorry, Grandmother, I have just arrived. I haven't had much time for anything else," I exclaimed, giving her something to chew on.

Grandmother looks at me with a critical eye. I force myself not to cringe. It would have given her more ammunition to remind me of why I was such a pestering nuisance.

"Where have Father and Tom gone to?" I asked, unable to keep my curiosity in check. "It seems rather odd that they would be out so late."

Grandmother sighed heavily. "Your father has taken ill this evening, Gemma, and your brother has taken him up to his work to get him some medical attention."

I stare at my grandmother in shock. "Not the asylum? But Father hasn't, I mean, he hasn't gone…?"

"As far as you're concerned, Gemma, no he hasn't. The asylum was the closest thing Tom could get him to for treatment at such a time of night," Grandmother exclaimed, her eyes flashing. I knew that meant she was close to losing her temper and I had to tread carefully now.

"Forgive me, Grandmother," I finally said, "it has been a long night."

Suddenly Grandmother's eyes grew softer. It was the closest thing to showing any emotion and tenderness towards me in a long time. Perhaps never, I'm never quite sure.

"Of course it has, dear," Grandmother exclaimed. "I've kept you up longer than I should have. Please, go upstairs and take your rest. I'll have the rest of your luggage sent up to you in the morning."

I nodded and said good night to my grandmother before heading upstairs. As I headed into my room and got ready for the night, I couldn't help but think about that had transpired. It was odd that Tom would take our father to the asylum, a nobleman at that. Could his defenses no longer hold him up and the creatures and spirits of the Winterlands were finally able to grasp a hold onto him? If that's what had happened, it was my entire fault.

I finally collapsed into bed, exhausted. There was so much expected of me, yet I couldn't do it all at once. Slowly, I drifted off into sleep. Whatever I had to do would have to wait until the morning. Rest was first priority.