Chapter 10 MISS FREYA TAYLOR

With her black hair lifted by the breeze, Freya Taylor stood at the edge of the lawn and gazed out over the estate's undulating hills. The sky glowed golden as the sun descended, but Freya's thoughts were elsewhere. Even though the view was breathtaking, she could still feel the familiar tug of responsibility strongly pressing upon her heart.

Born into a world that had previously centered around her and her mother, Freya was Mr. Taylor's first child. She had been loved, cared for, and protected as the sole child of Mr. Taylor's first marriage-until her mother passed away. When Freya's mother passed away she was just nine years of age, it left a gap in both the family's life and her own. She had become somewhat of her father's carer after spending years learning to navigate life without the lady who had been her guide.

Freya found herself torn between her father's new family and the ruins of her mother's memories when Mr. Taylor remarried. Soon later, Ivy and her two younger brothers were born, and Freya's position changed once more. Although she loved her new siblings unconditionally, there was always a part of her that felt like she was on the sidelines. She became the oldest sister in a home that wasn't completely hers anymore.

Gradually, Freya came to love her position as the Taylor family's silent protector. Her younger siblings, especially Ivy, were the object of her intense protectiveness. However, in the process, she had given up her own goals and aspirations in favor of her family, taking personal losses.

Freya had once been in love.

She had been in her early twenties at the time, long before Ivy and the boys developed into the fascinating people they are now. Henry, the man, had been someone who recognized her reserved demeanor and had the ability to look past it. For a little while, Freya had given herself permission to dream of a life beyond being the obedient sister and daughter. But Freya had to make the painful decision to call it quits on the relationship because her father's health had declined, and her stepmother needed more help with the kids. Although Henry had shown sympathy, Freya was aware of how severely her choice had affected him.

The agony of that decision still lingered now, over a decade later, hidden in the recesses of her heart. After Henry, Freya had never looked for another meaningful connection. Few people were aware of the magnitude of the sacrifices she had made, but her life had become a patchwork of quiet service to those she loved and family responsibilities.

Mr. Taylor, with his ever-stern countenance, was sitting at his desk inside the Taylor estate, poring through a stack of business paperwork. Freya waited a moment on the threshold before entering the space.

Her voice as firm as ever, she said, "Father."

He acknowledged, "Freya," but his gaze stayed fixed on the documents. "You weren't there at dinner,"

"I was in the garden, reflecting," Freya responded.

Mr. Taylor finally looked up, his sharp eyes studying his eldest daughter. "You've always been like your mother in that way. Always thinking, always serious."

Freya allowed a small smile, though the mention of her mother always stirred something bittersweet within her. "Someone has to be serious."

Mr. Taylor grunted. "And you've done your share of that, haven't you? Always looking after everyone."

Without comment, Freya stood there. There was no reason to. She was the family's rock and the one who could always be relied upon to maintain order, according to an unwritten arrangement she had long since agreed with her father.

Leaning back in his chair, Mr. Taylor remarked, "I wanted to talk to you about Ivy." The weight of concern in his voice was something only a father could have. "Recently, she had been...distracted. You are aware of my deep concern for her future.

Knowing where this conversation was going, Freya nodded. For Ivy, her father had high hopes. Freya knew, even though he never expressed it explicitly, that Mr. Taylor wanted Ivy to marry well and raise the family's status even further. But Freya had never experienced that same pressure. Rather than being the one expected to marry into wealth or rank, she was the dependable elderly person.

"Ivy will be fine," Freya said, though she wasn't sure she entirely believed it. "She's just young. She'll figure things out."

Mr. Taylor's brow furrowed. "I'm not so sure. She's been spending time with people who aren't...suitable."

Freya was aware that he was speaking of Arnold Wellington, even though her father was still unaware of Ivy's complete relationship with him. She had witnessed Ivy's demeanor when she believed no one was around, when she was conflicted about her emotions and the truth about Arnold and Isabella's engagement. Freya, though, had opted to remain neutral, allowing Ivy to manage her own emotions. Freya had discovered long ago that the heart was not always open to reason.

"I'll talk to her," Freya offered, though she wasn't sure what she could say that would help.

Mr. Taylor grunted again, his expression softening slightly. "I trust you to do what's best for her. You always have."

Those were words that had burdened Freya for as long as she could remember. Whenever it came to putting the needs of the family before her own happiness, she was always the one to act in that capacity.

Leaving her father's study, Freya felt duty's old pull tugging at her. Returning to the garden, she strolled about, enjoying the cool air and sweet fragrance of late summer blooms. Her mind wandered, not to Ivy's predicament but to her own memories.

For years Freya had wondered what would have happened to her life if she had made a different decision all those years ago. Would she have experienced the happiness that seemed to elude her so frequently if she had stayed with Henry? Or would that have also been crushed by the weight of her family's expectations?

She took a moment to close her eyes and breathe in the quiet of the night. Freya had come to terms with her decisions. Even if the life she had created wasn't what she had imagined as a young lady, she had learned to be content with it. She was known for her calm strength, yet there was still a part of her that yearned for something more.

As the night fell, Freya realized that whatever happened to Ivy, she would be there to catch her sister if she fell. She had always played this part, and she would continue to do so, no matter what the cost.

However, Freya secretly wondered if she would ever give herself the opportunity to leave the confines of duty and pursue her own interests, though for now, there were more pressing matters at hand.