Louise was properly settled in a villa at Amber Bay, facing the sea. Spring was warm, flowers were in bloom; when she opened the window, she could see the azure waters and the bay dotted with white sails, hear the waves crashing against the reefs, and smell the salty tang of the sea breeze.
The villa came with a well-tended little garden, and several familiar maids were responsible for her daily needs.
Louise almost immediately fell in love with the place. Unlike Carnford Castle, with its weighty, militarized atmosphere steeped in the rugged spirit of the Northern Territory, the Amber Bay villa was tranquil and bright, carrying a touch of southern leisure.
She could sleep until she woke naturally, listening to the cries of seagulls and the sound of the surf; she could read on the sun-drenched terrace; she could stroll along the beach with the maids, picking up strange shells polished smooth by the waves.
No one looked her over any longer with the expectant gaze reserved for "the Lord's wife." There were no complicated courtly rules binding her, no façade of a political marriage that had to be carefully maintained. She was simply Louise, a young woman of unusual status living in a seaside villa, left undisturbed.
Karl visited once on the day Louise moved into Amber Bay, confirming that everything had been properly arranged.
The two had tea on the sea-facing terrace and exchanged a few inconsequential remarks about the bay's climate, books, and the like. The atmosphere was calm and distant, yet strangely harmonious.
As he left, Karl could sense the tension gradually easing from Louise's body, and a great weight in his heart lifted slightly.
With Louise settled, one of the most thorny matters in his heart—and the one most entangled with his personal feelings—had