MELODY
Grantchester was a picture-perfect English village, straight out of a postcard. The honey-colored stone cottages, the quaint village green, and the narrow winding roads were all charming in their own right. And of course, there was the River Cam that wound lazily through lush meadows and overhanging willows, beckoning rowers and daydreamers alike.
"Melody dear, please pay attention to your posture," my Grand Aunt Sylvia chided as she adjusted the teacup I was holding. Her voice was crisp and proper like a textbook on etiquette. As the widow of the Earl of Ravenwood, she took her role as my guardian quite seriously, determined to mold me into the perfect Cambridge girl. "You must always remember to hold your chin up and your back straight," she continued.
"Of course, Sensei," I re
