HER
When Elliot runs into the servants' hall and tells everyone the baby is coming, I don't know what to do.
The room tilts; the clatter of chairs sounds far away.
I hadn't gone to see Amber yet.
I had only sent the money.
Luckily, the doctors were able to treat her enough to let her make it to full term. I'd known this moment would come, but not that it would feel like this.
Everyone else rushes out. I follow, my feet moving before I can think. The world seems to narrow, fuzzing around the edges. The voices distort, color drains, and the hallway stretches like a tunnel. Before I know it, I'm in the hospital, with no memory of getting there. My ears are stuffed with cotton, the only sound the soggy beating of my heart.
It's like looking at a painting, beautiful and unattainable.
All the people gather around a flushed Amber, Elliot stroking her hair, love painfully clear on his face.
On both their faces.
A tiny hand reaches out from the bundle of blankets and grabs Amber's finger. A stray strand of blonde hair falls across her forehead.
A family.
Surrounded by friends.
Everyone is moving through molasses.
Amber opening her mouth and saying the only thing I've been able to hear since Elliot came in.
"Her name is Grace."
The words seem too loud, after the silence in my head.
Grace.
I don't wait for her to see me.
I just run.
I don't know where I'm going, only that I have to get away.
When I finally stop, a field surrounds me on every side. The only witness to my sorrow is the sky. I would have kept going, but my foot caught on something and I lay sprawled on the ground.
I should feel pain.
I do, but not the right kind.
My fingers dig into the damp soil, bile crawling up my throat. There is such silence here, broken only by my sawing breaths.
No tears come, just nausea, rising up and up my throat. Pushing its way into my mouth. Past my clenched teeth. Until I can't hold in the acid anymore.
"I am a selfish, wretched person and I will never have what they have. I don't deserve it."
My words echo against the earth.
The sky says nothing back.
—
By some miracle, I make it back.
Everyone is gone except her and the baby, Grace.
Her eyes find mine immediately, she's been waiting. Our eyes never leave each other as I take slow, deliberate steps towards her. I stop at the end of her cot and she just looks at me.
God knows what she sees. I'm covered in dirt and shame.
"Sit."
I do.
There are too many things we could say.
We both say nothing.
"Tell me."
I do.
Three Years Prior
"You're looking rather happy this morning." Mr. Hawthorn says casually, noting my poorly concealed grin, and the bouncing of my leg.
"Let me guess," Adah says, eyeing me up and down, "It's—"
"Mail time!"
The loud voice of the Butler cuts her off, and I spring from my chair.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Adah grumbles, George laughing at my expense. I'm too excited to care. Reaching out eagerly, the rough feeling of paper fills my palms. Aleksi's familiar writing looks up at me from the neatly folded letter.
I swish back over to Adah and Mr. Hawthorn, who are smiling indulgently at me like proud parents. I swear I hear Adah mumble something about Mrs. Kozlov owing her money.
Dearest Incorrigible Limonskiy,
How can you be so wrong about something? How could you possibly say you would be a chicken if you were a farm animal? There are so many better ones: horses, cows, even pigs for goodness sake. Everyone knows chickens are the worst company to keep. They're ridiculous, always running around with their heads off. At least pick something dignified.
Honestly, this might be a deal breaker.
Although, I'm starting to think if things do go badly between us that Mamka will take your side. She won't stop asking about you. I think she might miss you more than anyone.
Except maybe me.
In other news, a sheep on the Nelson's farm gave birth and I put a sketch of the lamb in with this letter. I wish you could be here to see it.
Everyone here wants you back as soon as possible. I hope you haven't decided you like the city more—there may be riots in protest.
To answer your last question: Mamka with a rolling pin any day. That grizzly bear doesn't stand a chance, especially if it's misbehaving.
Be honest: what's the worst thing about me? And before you write it, no you can't say my handwriting.
As always, I await your response.
Yours,
Aleksi
I smile like a schoolgirl, running careful fingers over the beautifully sketched lamb that seems to come off the page.
That very moment I sat down and penned my response.
The letter was sent before lunch.
It was the last one of its kind.
—
Just before dinner, in the small window I have to myself, I run up the stairs to my room.
I've been carrying Aleksi's letter with me all morning, but I want to put it with the others, carefully folded in stacks, wrapped in my uniforms.
Perhaps, even a few months prior, I would have noticed that my door was ajar before I got there. I would have recognized the faint cologne.
But, ironically, Aleksi had made me carefree.
So I don't notice, and I barrel into my room to see my very nightmares unfolding before me.
It's him.
Thomas.
Crouched artfully next to the fire, burning my letters from Aleksi.
The air smells of ash and ink.
He doesn't look up when I come in, only starts reading.
"Dearest Lemon-ski, I hope this letter finds you well. This place is so dreary without you—"
His voice forms the words, yet they sound hollow, like something precious dropped in mud.
I can't move.
Can't breathe.
My vision zeroes in on him, yet seems to try to cut out his face.
Even my eyesight shrinks away from him.
He stands.
"I'll scream." My voice isn't mine.
He only laughs.
"You seem so sure I am here to give you a reason to."
He sounds civil. Like we're just two people crossing paths in the park. I match him.
"Are you not?"
He tilts his head, thinking.
My heart pounds.
I need to get away.
"No, I don't think I am."
I shudder.
He takes one step towards me, and I flinch back a step, like an odd dance. His smile falls and I retreat another step. I am all too familiar with his displeasure.
He is faster than me.
When he moves, I try to turn, to run through the open door, but he reaches it before I can. He slams it an inch from my face, and I end up facing the door, his mouth at my ear.
His arms create a cage around me, and unbidden tears slip down my face.
"Move again and I will give you something to scream about."
I shudder again, muscles coiled so tightly they ache. The door presses into me painfully, my body desperate to put as much space as possible between him and I.
His hot breath tickles my neck as his lips brush my ear.
"Next time I come, I expect you to be more welcoming." I bite back the whimper that builds in my throat. I won't give him the satisfaction.
"And, Laura, I think it would be in everyone's best interest if you stopped talking to this… Aleksi fellow. We wouldn't want anything to happen to him, or even Lady Anna, would we?"
More tears slip down my cheeks.
I can't move, can't answer.
He makes me.
Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he yanks my head back, making me look him in the eyes.
"I asked you a question, Laura."
I can't hold back the sob that wracks me as I nod.
"Good."
His voice is low now, soft, like a lover. A mockery of the gentleness it impersonates. The grip on my hair becomes loose, his thumb stroking the back of my neck. He kisses my forehead like I'm a small child after a scolding.
When he finally pulls back, I stumble away, my knees giving out.
"I'll see you soon, Laura."
I don't look up as he leaves.