Two days it's been since passed the library incident , The book called The feelings and the letters from him,I have been thinking about and then I opened the drawer and took the book I wrote about him...
Anna clutched the book to her chest as if it might bite her. The Tale of Dorian Veyne her tale, her sin, her curse. She had not touched it in months, perhaps years, though it had made its way to countless readers across London under her pen name A.M. Harrow. They sang its praises and spat their curses, but none ever looked at Anna Whitmore, the modest literature tutor with her immaculate gowns and polished accent, sipping her tea in a sunlit drawing room.
Yet tonight, after the oak-scented letter, she could not resist.
She slid the worn cover open, fingers trembling, and read aloud the cruel poetry she had once written in a fever of midnight inspiration:
"He was not a man, but a wound made flesh. His soul stitched with hatred, his veins drunk on envy, his breath the whisper of sins unnamed. He loved nothing but his own torment, and yet he craved the world's tears as a drunkard craves his wine. Greed made him king, sloth made him prisoner. He was the beast and the beggar, the sinner and the saint of shadows."
Her own words stung her ears now. She slammed the book shut with a gasp. "Good heavens… what have I done?"
A knock on the parlour door startled her. It was Mrs. Fairfax, her loyal housekeeper, carrying a tray of steaming Earl Grey.
"Your tea, Miss Whitmore. And Mr. Edmund is here to see you."
Anna straightened her posture, slipping the book under a velvet cloth.
"Show him in, please."
In came Edmund, one of her brightest pupils from the university, his eyes alight with excitement.
"Miss Whitmore, the city prepares for the Harvest Festival next week. They've asked me to read a passage from The Tale of Dorian Veyne! Can you believe it? The people say A.M. Harrow is becoming an international phenomenon edtranslated in Paris, even in Vienna."
Anna's throat tightened. "Do they now?" she murmured, forcing her words into a clipped, elegant accent. "Quite… astonishing indeed."
"Do you not adore it?" he pressed. "To think a writer, hiding under a pen name, has shaken the whole of London. Whoever he or she may be, the author must feel most glorious."
Anna smiled faintly, lifting her porcelain cup. "Glory is a dangerous temptation, Mr. Edmund. One ought not to seek it too greedily."
The boy laughed, oblivious to her turmoil. "Well, whoever Harrow is, the festival committee will host a grand tea party in the gardens. You must come, Miss Whitmore, everyone will be there."
"A tea party," she repeated softly. Her hands shook as she set her cup down. For she knew the villain watched her, listened through shadows, and if she dared step into the gardens… he might follow.
After having a pleasant conversation with Mr Edmund , I took a walk in my own garden then a voice from behind
Darling...
It's Mr Jacob Whitford
Father of lady Anne Whitford
A very kind and strong man, knowledgable different perspectives to world even though his daughter decided to not marry and teach students ettuquite and read he never restricted her , even though he faced so many cricticism
He loved his child so much given so much love, a person who never even considered second marriage
Lady anna heard the word darling from back she go and hug her father
Father ..
Mr Whitford asked
Darling it's like I haven't seen u in ages , what are u upto now a days , I heard edmound also visited
Yes father , he asked me to join the festival and something about author , reading and all
Father replied
Yes honey , it's now a talk in town, about the book right ,
Everyone telling it's very hard to find the author , and the publishing company is also saying author asked privacy that's the only contract ,
What father why are u searching author
I heard it from majesty that he is planning to give author some gift and appreciation
And also I heard people talking about see the author cuz of his work and cruel writing
But I think he has a great perspective into the world , you know everyone has no same experience as one , so I respect his/her work and writing
Lady Anna replied with a satisfied smile yes daddy I tooo think so..
And then they both walk tobthe garden talking about things her late dinner , her sleeplessness and all the day passed by...