Chapter 70 A chilly morning
Pale and uncertain, the first rays of morning light cut through the thick curtains.
Instead of the soft rustle of the man next to her, Annabel's eyes opened to reveal a blank room. The sheets were pulled smooth as though they had never been used and the pillow beside hers was new.
She felt a sudden coldness in her stomach, a physical weight that reflected the bed's emptiness. The silk comforter slipped off her shoulders as she slowly sat up.
The area where he had been just an hour earlier was now cold after she ran her hand over the cool sheet. She had sobbed herself to sleep, her silent sobs a last-ditch effort to erase the guilt and fatigue of the previous day.
He had disappeared now. She was alone in the large, quiet house, a lone dejected figure in a sea of luxury while he had gone to work. She felt a new wave of sadness.
There was a profound, subdued sadness that was unrelated to the actual location. It was the sadness of being abandoned misinterpreted and bearing the burden of a whole legacy without any prior notice.
She felt a physical ache that she had grown all too accustomed to along with a familiar knot of tears tightening in her throat.
Her heart beat steadily and quietly as she sat there for a long time breaking the stillness of the room.
None of the opulent furnishings the expansive window view or the gentle morning light soothed her. It was merely a sharp reminder of how alone she was.
A new emotion hot and sharp finally started to pierce the sadness. Rage. He had abandoned her. In that exact same way it was done yesterday and will do over and over again.
He had just abandoned her here to face this new world, this gilded cage on her own. He hadn't asked about her well-being.
Her pillow was soaked by silent tears that he had failed to notice. When she feigned sleep, he had failed to notice the anguish in her eyes. He'd just left.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sighed in frustration. Her bare feet were startled by the cold marble floor.
With her arms encircling herself in a tight protective embrace, she stood and moved slowly in the direction of the large bay window.
She felt as though the chilly morning air was taunting her giving her a sudden hard blow to the face. The well-kept gardens below were a picture-perfect well-organized world that was incompatible with her messy chaotic emotions.
Angry and sad, she pressed her forehead against the cool glass. She wanted to yell. Her intention was to toss something. Home was what she wanted, a new type of home. Though, she was unable to get that.
Her former life was a distant dream that was now unattainable. No turning back now. Only forward toward whatever was ahead for her.
Her resolve solidifying, she lowered her arms. It would not help to stay here. Her reality would not change if she lay in bed feeling sorry for herself.
Whatever the day brought she had to face it. She needed to prove to them—to Margery, to Victoria to herself—that she was capable.
She was more than a frail young woman from a low-income household. She was a strong, resilient woman. She was a woman with the ability to defend herself. She wouldn't just lie down and allow them to dictate how she lived here.
She was neither a pawn nor a prize in their covert conflict. She inhaled deeply, turned away from the window and made her way to the door.
She walked slowly and deliberately as though every step presented a fresh obstacle. A lone traveler in a vast empty world she walked down the long silent corridor the sound of her own footsteps echoing back at her.
It was cool and still. Everything she saw seemed to have a secret from the large elaborate paintings on the walls to the sleek marble statues in the niches.
The weight of the house was oppressive and nearly suffocating. She started down the grand sweeping staircase after reaching the top. Her hand followed the polished slick banister.
Although the house was now awake the atmosphere was one of silence and quiet. She slowly headed towards the dining room.
She pictured a silent room with just one plate prepared for her and another test to gauge her behavior. A strange sound reached her ears as she approached.
The sound seemed completely out of place in this large quiet tomb; it was a soft melodic hum.
Laughter. Sincere laughter.
She stumbled over her steps. Her hand was motionless as she came to a halt a few feet from the dining room doors. The sound of silverware clinking on porcelain was followed by a deeper, more resonant laugh that she heard once more.
The knot in her stomach twisted with surprise. Was Victoria still here? Was she not at the company?
A new wave of outrage washed over her. Annabel had to face the day by herself but Victoria was here laughing with someone after treating her like a common maid.
A silent anger started to well up inside her. The sad, reserved girl of the morning had vanished. A woman who was fed up with being a silent victim took her place.
Her shoulders became tense. She wasn't going to hide. She refused to take off running. Whatever lay behind that door would be her face.
With a loud protest in the quiet house she pushed the heavy oak door open.
The laughing stopped. Immediately, the clinking of silverware stopped too. The profound silence that fell suddenly felt like a physical blow.
The sight before her caused Annabel's breath to catch in her throat and her eyes widened.
As if she were a living statue, she stood motionless in the doorway, her mind trying to understand the scene before her.