HER
I pace back and forth across my small room—still fuming.
How dare he?
I woke up that morning, the one after Christmas, exhausted. I barely slept, even with all my furniture pushed against the door to block anyone from getting in.
I expected to go downstairs, go about my day, and avoid the valet. Avoid everyone, really. Except maybe Aleksi. I had wanted to thank him.
It was when I was looking for him, early in the morning, when I heard it.
"Did you hear the valet got sacked?" My blood went cold.
"No! What happened?"
"No one knows, but apparently his Lordship came down about an hour ago, practically dragged him out of here!"
I couldn't hear the rest over my own heartbeat.
No. No no no.
My legs felt heavy as I dragged myself up the stairs, each step echoing like a bell toll. The whisperings downstairs keep repeating in my head, though I could no longer hear them.
Dragged out of here. Like trash. Like me, last time.
Maybe they don't know. Maybe someone else complained. But I knew I was fooling myself.
My hands shook, fumbling with the key to my room.
They'll come for me next.
I locked myself in my room once again, curling into the corner. Trapped between the here and now, and all those months before.
"Get out!"
"Pathetic."
"I think it would be best if you left, Laura."
Except then it wasn't Lady Eliza yelling those things at me; it was Lady Anna. Lady Welch. His Lordship.
Will he drag me out too? In front of the whole staff? Tell them what happened?
I whimpered, hiding my face in my skirts. It would be just like last time. The hateful looks. The humiliation.
I had cowered in fear for most of the morning. Curled up like a small child. Every footfall in the hallway sent me into a panic.
Now it happens. Now they make me leave.
In my head, I said goodbye to everyone. Amber and Grace with their boundless cheer. Adah with her dry humour and wisdom. Mrs. Kozlov and her firm words but soft heart. I didn't let myself think of Aleksi.
I had even convinced myself it was for the best. Maybe this is how my life would be. A few months in a place, and then moving on. I couldn't really blame them, either. It was always my fault.
But as the hours went on, my muscles getting sore from being in the same position for so long, no one came. Until Mrs. Hobbs.
When she knocked, my initial panic returned. I don't want to go.
But she only said, in a firm but flustered voice, "What are you still doing in bed? You need to pack Lady Anna's things!"
When I finally came out of my room, no one said anything. Only shoved clothes—Lady Anna's, not mine for once—in my arms and told me to start packing.
It had haunted me every second of the last two months, wracked my body with nervous tremors. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But the new valet arrived, and no one said anything.
The fear wasn't even the worst part. No. The worst part was it was Aleksi that had done this. He was the only one who knew. And somehow, the valet was fired.
Did he even wait until the morning to go running to our employers? Before he told them everything?
In hindsight, maybe I shouldn't have thrown those rolled up hats at him, but over the last two months, my anger has been growing and stewing. With no outlet besides beating Adah and Mr. Hawthorn in cards, it had finally exploded.
I huff and plop down on my bed. It creaks under my weight. Glaring angrily at the warped floor boards, I dig my nails into the blankets on my bed.
When I hear a soft knock at the door, I almost expect it to be Aleksi. That would be just like him—doing whatever he wants, with no thought of the consequences. But I know by the light footfalls that it isn't him.
Amber and Grace stand outside my door, hesitantly holding up a platter of cookies and milk from the kitchen.
"We thought you might want company," Grace says, gentle, like she's trying to sooth me.
My anger dissolves in an instant, a smile breaking out on my face. I laugh at their nervous expressions.
"I would love some. Come on in."
Their answering smiles are so bright I almost need to cover my eyes. They put the cookies on my night table and sit side by side on the unoccupied bed. Their lack of chatter is the first thing that lets me know something is off.
They sit on the edge of the bed, hands clasped tight in their laps, watching me with round eyes.
"We brought some milk too," Grace says, grabbing it and holding it out like a peace offering.
"Is it warm?"
"Yes, and we got Mrs. Kozlov to add some of her spice blend."
My heart swells at their kind gesture as I inhale the sweet scent of cinnamon and nutmeg.
"Thank you."
I sink onto my bed, grabbing a cookie. For the first time all day, I feel my shoulders loosen.
They just stare at me.
"Is something the matter?" I ask.
They both shake their heads too quickly, and I just look at them in disbelief. Grace finally bursts.
"What happened between you and Aleksi?"
She claps her hand over her mouth as if it slipped out unintentionally, and Amber shoots her a look. I sigh, suddenly understanding. Rolling my eyes, I walk over to the bed.
"Nothing."
I try to say it casually, but my voice sounds too tight even to me.
Now it's their turn to look at me in disbelief.
"We could all hear you shouting," Amber says sheepishly, glancing nervously at Grace.
"You're both very loud when you're mad," Grace adds with a sly smile, but her gaze is still uncertain.
"Just a little disagreement is all." I shrug with exaggerated ease, grabbing another cookie.
"Oh… " Amber says, her eyes downcast.
I can't help but see small children with wide, watery eyes asking why their parents are fighting.
I huff out a laugh and roll my eyes again.
"I'm sure we'll work it out like always." The lie comes easily, and I pivot, changing the subject. "Why don't you just tell me everything I missed while I was gone, besides the cooking?" I take a large bite of my cookie for emphasis.
They seem to relax a little, relief washing over them. I almost feel guilty. But then they burst into detail after detail about the months I've been away, and I push the thought away.
The conversation flows endlessly, and the amount of stories they tell makes me feel like I've been gone for years. When they reach village news, though, they pause.
"What is it?" I say, assuming it will involve Aleksi.
"Nothing much, just…" They share a look, debating with their eyes.
I just keep looking at them, expectant.
Amber finally crumbles. "Sam called after you."
I choke on my milk. Sam? How long has it been since I remembered that name? I can't help the blush that creeps up my cheeks.
They ignore my reaction and hurry onward.
"He stopped by that first week, asking to talk to you, but when we told him you weren't there—"
"He asked us to tell you, when you got back, that he stopped by and—"
"He wants to see you."
Their voices tumble over one another. My face is hot as I dab the spilled milk off of me.
I hadn't thought of Sam in weeks, not with everything else going on. That day seems like so long ago. The thought of him is almost comforting. A stable island in the wild sea of chaos my life has become.
"Well then. I'll have to visit him," I say, trying to sound casual. "Thank you for telling me."
But for some reason, the words stick in my throat, like hard-to-swallow medication.
What would I say to him? What would he say to me? At least it won't be anything like this strange, raging thing with Aleksi.
I wonder vaguely why they didn't just tell me in their letters—I could have given them a message for him. But one look at their faces answers my question. Aleksi.
Disappointment mars their expressions.
Frustration bubbles up in me once again, but I know it isn't their fault.
It's his.
But it's pointless to dwell on it—I have to move on.
There will never be any reconciliation. No forgiving. Not after everything.
He is just another door I've shut, and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that there will never be anything between him and I. Not anymore.