HER
I stare at the unfamiliar face in the mirror.
This can't be me.
This foreign woman is all gauntness, all sorrow. Her hair hangs limp, her eyes are red and puffy—underlined with dark circles.
I sit alone, hunched, silent—reduced to the woman in the mirror.
Everything in this room is broken—including me. Lady Eliza abandoned it after she vented her anger by smashing things.
The once ornate mirror now cracks and distorts my expression as I stare, motionless. I don't bother looking away, even when I hear the door creak open. I am beyond care, beyond fear.
I hear a delicate sniff of displeasure and finally tear my eyes away from the strange woman in the mirror.
My whole body is numb, and even when I see that it is the Duchess, only an echo of fear pangs in me. I stare at her, looking so out of place in her finery among the mess.
She clears her throat delicately.
"This situation is… unfortunate."
I continue to stare at her, expression blank. She shifts uncomfortably and uses an elegant hand to brush a stray grey hair back into its pristine place.
"You have to know nothing good will come of it becoming public knowledge."
She seems to be waiting for me to respond, but I don't have it in me.
She sighs, frustrated.
"I'm sure we could come to some sort of deal to make sure that doesn't happen?"
I blink at her. Honestly, I should have expected this. And yet, it only widens the fissures in my already broken heart.
The Duchess is the first person to seek me out. And it is not out of care or concern. Not even pity.
No. That would be too much to ask.
I turn back to the mirror. It is abominably rude, ignoring and dismissing a Duchess as a lowly ladies' maid.
The thought almost makes me laugh, because I realize I'm not even a ladies' maid anymore.
The Duchess, however, seems unconcerned, and takes my turning from her as agreement instead of frustration.
"I knew you would see sense."
I see her straightening her dress out of the corner of my eye.
"Anyway, Lady Eliza and Lord and Lady Ashworthy have already agreed to the terms."
My heart stops.
I look at her, eyes wide.
No.
They wouldn't.
Would they?
The Duchess doesn't notice my panic, only continues on.
"You take the money, you disappear—I've got you a nice job as a ladies' maid with a… noble family," she almost scoffs, but I'm too distracted by what she said before to wonder what that means. "And most importantly, you will never ever breathe a word of this to anyone, alright?"
She sounds as if she is talking to a child.
For the first time since everything happened, I feel raw, unbridled anger. How dare they? These presumptuous, pompous people are deciding my life for me. Discarding me like an inconvenient insect.
My fists clench under the table, ears beginning to ring.
But the Duchess continues before I can erupt.
"Anyway, it would be much worse for you than Pip."
Her words wash over me like ice water, extinguishing my anger and leaving cold emptiness in its wake.
She's right.
Even Lady Eliza, who is—who was—my closest friend, turned on me. This time, as emptiness sweeps through me, it feels all-consuming.
I feel myself falling, sinking slowly into a murky abyss. Suffocated.
I distantly notice the Duchess placing a cheque in front of me. Setting it down with such an air of finality, it feels as though she is pushing me further down.
In the mirror, the hollow woman looks back at me with disgust.
—
I breathe in deeply as I open my dresser, my only personal drawer, containing the few things I bother to keep.
In the back corner, barely peeking out of the shadows, is a stack of envelopes. All addressed in the same, neat handwriting. All empty, but sent containing small slips of paper worth more money than I would see in a lifetime.
A week ago, on the first of the month, another one came. Like clockwork. Like a stabbing reminder of what I've done. What was done to me.
Usually, I would make it last the whole month, going into town each week and buying food and clothes for those in need. This month, though, I spent a large chunk all at once, buying a job and a place to stay for that poor woman.
This is the only protest I can manage. Only silent defiance I can show.
Carefully, I tuck the most recent letter into the back of my drawer, placing it neatly on the stack with the others.
Though I give away the money like it is nothing, I keep the envelopes. To remind me of my reality. To keep myself in check.
But this month, when I softly close the drawer and look up into the small mirror that sits on my dresser, for the first time in what feels like ages, I see myself again.