Days passed once more. Abigail returned to work and Annalise was gratified to see her going about her business. There were fewer visitors to the house, and though both it and Annalise still felt unsettled, there was a feeling of unwinding to the place.
Annalise was sitting out on the balcony, wrapped against the chill, but enjoying the simple pleasure of well-made morning tea as she watched the land slowly begin to awaken. Snow lay on the ground, pristine over the lawns and broken where the border soil had been turned, ready for the Spring planting. There was a tingle of anticipation to the world, as if it were looking forward to the warmth returning.
In the distance, where the ground was dark under the shelter of trees, she could see the silhouettes of deer as they grazed. For a moment she allowed herself to feel excitement for the coming light, and for whatever adventures would come with it.
She saw a boy come running through the grounds, making his way to the servant’s entrance and the air of excitement and potential evaporated. Was this the catalyst to her future? What would it be? To take up her father’s mantle? Did he wish that, or would his business go to his eldest son, as tradition dictated? Would she be given an allowance and be left to live as she wished, or would she be forced to marry to keep her lifestyle?
She couldn’t help the small smile at the thought of working for her living. She was not a fool, and a Governess was a respectable position regardless of her mother’s opinions on middle class working women.
She barely moved as footsteps approached and a shadow fell across her.
“Mistress, a message from Sir Waltham for you.”
She nodded her thanks and took the thick envelope from the silver tray, breaking the seal and unfolding it.
She read in silence, her face a mask as she skimmed over the words.
“Thank you, Grantham,” she murmured, folding the letter and rising slowly. “I will be in the study all morning. Please bring lunch when it is ready.”
“Of course Mistress.”
She spent all morning writing letters, inviting to her home everyone that had been named in Waltham’s letter.
Each one was sealed with her father’s wax seal and added to the pile to be posted. Three days. That was all she had before her world would be irrevocably changed.
When she was done her hands trembled. It was all becoming so real and she didn’t like it.