Page 16 of A Curse of Hope and Shadows: Part I
She knew she was willing to put up with a lot worse than Dimitri Von Mortimer for an awful lot less.
Adeline returned to the Manor on Monday morning with a spring in her step, two awful pictures her youngest brothers had drawn for her room, and a bouquet of wildflowers. Her hair was unbound around her shoulders and smelled of blossom and baking bread.
“Someone had a lovely day off!” Mrs Harper grinned, setting up a breakfast tray.
“I did, thank you, although it was far from restful!”
“A change is as good as a rest, or so they say.”
Adeline was inclined to agree. She found a vase in one of the cupboards—after asking for permission—and doused her blooms in water. She took them to her room along with the pictures, which she pinned above her bed. They certainly did make the room look brighter.
Job done, she took the tray from the table and hummed her way up to the Young Lord’s rooms, knocking before entering.
“Good morning!” she chirped. She knew she ought to demand an apology—or at least knew that one was needed—but she was determined not to be miserable.
Dimitri raised his head from the chaise, blinking at her as if she were some kind of fever-dream. She wasn’t sure it was the pleasant kind.
“You,” he said.
“You look surprised,” she said, sliding the tray onto the table. “I do work here.”
“I thought… you weren’t here yesterday.”
“It was Sunday. My day off.”
A long, heavy pause filled the room.
“You thought I’d left,” she realised.
“You would not be the first.”
“Surely they would have told you—”
“I did not want to ask.”
“I see,” she said stiffly, still waiting for the apology to materialise. “Well, I promise you, if I resign, I shall let you know in person.”
His jaw tensed. “I’d appreciate that.”
She set to work cleaning the room—he’d managed to make a frightful mess of the place in the past day—and then afterwards asked if there was anything else he required.
“I’ll sit outside then, until you require me.”
“All right.”
He did not call for her. Did not say anything to her all day, not even a thank you when she delivered his meals.
She was angry. Angry that she’d been made miserable despite her determination not to be, angry that he hadn’t apologised, or explained.
And bored. She was bored, too.
He didn’t say anything for the next three days, eating even less than usual.
“You shouldn’t waste your food,” she told him one evening.
“I didn’t like it.”
“They would make you anything you asked for.”
