Page 4 of Scars of a Passionate Revenge
And since that day, she had felt her father slipping away from her. He had allowed this woman into their lives, and it almost felt as if he had allowed her to build up this barrier between them that still existed now, even after she had been living in their home for all these years.
“Are you listening to me?” Dorothea barked, interrupting her reverie.
She turned to face her, pulling at a stray strand of blonde hair that had fallen out of its arrangement.
“And stop fiddling with your hair, for goodness’ sake! Honestly, you are barely fit to be seen. What if we should have visitors this morning?”
“I do not think we are expecting anyone, Madam,” Alice replied quietly, tucking the strand of hair behind her ear.
“Well, of course we are not expecting any gentlemen callers for you!”
Alice felt her cheeks burn. It felt so unfair that she had to put up with this treatment from her stepmother, but she knew that answering back would only make things worse.
“In fact,” Dorothea said, looking at her intently, as if she was plotting something, “I think I shall have to ask my maid to help you to get ready for the next ball. Clearly that girl who looks after you does not know what she is doing. Yes, indeed, my Marie shall get you ready for the Riversdale ball, and make sure that you look your best.” She paused and glared at Alice. “And you will dance! With anyone who asks you.”
Alice’s heart was racing by now. She desperately wanted to fight back, to tell her stepmother that she would not do as she was told, that she would only behave as she herself saw fit. But she did not want to get into an argument. It would change nothing, as she knew from previous experience.
Instead, she simply nodded. “I am sure you are right, Madam,” she said in the most neutral voice she could muster. She got to her feet and picked up her book. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a headache. I must go to my room and rest.”
Dorothea let out a sigh of exasperation. “There is always something the matter with you!”
Alice ignored her and crossed the room, not even looking at her. She left the drawing room and ran upstairs to her room, then pulled the bell for her maid. She shuddered at the thought of Marie doing her hair for the next ball.
She was French and a proper lady’s maid, as befitted the wife of a baron, but she was very rough when dressing hair, and pulled hard to tighten one’s corset. She hoped she could think of a way to make sure that her own maid, Sarah, could help her instead. She was much kinder and gentler.
Sarah arrived within a few moments, and Alice asked her to bring up some tea. She had been about to call for some when Dorothea had arrived in the drawing room, but she did not want to share a pot with her stepmother. She was happier alone, in the solitude of her room, with just her books and her thoughts for company.
Thoughts which often took her into a fantasy land, where she did meet a man she wanted to marry. Someone handsome, someone intriguing. Someone who would take her away from this house and make her his bride.
The pot arrived and Alice prepared her own cup, then decided to make one for her father too. She thought of taking it to him herself, but she did not want to run into Dorothea again.
She called Sarah back into the room. “Please will you take this to my father?” she asked. “And please also take him some pastries from the kitchen. I do not think I have seen him at breakfast for a good few weeks now and I worry that he is missing out on some of the cook’s best delicacies. A good apple tart is sure to make him feel better!”
Sarah smiled at her mistress. “Of course, Miss, I will do it right away.”
Alice nodded. “Thank you, Sarah. I am so worried about him. He has been ill for such a long time now, and the physician cannot seem to find any cause for it.”
“I am sure the tea and cake will cheer him up, Miss.” Sarah looked at her closely. “Is there something else troubling you? You seem a little upset, if you do not mind me saying so.”
Alice looked at her maid fondly. She and Sarah had been together for a long time now, and Alice saw the girl almost more as a friend than a servant. And in truth, Sarah was often the only person she could talk to about her feelings, and her troubles. She let out a sigh.
“My stepmother has just been upbraiding me for not dancing with the gentlemen who asked me to at the soiree last night. I do not understand why she will not just leave me alone, to make my own decisions. Is it so hard to believe that I would prefer to choose my own husband, or even to have none if I never meet anyone who I can truly love?”
Sarah placed a reassuring hand on Alice’s arm. “I am sure that your father will see things your way and support you.”
“I hope so,” Alice replied. “I really do hope so.” She shuddered a little at the thought of her stepmother pushing her into a marriage that she didn’t want. She could only hope and pray that her father recovered his strength soon, so he could support her as she navigated this Season, and the next, and however many it took for her to find a husband, or accept her fate as a spinster.
“Please do go to him now,” Alice said, and Sarah withdrew, carrying the laden tray to take up to the baron. Alice sat back in her chair by the window, picked up her book again and tried to relax. Her father may not think of her much, but the least she could do was show some consideration towards him.
***
The baron looked up in surprise as the door to his chamber swung open, and Sarah entered, carrying a tray laden with pastries and a cup of steaming tea.
“Miss Alice asked me to bring this up to you, My Lord,” she said softly, with a slightly wobbly curtsy.
He felt a little sorry for the girl; it must be hard to curtsy while carrying such a heavy tray. “Set it down here, my dear,” he said, patting the counterpane next to him. It was several days now since he had left his chamber, and it was rather pleasant to see a new face. “That was kind of Alice, to think of me.”
“My Lord,” Sarah replied, dropping another curtsy. “Is there anything else that I can fetch for you?”
