My historical romance: part 2 ❤

Hi! Today I'm doing part 2 to my historical romance, so I hope you like it!


Chapter 2

As I am engrossed in my thoughts, contently swinging on the swaying bench, soaking in the Suns Rays and enjoying the freshness of the air, a shadow obscures the light, and I know exactly who it is from the way they hold their body, the size of their feet, the pleasant smell of safety and home radiating off of them like my favourite perfume, and the way their
hands are leisurely hanging by their sides, fingernails so neatly filed and kept, unlike my own which I have gnawed almost down to the bed, causing my hands to become a shocking sight to anyone who even briefly glances at them. I shut my book with a snap, loosing the page I was on, and for a split second I thought I'd deterred him, yet somehow I managed to do quite the opposite, the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a smile and the dimples I used to obsess over appear in his cheeks, making him seem as handsome as ever. Silently, I pray that he won't move and sit next to me, and it seems that the Lord was on my side, as he hesitated and stood lingering. 'Elizabeth, listen', he starts, and I roll my eyes, staying in control of my own thoughts and not letting my emotions run ahead of me, so far ahead that I can't even see them anymore. 'I know you came here hoping to never see my face again, and I can understand that, but know that I still think of you very fondly and hope that we can rekindle our sparks.' I turn my head to the side, facing him straight on for the first time. 'Colin, it won't work, we've had so many chances and each time you've thrown them all away, like they were worthless shillings to you, like I was a worthless shilling to you.' Blinking back tears, I elegantly rise from my seat and walk off, my hands shaking ferociously and my heart beating faster than a million miles an hour. 

Furiously, I kick a pine cone at the wall, it shatters at impact and makes me feel slightly better. My ears pick up the sound of footsteps hurrying towards me again, and so I angrily turn round, expecting Colin to be begging for forgiveness, however my eyes are met with the surprising sight of my plump, flustered maid, Lila, approaching me with a look of concern on her face. 'My dear Elizabeth, your sister has sent a letter to you, she says that she is...' Lila delves into her pockets and pulls out a letter, written in small, loopy cursive, the unmistakable handwriting of my eccentric younger sister, Bethany. 'She says that she is "looking forward to seeing you, as she will be visiting on the next Sunday coming and expects to stay for no less than a week".' I fiddle with the fraying hems of my lace gloves, glowering at my sister's nerve yet trying to keep myself together. 'She also mentions that she has acquired a male friend, miss.' Angrily, I look up, my face mirroring the disapproval on Lila's own round face, she fidgets awkwardly and I come back to my senses. I sigh and shake my head, with all that is taking place at the moment it seems a most inconvenient time for my sister to visit, and my hesitation to reach out to her when our mother died will surely be raised by her, and I will be faced with too many questions to answer in such a short time slot. 'Lila, I think some tea and scones are in order, I will be in my chamber, can you bring them up?' Lila nods, nothing is too much for her, she never seems to be overwhelmed or unnerved by situations like these. 'Certainly miss, right away, I'll see you there.' She curtsies clumsily and scuttles away to the kitchens, whilst I make my way down the garden path to the patio, which I cross and pull open the doors to the sitting room. My eyes take in the familiar sight of the overly floral furniture, so bright and plush it seems blinding, my nostrils sense the smell of dying fire embers and ash, and of the scented flowers resting in the vase, blending in with the rest of the room. Listening carefully, I can hear the soft padding of footsteps and voices echoing below me, the staff in the kitchen and their quarters, and I can vaguely make out the sound of my father's steady breathing in the adjoining room, at least I know he is still alive.

My heels click on the wooden floors as I head to my chamber, the only place where I can escape the melancholy madness that fills these four walls and in-prisons us like wild animals, and wanders the corridors and hallways, a prominent character often felt yet never seen. The house may as well be a mental asylum, the sadness and madness our keepers, and us the patients who have an incurable case of worry and sorrow, threatening to tip us over the edge. 

That's chapter two, and again, it's short but I hope you liked it anyway!
Alice xo