Four #2
I felt gutted. Everything I had done, all the studying and work I did, had been pointless.
“Spencie, what’s wrong?” Olivia gently sat next to me, touching my arm, her eyes wide and concerned. She even spoke like some grand lady from a movie. Fredrick adored Olivia, while I was too independent, brash, and strong willed.
“Nothing.” I forced a smile on my lips, still defaulting to keeping her from the big bad world out there.
Who knows, maybe she could be one who just floats through it, fine with her duty as a baroness.
She had shown no signs of resisting so far, but that might change the older she got.
For some reason, I doubted it. Olivia seemed to drift around untouched by our confined world.
She loved this house and was happy to be here all the time. I couldn’t wait to break free.
“You are sad.” She touched the space between my brows as if she was some spiritualist. “Like your heart is breaking.”
I huffed, a sorrowful smile on my lips. “It feels like it is.”
She dropped her hands in her lap, staring at them. “It won’t be like that forever.”
“Maybe not.”
“I am sad as well.” She leaned into me.
“Why?”
“Because school is starting tomorrow. I hate being there. I want to be outside in my garden.”
“Funny. You are sad because you’re going to school, and I’m sad because I’m not.” I leaned my cheek on the top of her head. It was warm from soaking in the sun.
She took my hand in hers. “I don’t know why, but I feel scared.”
“Why is that?”
“Everything is going to change.”
“That’s what is exciting about life. Changing and growing. Learning new things. You’ll be fine.”
“Oh no, not me.” She popped her head up, her deep gaze piercing into mine. “For you.”
Snuggled on the window seat in the library, I tried to lose myself in a book, but found myself staring absently out the large window.
Green leaves on the tall trees lining our drive swayed and danced, mesmerizing me.
A light breeze wafted from the open window.
A touch of autumn licked at the air, lightly goosepimpling my bare legs.
It felt good. Like I was still alive, and if I shut the window, I would suffocate to death.
Sighing, I leaned against the built-in bookshelf that was also mirrored on the other side of the window lining the walls.
Besides my room, this was the only place that felt like home to me.
It was real. Comfortable. Not trying to put on a show and pretend it was something it wasn’t.
It was smaller and cozier compared to most of the house, smelling of leather-bound books, peonies from the garden on one side, and in the winter, a warm fireplace.
Even as a kid, when I got scared, it wasn’t my parents’ room I ran to, it was here.
I would wrap myself in the soft lambswool blanket, curl into either the overstuffed sofa or the wingback chair, and fall asleep.
Today it was not working. It was no longer easy to abate my worries and fears.
The monster under my bed had morphed into the terror of a stagnant life, which I found even more terrifying.
Because it was real. Smiling falsely at donation dinners donned in dresses and garments that would be able to provide a year’s worth of care or medication for animals.
I knew I could probably talk my uncle into letting me go abroad at least once a year for a week to Africa or South America, but it would be for publicity.
And without proper training in the field, I would be kept to very easy tasks.
I wanted to do real work. Stay for months or years.
Researching and going out in the field, fighting poachers, and helping those animals who could not protect themselves.
I slammed my book closed, giving up on the pretense I was reading it.
The house felt quiet and lonely today. Olivia was at school, my mother out with my aunt Lauren, having lunch with other noble wives, talking about some charity dinner.
Landen got dragged with my father and Fredrick, assessing our back property.
Dad wanted to sell it as we never used it anymore, the sheep having long since been sold, but Fredrick was fighting it.
It was territory to him in the sense if he let some go, it showed our standing was weakening. Slipping. That we needed money.
My father and uncle didn’t have jobs in the normal sense. Most of the money came from trade in the stock markets. They also invested in a few racehorses, but by the way my dad slumped over his desk going over the expenses, I knew things were tighter than normal.
“Because we can’t afford it!” My father’s words echoed in my head, weighing heavily on my chest.
I was stuck in a loop. I wasn’t allowed to go to school to gain skills to get a proper job, to get money. But because I had no money, I couldn’t go against the wishes of my family.
There was movement down our long driveway, a black car pulling my focus, my lids squinting to see who might be coming.
It was far too early for my mother to be returning.
She usually stayed at a luncheon until dinner, coming home drunk, claiming a headache, and going straight to bed.
The guys took the horses and were in the back of our property.
Who would be stopping by? Our estate was more than two hours from the capital city and well off the main road.
It wasn’t a convenient “I’ll pop over and say hi” kind of place.