Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BAILEY - BEFORE
I’ve been in this beautiful cage for three months now.
Three months.
It’s hard to believe.
Through the barred lattice windows of my cottage, I’ve watched nature work its wonders. Lush green leaves slowly turning amber and gold. The gorgeous wildflowers of summer giving way to russet hued mums of fall. Trees shedding their colorful leaves, and the wind scattering them in all directions.
So much change out my window. But inside these walls, it’s been three months of careful conditioning.
Three months of him slowly reshaping me into something he finds acceptable.
Three months of learning to bite my tongue and speak only when spoken to.
In that time, I’ve learned that Sir keeps his estate running like a well-oiled machine.
He thrives on precision, control, and above all else, obedience.
Every day I wake up wondering if my family has stopped looking for me—if they think I’m dead.
I try to remember the sound of my mom’s voice, the way my dad pushes his glasses up his nose when he’s reading.
Leon’s features are fading too, like a photograph behind smudged glass.
But the way he made me feel is still there.
A kernel buried deep inside me that I’ll keep hidden, something they can never take away.
My days follow the same pattern. Wake up at seven to bathe and dress.
Breakfast at eight sharp. Usually a boiled egg and some tea, or a bit of fruit and yogurt.
There’s always cakes and pastries, but I’m never permitted to eat those, just salivate and watch him enjoy them when he’s there.
Then, after breakfast, I go to the study for lessons with Ms. Harrington until noon.
Etiquette, mainly. Then lunch, a salad or some broiled fish or chicken.
Supervised time in the library or gardens, a light dinner alone, then back to my cottage by nine.
It’s a routine he designed to lull me into compliance, and I hate how well it’s working. Still, I have the solitary moments in the cottage to think, and wish, and dream. That’s kept me going. Kept me strong. And as much as I hate the man, he hasn’t so much as laid a finger on me… Not yet.
Something feels different this morning though.
Slight changes that in a normal world I wouldn’t notice, but here, they might as well be a neon sign.
There’s music playing in the dining room, a lively classical tune.
On the table sits covered trays, but I catch a hint of bacon and sausages in the air.
When Sir joins me for breakfast, he’s wearing a gray suit instead of his usual navy, with a different patterned tie.
He has a spring in his step that makes me want to crawl under the table.
“Good morning, my dear.” He pats me on the shoulder and sits in his normal place at the head of the table.
“Such a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” he says, gesturing toward the tall windows where sunlight streams through.
“Autumn has always been my favorite season. The changing of leaves, the harvest... there’s something so satisfying about the transformation. ”
I nod and plaster a smile on my face. “Yes, it’s lovely, Sir.”
Lovely, splendid, superb. Acceptable adjectives according to Ms. Harrington. Because apparently the control freak bastard in front of me despises American slang. Not that awesome, great, or cool are actually slang words, but according to her they’re equivalent to saying fuck, shit, and ass.
My eyes stray to the covered dishes, and of course he notices.
“Ah, it’s quite the spread, isn’t it? I thought today called for something special.
” He lifts one of the silver lids with a flourish, revealing what looks like eggs Benedict.
Then two more—browned sausages and crispy bacon, buttered toast. My mouth waters even though I doubt any of this is for me.
As if the pastries weren’t difficult enough to watch him devour all the time, I might lose it if I have to sit here eating fruit while he eats all of that.
I swallow down my pooling saliva. “What’s the occasion, Sir?”
“Patience, Bailey. All will be revealed.” He serves himself a generous portion, then pauses, observing me in that way of his. I wish I could hide my face behind my hands. “Please, help yourself. Mr. Turner would be heartbroken to see this go to waste.”
It feels like a trap, like I’m supposed to politely refuse, but my arms betray me as they reach for the first platter.
He watches my every move, gently nodding, as I tentatively serve myself small portions from each platter.
After months of eating like a bird, this feels so indulgent.
I know my stomach will hurt, but it’ll be worth it.
“Go on,” he says once I finish serving myself. I sit up straight, and grab a bite of egg with my fork. He’s going to stop me, I just know it. But as I slide the bite into my mouth, he smiles. “There you are. You’ve earned this.”
The food turns bland as I swallow it down. Earned this. What will this reward cost me?
“Thank you, Sir,” I say, holding back my questions.
“You’re welcome.” He cuts into his eggs with precise movements, continuing, “I’ve been thinking quite a lot about you lately. About how remarkably well you’ve adapted to life here.”
I take a small bite of bacon, letting the salty goodness sit on my tongue. It’s so good, I could moan. I finish chewing and dab my lips with my white cloth napkin. “I try to follow the rules, Sir.”
“It’s much more than rule following,” he says.
I wait for him to continue but he takes his time, sipping from his cup and patting his lips dry.
“Ms. Harrington tells me your lessons are going well. Your conversation skills and vocabulary have improved quite dramatically, and even your reading selections have shown me that you’re mature for your age. ”
I have no idea where he’s going with this, so I incline my head. “Thank you, Sir.”
He lets out a pleased hum that reminds me of the first night I met him back at that hotel suite. “You’re special, Bailey. Such a good, obedient girl.”
I’ve never wished I could be someone else so badly. Someone more like Cat. I don’t want to be his obedient girl. His good girl. Knowing that’s how he thinks of me makes my stomach churn.
He spears a sausage with his fork and brings it to his lips. As he bites into it, his eye contact grows even more intense, more unsettling. “This is where I expect a response, Bailey.”
I clear my throat. “I apologize, Sir. Thank you for the compliment.”
He inclines his head then gestures to my plate. “Now, finish up. I’m sorry to say that I’ll be away for some time. I have business to take care of. Ms. Harrington and the others will see that you’re well taken care of and when I return, I hope to have a surprise for you.”
“What kind of surprise?”
His head snaps up and I immediately realize my mistake. With my heart pounding, I add, “I meant to say, if you would be so kind as to give me a hint, Sir.”
His fingers tighten around the handle of his teacup and he sucks air through his teeth.
“I won’t let you sully this wonderful breakfast, my dear.
” He sets down his teacup, and taps his fingers on the edge of the table.
“But since I’m in a good mood… let’s just say I’ve been in correspondence with a very important young man.
Someone quite close to me who’s been away far too long. ”
My mind whirls. What does this man have to do with me? My thoughts must be clear on my face as he goes on.
“No need to be frightened. He’s brilliant and quite handsome, though he’s rather stubborn.
What he needs is the right motivation to see things from a more mature perspective.
” Sir’s eyes gleam with pride. “A refined young woman who understands her place. Someone who can help him appreciate what he’s been missing by being so resistant to the opportunities presented to him. ”
He finishes the rest of his tea while I listen closely. “Three months of careful preparation, and you’re almost ready to serve your purpose. To help guide him toward accepting his destiny.”
My hand shakes as I reach for my glass of water. “And what is that destiny, Sir?”
He chuckles and drums his fingers on the table. “I must be going. Be a good girl while I’m away.”
I should be happy that he’s leaving, but that conversation left me with more questions than answers.
He leaves the table, and Ms. Harrington immediately enters the room like she has some kind of sensor that tells her when he moves more than a foot, but she’s not alone.
Another woman trails along behind her. She’s tall and thin, maybe only a few years older than me with light brown hair pulled back tight, wearing the same blue uniform that Ms. Harrison wears.
Sir speaks to them both in a low commanding tone before he walks out of the room without so much as a last glance my way.
Where did she come from? In all the time I’ve been here, I’ve only seen glimpses of other workers coming and going like shadows.
There’s Mr. Turner, the cook who prepares meals early in the morning and is usually gone by the time I sit down for breakfast. Then there’s a gardener or two.
I don’t know their names and I’ve barely gotten a look at their faces.
She must be new. Either that, or she’s been kept in a different area of the estate.
Ms. Harrington clears her throat. “This is Polly, she’ll be assisting me for the present. Polly has been with me for some time and knows the expectations she must adhere to.”
So in other words, don’t try anything. Got it.
“Hello,” I say, hoping for some kind of recognition in return. Anything that tells me she could be a potential ally. Or even that she’s not like Sir or Ms. Harrington.
Polly’s eyes dart quickly to mine, then away. “Miss,” she murmurs.
Ms. Harrington’s sharp gaze moves between us, clocking every micro-movement or unspoken gesture.
We both stay silent and still she clicks her tongue.
“Polly will escort you to your cottage today after her cleaning duties. I have other matters to attend to.” She turns on her heel and leaves us alone.
For a moment, neither of us say a word. I still don’t know what to think of her, and I’m sure she’s sizing me up as well. Then she asks, “Are you finished?”
“Yes, I’ve had enough.” Although a part of me wants to stuff bacon and toast down my bra for later.
“If you’ll wait in the sitting room, I can escort you once I finish clearing the table,” Polly says.
“I can help, if you’d like?” If anything it would save me from extra time sitting in my cottage alone and possibly give me some time to feel Polly out.
She shakes her head, her eyes wide. “I couldn’t ask that.
Please, I’ve got it.” She reaches for my water glass and our fingers brush for just a moment.
The contact is so quick but in that brief touch she managed to pass me a tiny folded up note.
I keep my expression neutral, while I casually move my hand to my lap.
“Follow me,” she says. Her face shows no change in expression, her tone completely dull.
If I didn’t have this piece of paper in my hand, I’d think I was imagining things.
I follow her into the sitting room and she gestures to the striped upholstered chair by the window. “Take a seat, I’ll only be a few minutes.”
As soon as she disappears back into the dining room, I turn and pretend to look out the window into the bright morning sun while my fingers work to unfold the tiny piece of paper.
I need to be careful, there’s cameras everywhere.
I haven’t seen them, but in the months here, I’ve picked up enough to learn that.
I’ll have to read it discreetly, with small glances.
The handwriting is small and cramped, like she wrote in a hurry.
You’re not alone.
I read the words again, trying to control my racing heart. Three simple words, but they mean more than she could ever know. I’m not alone, not as isolated as I thought. We’re in this nightmare together.
The sound of dishes clinking carries from the dining room. I fold the note, and discreetly stuff it in my bra.
“Ready?” she asks in that same neutral tone.
I nod and follow her outside, unable to hide the spring in my step. When I know for certain that we’re alone on the stone path, I whisper, “Thank you.”
Polly’s blank expression doesn’t change, but her step slows slightly. “Keep your head down,” she murmurs, so quietly I almost miss it. “Do what they say. But keep watching.”
“Watching for what?”
Her eyes dart toward the main house before she settles on me. “Opportunities.”
“But—”
She continues down the path ahead, speaking low. “I’ve been here a long time, watching, learning.”
“How long?” I ask, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and her hunched posture.
“Long enough.” She stops once we reach the cottage, opening the unlocked door. It’s always unlocked, unless I’m inside.
“Will you be here later? Tomorrow?” I have so many questions… but more than that I just want someone to talk to.
“Be patient.” She glances around again, before leaning in. “We’ll find a way out of our cages.”
Then she’s gone, making her way back up the path. I’m left feeling oddly hopeful for the first time in months.