Purcell's Pairings | ✔

XII

     OVER THE NEXT few weeks, Annalise hadn't ever believed to have lived in such misery. She felt lost, endlessly traveling through prodigious amounts of thick, misty fog, clouding her vision to such a degree that she had no choice but to fall back to where she had first emerged. Even at that, her sense of helplessness and despair was not resolved, for the copious amounts of opaque condensation only pushed her back towards the opened arms of John Arten. John, who'd instructed her to lay her troubles on him and not her sisters, for, in his eyes, they were far too weak and uneducated to know of any possible solution. Then, to make things worse, followed up by scoffing about how Annalise's issues wouldn't be worth a moment to sit and hear of them, for they would be constructed of nothing less than absolute nonsense. 

     She had no paintbrushes, no quills or wooden pencils, not even a dreadful book she could flip through. John supplied her with fabric to sew and a cloth in case she wished to polish up the items that were spread out around the house. Annie knew he couldn't force anything on her, given she was inside a house that belonged to her own family, but he was going to try. It made her wonder with doubt just how strict he'd be if she did indeed have to marry him. 

     Annie had spent an awful lot of time alone with her wandering thoughts after giving into John on the porch some days ago, but she still had yet to find a way out of this potential marriage. John had made it astronomically clear that he had the intention of marrying her, and although Annalise felt she hid it rather well to the others around her, she knew without a doubt that she'd decline his offer; that went without a second thought. But how was the question. This man was not shy when it came to letting others know that he did not like the word "no." How much power could the man really hold, though? He ran a bookstore, after all, not a high-end economical factory. More than you could ever imagine, came that annoying little voice in response to her wonders. Who was she to judge when it came to power? She was only a lady, after all.

     Sighing, Annalise brushed the thin strand of hair that was tickling her brow out of her face, then picked up another China plate. The worst part of the entire situation was, she was actually going along with what he was telling her. Like cleaning, for example, which was what she was currently doing. It was difficult to do anything against her will when his eyes were consistently on her; he found a way every time, even when he wasn't visibly present. She'd made the mistake of underestimating that once, when she took off towards the small stables on the property over after he claimed he was going out on a business meeting. She'd managed three successful steps out the door before he had roared her name. She'd become terrified, not having expected it in the slightest, and rushed back in. The strangest part was, she never figured out where he had been when he demanded she returned back inside. Nobody found it unusual, either. Annalise supposed that was most likely due to the fact that the rakes in the house were too busy flirting up a storm with the ladies who'd proclaimed themselves to be free and single to notice John's controlling behaviour. The ladies were too busy charming the free men to scope out anything odd about Mr. Arten. She'd even been told by one that John Arten was dashingly handsome, but twirled off with a flirtatious giggle before Annie had the chance to change the stranger's mind. 

     It did not help her much that both Esther and Maisie were highly invested in the men in the house, too. Esther, of little surprise, had been spending more and more time with James Trevor, and Maisie flirted with so many of them that Annalise could not even begin to attempt to sort out all of their names. She couldn't help but fret they were growing more distant, and although she knew they had every right to travel down their own separate path and make their own decisions, it made Annalise feel more lonely than ever. She didn't have anyone to turn to, to spill her troubling thoughts if need be. I suppose the wall is my best option, she miserably thought to herself. It seems to be the only thing that has remained consistent this entire time. And with that, she let out a sob-like groan, slouching against the doorframe. Her sore hands tossed the old rag on the floor in front of her, and she tilted her head back with a deep sigh. Life felt wretched.