Yours Truly

Chapter Nineteen

He closed the door behind him as he left, leaving Adelaide alone in the dark room with only a single candle to light her way.

She drew closer to the table. Dragging her fingers over the pristine white canvas, she imagined everything that it could become. Every person it could show. Every love story it could tell. And Knowles wanted her to replicate someone else's piece. To steal a part of the story they wanted to tell and sell it for his own monetary gain. She could understand stealing to feed your family, to clothe and house your children. But he had enough wealth. He could likely feed, clothe, and house a great number of orphaned children. But he insisted on using his power and wealth to gather more power or wealth.

What was it that created such different people like Margaret and Knowles? They both had influence but they used it in such different ways. Margaret, who could have been deaf to the pleas of the downtrodden as a result of her peerage, had worked to better other people's lives. To help them any way she could. And there was Knowles, who had presumably grown up in the working class as no one had mentioned otherwise. Besides, crime among the peerage would likely be swept under the rug or dismissed as a fun amusement to take up their idle hours. Supposing he was born into the working class, he would have been exposed to everyone Margaret helped.

But from what Adelaide had seen, he would be more likely to swindle people like Velma then help them by funding their dreams. But what did it all come down to? Adelaide had to believe that people like her father and Knowles weren't born that way. Perhaps it was simply the circumstances they survived that moulded them into the people they were today. So she pitied them. To a certain degree. No one should have to suffer anything that causes them to be so hateful and uncompassionate. But they also had a choice. They weren't children anymore, shaped by circumstances beyond their control. Due to her father's cruelty, Adelaide could have become just like him. It came down to her choosing who she wanted to be. And men like her father and Knowles had chosen incorrectly.

But there was nothing that Adelaide could do at this moment. As angry as it might make her, she couldn't take down Knowles' enterprise alone. She needed to wait until she was rescued.

"Where in the devil are you, Henry?" She murmured to herself as she began working on the painting.

Several hours later, her back was demanding that she stop. Hunching over a painting for hours on end had made her entire body hurt. Her back just appeared to be complained the most loudly. She forcefully blinked her eyes as they drifted out of focus. The dim light of the candle had done nothing to beat back the oppressive darkness. Surely they had to provide her with food or let her sleep? They couldn't just keep her locked up in the room until she finished and expect her to produce a realistic copy.

"Hello?" Adelaide called as she heard shuffling somewhere nearby. The darkness was playing tricks on her senses. She couldn't tell if the sounds were coming from inside the room or beyond the door.

"Is anyone there?"

Silence greeted her. With a sigh, she returned to the painting. Eventually, her exhaustion and the wear on her body forced her to sleep. She curled up on the uncomfortable stone floor and faced the door. She wanted to wake if the door opened in case they brought her food. Was a blanket or pillow too much to ask for? They were asking her to aid them with committing a crime after all!

In the middle of her restless sleep, the door swung open with a loud bang. Adelaide startled awake, stunned by the sudden noise and the overwhelming light after hours in the dark.

"Get up," The unfamiliar voice ordered as Adelaide sheltered her eyes from the harsh light. As her eyes adjusted, she began to see the stranger's face and the familiar man standing over his shoulder.