Keep My Heart- Prologue

Keep My Heart- 33

"Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes."

-Oscar Wilde

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A chilly rain fell outside, watering the land, and coloring the red bricks of Hawke's Vale a few shades darker. It created a gentle pattering, which was calming in an otherwise tiring day of keeping up with the servants. The light of candles flickered softly over the figures in the dining room. It was a rather cold evening, but it was not entirely dark out of doors. Despite the overcast skies, there was still the dusky sunlight that was sliding down behind the trees.

Three of them sat at the long, reflective table. There was the elderly man who ate his soup slowly, the dashing young man ate heartily, and the wan young woman with dark circles beneath her eyes did not eat at all. Instead, she stared at the bowl, full of piping hot tomato soup. It was not appealing to her.

Nights spent restless and hungry had been her enemies. If she wasn't exhausted beyond exhaustion, her stomach grumbled and she craved a piece of cake or something of the type. But tonight, the sight of Rashleigh, sitting across from her where her husband should have been...it made her absolutely ill.

"Are you feeling well?"

Emery's concerned voice interrupted her negative thoughts. He noticed that she had not eaten, and that there was a forlorn expression meandering mercilessly over her.

"Not entirely," she replied, and took hold of her spoon. 

He did not reply.

After that, she ate a little, hoping to discourage Emery from fussing over her. Tonight, her mind was extremely heavy. She thought continuously of Emerson's wife, and her children. The fright on the woman's face, and the relief...she was bothered by it, very much. If she had been in a situation identical, would someone have been as merciful?  

"When's your old man supposed to be home?" Rashleigh blurted out, and took a drink from his glass that Olivia was certain was wine filled. 

With a certain amount of disdain, she answered him. "I haven't any idea." However, she did not add that she still was not entirely certain he would be returning. For the sake of her own sanity she did not mention it. It certainly did not occur to her why he would be asking. Indeed, she thought, he probably needed money, and did not want to ask her for it. 

She glared at him momentarily, with visions of passionate kisses dancing in her mind, nights so voluptuous she hated to remember them, and she hated him. Wordless, she left the table, storming from the dining room as she had when Adam told her Rashleigh hadn't intended to marry her. Unlike that awful night, she took the stairs with grace, knowing she was not that same girl. Of course she was not the same. How could one be the same, having been tossed down like a strumpet?

Oh, she thought, but the beauty was that she had been picked up and dusted off by a man much better than the one who had thrown her down. 

With that thought, she entered their dark chamber, sinking gratefully onto the mattress. Several moments passed, in the quiet darkness. She breathed, listening to the sound of the rain outside, and she placed a careful hand on her back, where it ached. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine that he was somewhere near, across the hall, down the stairs, in the office.