Light flooded the lounge, painting Master Gerald's scrunched expression red and yellow. The bloody sky outside the window reflected in his wine glass, which he studied with a curious expression on his face. His features had once been considered "good looking", but due to years of drinking alcohol, it had become puffy and red, like a wound undealt with. Even now, he drank his anger away into a stupor, downing an entire bottle of prime wine in mere moments.
Maids shuffled around the room, attempting to remain silent, while laying down plates of meat, vegetables, salads and cakes across the tea table stretching ahead of Master Gerald. Instead of analyzing the mouthwatering meals plated ahead of him, he stared to the ceiling, admiring the chandelier hanging precariously above.
Money. My wealth. Mine.
His nose twitched. "Is that the scent of- smoke?" He glanced around the lushly decorated room, his eyes glassy. Seeming to only just register the meal in front of him, he glared at a nearby maid.
"And this is?" He pointed to what was obviously meat.
The maid stared at him, bewilderment plain across her face. Her fellow maids dipped their heads in pity. It was only a matter of time before she was chewed out for something or other.
"Dinner, Master Gerald." She began, internally praying. "I shall take away anything you dislike."
Her response seemed to be satisfactory, as Master Gerald, instead of yelling as usual, leaned back in his chaise lounge. His hand moved over something as he re-adjusted his position.
"There is a new letter sir. Take a look."
The unopened letter, pristine white in color, seemed to almost smile at him.
"I told her to stop writing those. How many does this make it?"
His fingers slowly grasped the corner of the paper.
"...32."
Within a second it was reduced to a ball of scrap.
"Tch...she never learns. This will be the last she writes. I swear on it.
He tossed the ball in the air, his expression melting from curious to bloodthirsty. "...I am not hungry." He tossed the drink aside, splotching a nearby pillow deep red and hitting the hardwood floor with a smash. A maid hurriedly raced towards the glass remains.
"IMBECILE! LEAVE IT!"
She looked petrified. Quaking in her boots as if nearly killed, she stood up. What seemed to be a mumbled "please forgive me" escaped her trembling lips, and she turned away to the door with a dash. But not before she left did a ball of paper hit her head. The letter. It fell to the ground barely outside the entrance. She did not turn back to grab it this time.
The hallway seemed to never end. She wanted out of here.
Why couldn't it be Mrs. Gerald? She never got mad. I want to quit I want to quit, I WANT TO QUIT!
Her dash turned into a sulk, irritation burning deep inside her. She quickened her pace, and in doing so, accidently bumped into something rather roughly. The object fell to the carpeted floor with a "thwomp" noise.
"Oh!" The maid turned around. Her eyes slanted, and then widened.
"PRINCESS Lorraine! MY APOLOGIES!" She squeaked, grabbing the girl's arm tightly. "Are you hurt?"
The princess brushed the hair out of her eyes. "I am fine. No worries. Why were you running?"
It took a moment for the maid to articulate her thoughts.
I'm running because of you, you sick little waste of space: had it not been for you I'd still be enjoying my job.
Forcing down those thoughts, she helped the princess up.
"I made a few mistakes, and was called out of here. I apologize for the scare! I will be sure to keep my anger in check next time!"
Her cheerfulness was as genuine as a celebrities' skin. Plastering a smile onto her face, she glanced at a clock hanging from the adjacent wall. "Look at the time! It is time for me to head home now. If you will excuse me."
The maid's humming filled the silence of the hallway. Swiftly brushing off her apron, she left the room. The click of her heels faded as she walked away.
Lorraine turned her head back to the lounge, her destination, trying to ignore the words the maid mumbled under her breath.
"Idiot princess."
She turned around at those words, closing her eyes and sighing.
"I love how some things never change."
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YOU ARE READING
The Letter That Reached
RomansaLorraine is a slave in a pretty dress. Forced to abide by whatever her father says, her room becomes a prison, one which she desperately wishes to escape from. What keeps her from running, however, is her love of letter writing, even though she has...
