Her feet carried her through the ground floor to the ground floor, past the empty ladies' salon, whose fancy furniture was now covered with large linen sheets. Towards the stairs leading to the spacious kitchen of the mansion, she hurried on, ignoring the thumping footsteps on the wooden steps above her and trying not to make a sound. She was clearly quieter than her father and he probably wouldn't follow her to the servants' floor anyway, he wouldn't stoop that far just for a slap in the face. And where was Fiona going to go? There was no one to take her in, no girl without parents had it easy out there. Fiona knew that just as there was no chance for her to escape him except for a wedding - the next contract for her freedom.
Not a single flower adorned the pretty vases on the polished wooden furniture, the candlesticks were largely covered in dried wax and new candles were completely missing... from most of the rooms, one was struck by the coolness of untouchedness. Grey. The word suited this former home so perfectly, that for her it had changed from security and warmth to that grey desolation that choked Fiona's breath. In her stomach burned the wounded pride and the quiet fear that it might catch up with her. Absent-mindedly, her fingers fumbled over the red mark on her face and, shivering, she exhaled as Fiona hurried down the basement corridor.
This was where the servants washed clothes, cooked, and performed any other activity assigned to them by the masters of the house. It was warmer, for the kitchen and also the washroom always exuded the heat of boiling water and a crackling fire. Since her father had forbidden the servants to have any contact with Fiona, she could not even see the two maids with whom Fiona shared an expedient friendship. Even the old cook, who was probably the closest thing to a mother in this house, hardly ever left the kitchen to follow Charles' instructions. Perhaps that was why no one ventured out of the rooms when Fiona crossed the narrow corridor and headed for the servants' exit. Like hell, she would waste her time talking about good breeding and the right way to pour tea. Should they train dogs and other hapless creatures, but she didn't want her mind.... someday as dull and deadened as that of the Misses and High Ladies.
As Fiona hurried down the corridor, her father's rumbling behind her, a young woman in a white bonnet poked her head out of one of the rooms. Her eyes widened when she saw Fiona, and she opened her mouth... Charles cursed at the entrance to the basement. Immediately the maid's jaw snapped shut again and she quietly disappeared into the washroom as if she had seen nothing. Fiona was grateful to her, for at least a little help.... even if it was only silence.
The small door at the end of the corridor came within reach and Fiona half bumped against the gate, and caught herself on it, only to hurry across the threshold seconds later. Sunlight shone rich and golden against her, lovingly stroking the delicate pattern of her dress and fair skin.... until it touched her fingertips. It tickled the tip of her nose, the natural warmth of a crisp day bedding Fiona in an intimate embrace, and had she had more time, surely she would have stopped to enjoy it.
But she did not pause but walked quickly to the small gate that led out onto the pavement of the street. The Blackfeuvers currently occupied Charles' townhouse, as her father had been in London on business for several months, and the central location meant that Fiona only had to slip through the garden gate to mingle. It was a beautiful day and several ladies in pretty dresses passed the pavement with white parasols.
Fiona may not have had a maid holding her umbrella, nor a male companion, but she still hardly attracted attention. As quickly as she could, the young woman hurried through the bustle of spring and past open shops, haggling traders with colorful fruit and vegetable stalls until she reached quieter districts. She did not allow the house a single glance over her shoulder, for Fiona knew that her father would not follow her into the street. Sooner or later she would have to return, but not yet.
YOU ARE READING
A Neverland Tale - HOOKED (eng)
Fantasy** Only one thing can still prevent Neverland's downfall: In the dark times when a star's light perishes, a new one must be found! ** Neverland - a world in which simply everything was possible as long as you could dream it. But behind a shining lig...
