psithurism

viii: why he had hid

"Where is my husband, Sir Juandre?"

"His Grace is busy at the moment, Madame."

It's like I went back to the past, no conversation, no shadows, just with more of a burden now— the memory of our dance troubling my entire existence.

After we arrive at the mansion, I never once saw His Grace again. Even Charlotte seems lifeless because His Grace refuses to talk to her.

"One more time, Young Miss."

I sighed while watching Charlotte. She's in her ballet class but she'd been messing up for the past two hours. It's obvious that her mind is out of the area.

I let out a deep exhale before standing up. "I guess my daughter is tired," I said. "Why don't we call it a day, Madame Fiona?" I asked her instructor.

The lady hesitated. "I suppose, Your Grace."

I nodded and forced a smile at her before turning my attention to Charlotte. "Child, do you want to drink tea in the garden?" I asked her.

She looked up at me before nodding.

"Help her change her clothes, Cory," I said. The nanny nodded and assisted Charlotte out the room.

"Your Grace, I think there's more to the Young Miss' change in attitude than what meets the eye," Madame Fiona said. "We've been studying that dance for almost a week and she's still not mastered the first half. Usually, by the first week, all she's doing is polishing her dance."

That made me sigh. "I'll talk to Charlotte about it," I said in a weak voice before heading toward the door. "Safe travels, Madame. Just ask Sir Juandre for the carriage that will take you home."

I asked Elle to prepare cookies and a tea for us. I sat on a tea table, waiting for my daughter— it didn't take long. Soon enough, she came to me in her sunny summer dress but her face thunders of a thousand storms. Elle and the other servants followed after her with the snacks.

We started the tea time silently consuming the tea. After a while, I signalled Elle and the others to leave us alone. I sighed while looking at the pouting face of my daughter.

"Is something bothering you, child?" I asked her gently.

She looked at me and I almost panicked when I saw tears in her eyes. "I-Is it t-true that you are n-not my m-mother?"

The question struck me harder than anything. "C-Child," I stuttered.

She looked up at me in a glare. "Don't call me that! You are not my mother!" With that, she stormed off angrily.

"Charlotte!" I called and follow after her.

I ran as fast as I could, trying to keep up with her sprint through my heavy dress. I arrived just in time to stop her from closing the door of her chamber.

I panted while silently enduring the pain of the door sandwiching my hand between the door frame. I pushed the door a little and forced my way in.

Inside, Charlotte cried while looking at me, tears flowing nonstop from her face. I sighed before walking close to her. She wasn't able to get away when I pulled her and wiped her tears away.

I carried her and sat on her canopy bed setting her in my lap. I gently carressed her hair while humming a little to calm her sobs.

"It's true," I said in a weak voice. "Your f-father c-conceived you with another woman but since the day I saw you, I had been taking care of you, and I would trade anything to be your real mother. C-Child, I love you than I could e-ever love anyone. Even if you're not from my own blood and flesh."