The Manor

Burn

Victoria stood in her nightdress, watching the gargantuan house burn, waves of heat rolling across the open lawn and washing over her, drying out her eyes, prickling her skin.

Her heart sat within her chest, as dull and dry as her face, empty of everything except... relief.

Too many tears had been spilled in that house. Too many sobs suffocated within its stone walls. Too much sweat spent working to appease, to dance the right steps in their own daily life.

Voices called on the other side of the house. They were fighting it, trying to get the flames under control, racing for help from the neighbors. She did hope that everyone got out. The servants. Her lady's maid. The sweet old night cook that would send her up sweets. Even the head butler who never bothered to look her in the eye.

But it was too late to save the manor. Too late to save a lot of things.

Someone yelled her name.

She couldn't help the chuckle that rolled out of her, though there was no mirth in it.

"Victoria?" Her mother in law stepped close, the reflections of fear and flames filling her eyes. "When James returns, he'll... he'll be so angry. If he finds out..."

Victoria carefully took the tiny woman's hand in her own, turning them both away from the house, her strides deliberate as they headed toward the woods.

"He won't," she said gently as they stepped into the tree line, golden light from the flames swallowed up by black shadows.

"He'll never find out that we lived."