A Noble Cause

IV - The Portrait

Four: The Portrait

Five hours had passed since the carriage had left Bright Manor and its inhabitants were growing more and more uneasy every time the clock struck another hour.

Olivia and Isaac started a long process of trying — and this word deserves to be emphasised, for they had a herculean job ahead of them — to clean the bottom floor; they started by taking the dust off the living room, which took much longer than they initially thought it would. The entire Buckingham Palace staff would probably need an entire day for the entire estate; gardens apart, because that would require weeks of continuous work to be recovered. Still, Olivia and Isaac fared well against the piles of dust and spider webs at every corner of the living room with bravery and resilience; a fair degree of stubbornness, too, but that was much needed. Coincidentally, at the very moment when Lord O'Cain emerged from the corridor into said room, they finished washing the floor.

His Lordship took a long look around the room, seeming positively impressed, if not almost invisibly pleased. He felt the will of taking a deep breath for the first time in a long while and the ghost of a smile briefly appeared on his face until it was quickly replaced by his usual mournful face. That brief demonstration of any feeling other than sadness, bitterness and outrage, even if short-lived, was enough to change the way Isaac and, to a smaller extent, Olivia perceived him.

"What is this smell?" He asked.

"It is lavender, my lord," said Olivia, making an old-fashioned bow like those one reads in novels, which, albeit she was no Mary Hopkins, was definitely something she learned from a novel or two she carried with her. "It was the only cleaning product I found that would make the house smell like anything other than... well... how it was," she giggled, looking at Isaac, who smirked. "How do you like it?"

"It's good for a change," he admitted. "Only... it reminds me so much of... Where did you find this product?"

"Why, my lord, I found it in a small room by the kitchen alongside lots of other bottles. Most of them smelt bad, but this one didn't."

"May I see this bottle?"

"Yes, my Lord, it's here. I used it all, I'm afraid, but it was the only way, as I'm sure you will understand," she said, as she took the bottle out of her apron's pocket and handed it to Lord O'Cain. "I also quite liked its colour; purple is so pre..."

"You fool!" He shouted at Olivia, ceasing her words and causing her mouth to drop. "This is not a cleaning product; it is perfume! Did you not read it?"

"I-I am s-... so sorry, my Lord, I could not understand what was written," she looked desperately at Isaac, who tried to calm her with a look, for saying anything could make matters worse.

"This was my wife's favourite!"

"I-I didn't mean to, my Lord, I would have neve..."

"Quiet! Go pack your stuff at once. I do not ever want to see you again, you stupid wretch!"

She nodded in response, for she feared what her words could cause; there was not much she could do about it, but Isaac could not watch it without saying a word. The tears were coming to her face quickly and no sooner had she turned away, than she started crying.

"Olivia, wait!" Isaac called. "My lord, I do not think-"

"Your thoughts aren't required, either, so don't bother thinking."

"I'm afraid I must—"

"I'm afraid neither of you should be here in the first place, so do as I commanded her to: you leave with her at once."

"No, my lord, I shall not."

Olivia widened her eyes and Isaac felt his pulse under his skin. It was something he wanted to say — it had been building inside of him —, but he had no idea it would come out until it suddenly did. It never would have if he had been at Wulworth Place, he was sure, but that was not Wulworth Place: that was Bright Manor and something about the lack of humanity in Lord O'Cain, the way he treated Olivia, and, why not, the grassy hills of Wiltshire, caused him to burst.