Ashes of Thornwood

Chapter 13

It was early May, and the warm breath of spring had begun to breathe life back into the fields surrounding Thornewood. The days were growing longer, and the once barren land was now dotted with fresh green shoots, the promise of new life stirring beneath the soil. The air was fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle hum of insects filled the warm afternoons. But within the grand walls of Thornewood, there was no such renewal. Mrs. Thorne's health had taken a severe turn, leaving her bedridden, her once formidable presence reduced to a frail shadow of the woman she had been. The doctors came and went, their faces grim, their diagnoses vague and unconvincing. They spoke in hushed tones of "nervous conditions" and "exhaustion," but the truth was, they didn't know what was wrong with her. And so, she lingered in a state of quiet suffering, while the weight of running Thornewood fell squarely on my shoulders.

Five months pregnant now, my body had begun to change in ways that were both wondrous and overwhelming. The once subtle curve of my belly had become more pronounced, a constant, physical reminder of the new life growing inside me. But as much as the child stirred within me, filling me with a profound sense of purpose, there was an undeniable sorrow that clung to the halls of Thornewood—a feeling that life was ebbing away in tandem with Mrs. Thorne's health.

Sebastian's absence grew more palpable with each passing day, especially now that his mother's condition had worsened. A week ago, a letter had arrived from him, crumpled and weathered from its long journey. His handwriting, so familiar and comforting, felt like a lifeline. Yet, the contents of the letter filled me with a sense of unease. He had written to instruct me to hire a new plantation manager to assist with the running of the estate in his absence—a man named Thaddeus Crowley. The name was unfamiliar, and the urgency in Sebastian's words suggested that he did not entirely trust my ability to manage alone. The strain of handling everything without him had been growing unbearable, and his request, though practical, felt like a reminder of my inadequacies.

One afternoon, I sat beside Mrs. Thorne's bed, my hand resting protectively over my growing belly. The baby kicked softly, and I gently massaged the spot, drawing comfort from the tiny movements. Mrs. Thorne's breathing was shallow as she dozed fitfully, her thin frame barely making a dent in the bed. The heavy curtains were drawn back just enough to let in the soft light of the afternoon sun, casting long shadows across the room. The air was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs and the faint, sweet smell of decay. I reached for her hand, which lay limp against the bedclothes, and gently squeezed it, hoping to offer some semblance of comfort.

"Mrs. Thorne," I whispered, leaning closer so she could hear me. "I received a letter from Sebastian. He's asked that I hire a new plantation manager to help with the estate. His name is Thaddeus Crowley. I... I think it's for the best, given your condition."

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she fixed me with a bleary, unfocused gaze. It took a moment for my words to register, but when they did, her expression darkened, and she frowned, her thin lips pressing into a tight line.

"Crowley... Yes, I remember him," she muttered, her voice raspy and weak. "I suppose it's necessary. You've been doing your best, but it's clear you're in over your head, Evangeline. This estate is too much for someone like you to manage alone."

Her words, though harsh, were not unexpected. I had grown used to her sharp tongue, but the underlying truth in them stung. I bit back the retort that rose to my lips, reminding myself that her harshness was likely born out of pain and frustration. "I'll make the arrangements," I said instead, my voice steady. "And I'll continue to take care of everything here. You just need to focus on resting."

Mrs. Thorne's eyes flickered closed again, and she sank back into the pillows, her breathing becoming more labored. I sat with her a while longer, listening to the uneven rhythm of her breath, before finally leaving the room, my heart heavy with the weight of the responsibilities that lay ahead.