The Locket

Chapter Five, A Trial.

Yesterday's dinner left much to be desired. I went to bed last night, wondering what scheme I've been wrapped up in. We still have no clue why we are here. But what we do know, is that we aren't being considered as guests, rather, we're being considered as pawns.

I stared out my window, admiring the scene. It hasn't rained once. Not since yesterday when we got here, and it really seized raining shortly after we did. I cannot, for the life of me, get over the beauty of this place. It's as if we've landed in a painting.

At home, our church had the most beautiful painting. It was this scape of a field. It was lined with trees, and the trees surrounded a blanket of flowers that covered the whole entire field. The flowers were the most beautiful colors, the most beautiful shades. It was the absolute most stunning thing I'd ever seen. Until now. It's hard to believe the beauty of this place. I feel as if I've been dropped in that painting. It's so colorful here, all of the flowers are so bright, and beautiful. 
I just need to find a way to leave.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

My attention turned over to the door, "yes?!"

Wilmot opened up the door and peeked her head inside, smiling, "Good morning, Florie!" 
"Good morning, Wilmot." I said, rubbing my eyes, "how are you?" 
"I'm good, I'm good, your presence has been requested in the dining room, you've got to eat breakfast." Wilmot said, walking over to the closet and grabbing a dress, "Here you are, does this look okay?"

"Yes, it does. Thank you, I appreciate it." I said, smiling politely, "I'll change."
Wilmot nodded her head, "Yes, I'll go wait outside call me when you're finished, I'm meant to tidy up." 
"I will, thank you." I nodded. Once she shut the door, I silently started changing. Once I finished, I folded my nightgown neatly, silently placing it at the foot of the bed.

"Wilmot?!" I called.

She stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind herself, "How did you sleep?" 
"I slept well, thank you..." I said, sitting down on the bed, sighing, "Hey, how old are you?"

"Oh, I'm twelve." 
Twelve? Oh my gosh... That's as old as Izzie... Wilmot is so young to be working. She's so mature, I would think she's older. I did think she was older. Last night's talk about the working ages got me thinking about it.

"Oh, wow, yeah." I nodded, smiling, "You act so mature for your age, you know."

Wilmot nods and shrugs her shoulders, sighing, "Well yeah, I suppose so..."

"Hey, what do you know about Anthony?" 
Wilmot sighed and rolled her eyes, "Oh my goodness. Too much."

I quietly nodded my head, sighing, "Well I'm not sure what that means... I'm just curious about him." 
"Oh." Wilmot said, sighing and shrugging, "Well he's one of the knights... He tried to marry my eldest sister, you know, but that didn't work out too well." 
"Oh, it didn't?" 
Wilmot calmly shook her head, "No. My father doesn't trust him, he's horrible rude." 
"I could see that, yes." I nodded, "I- I'm just wondering why he still lives at home, surely, he's old enough to have his own home, you know, and-" 
"He is, he's twenty-six. He just doesn't want to." Wilmot said, "Precisely why Father didn't want him to marry Gillian."

I nodded my head, sighing, "That's interesting, yes. Does Piers have any other children?" 
"No, just Anthony." Wilmot said. 
I nodded my head, very slowly, "Yes... So- Hmm. What about Piers, he's not married?" 
"Well, he's a widower." Wilmot said with a shrug, "I don't know why he would want you guys here."

I nodded my head.

Wilmot nodded her head, shrugging, "Sorry, Florie, I would tell you otherwise..."

I quietly nodded my head.