Lady of Greystoke (Sequel to "At all costs")

The Paper

Alice wasn't granted much by her captors. They fed her and gave her a room to sleep and gave her clothes. But somehow she managed to catch her master's good graces.

It was an early afternoon when the man who owned the house had asked for tea and she was sent in to bring it to him. He was alone in his office, and many years of "Lady-Like-Lessons" as her mother loved to call them, had made her quite skillful at walking without noise. Even the cups on her tray did not rattle. She set down the tea exactly where she knew it would be expected to be and was about to leave without another word, when she was interrupted.

'What is your name girl?'

She froze in her step, and took deep breath. She had learned quickly that she was supposed to answer without ever looking at him, unless he asked. 'Alice, sir.' She answered.

'Pretty name. Turn around.' He said.

Alice slowly and reluctantly turned around. She looked at the man, waiting for his next remark or request, knowing better than to open her mouth without being asked.

'Pretty name for a pretty girl, apparently.'

Alice could not help it; she looked surprised. She was not used to being called beautiful by any man, not being her father, brothers or William. And even the latter was reluctant in that.

The man scoffed slightly. 'Even your dark complexion can't hide the beauty in your face, child. A pity, really. Had you been white, you'd have had no trouble finding a husband.' He sighed. 'You have only worked for me for a few days, and do you know what I have noticed, girl?'

Alice slightly shook her head. 'No, sir, I do not.'

He grinned. 'Exactly. I have barely noticed you, but ironically I have noticed the silence. The silence all the other worker's fail to provide with their work. Loud breath, rattling dishes and noisy footsteps on the floor.' He pointed at Alice. 'You on the other hand. Utter silence, like you are floating on a cloud.'

Alice smiled slightly, knowing her old teachers would be delighted to hear it.

'You are currently the most competent members of my serving staff, Alice. So in return, I will allow you a small gift. Be wise in choosing it, for if you choose unwisely, I will never reward you again, with anything other than punishment.' There was a hint of malevolence in his eyes, and it made the hair at the back Alice's neck stand up.

She knew that asking for her freedom would never work, nor would asking to send a letter or go outside. But one thing might. She took a deep breath.

'Would I be allowed paper and pencil, sir?'

He looked confused. 'And why would you want that?'

'I like to draw, sir. It calms my mind.'

He nodded slightly. 'Very well. You shall have it.' He nodded again, indicating for Alice to leave.

Alice smiled. 'Thank you sir.' And curtseyed, before swiftly turning around and leaving the room.

When she returned to her part of the attic later that night, she found sheets of paper and a few pencils on the crooked table, by the small window. It was so late that the only light coming in through it was that of the moon.

'What did you do to earn yourself the paper?' A curious voice spoke from the doorway. Alice turned around and her gaze fell upon a woman, likely on her way to her forties, standing in her doorway. Like everyone else, she looked tired, but even more so than the others. Her tiredness seemed to origin in her bones.

'For some reason he seems to like me...' Alice answered.

'That is a fine and dangerous line to walk.'

Alice nodded, very aware that being liked could either mean simple freedoms like this, or that soon the man would expect much more from her. The later was enough to make her terrified, and her skin crawl.

'Good luck.' The woman said, before disappearing into the dark hallway.

Alice closed the door behind her, lit a candle and sat down at the desk. She hadn't really had any intention to start sketching, but had assumed it'd be a safer answer than to say she knew to read and write. She knew how to sketch, and would need to make a few, to make her story believable, but that is not what the paper was for. This paper was her key to staying sane, for keeping track of what happened here. This paper would become her testimony. She put the pencil to the paper and started to write.

My name is Alice Catherine Greystoke, and on the day of the 23d of March, of 1909 I was taken prisoner at the Mayville Bridge in London.