The Girl With The Sunset Eyes {Historical Interracial Romance/ #1 Blake Series}

Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

She doesn’t eat. She tortures herself. But why? She has the beauty of a goddess but treats herself a slave. But she is a slave, but I cannot accept that. I don’t know why I can’t, she is better than that. Everyone is.

December the tenth 1795                         

The year of our lord, London England.

Diary of William Blake.

Katherine hadn’t forgotten yesterday, who could forget how brash she had behaved in front of her master? Once they had returned inside, he had excused himself to bed- and never came out of his bedroom. He had refused dinner, and quite rudely, told her to go to bed.

She had done as she was bid, but as she walked to her room, which was only two rooms down from his, she had heard him call back to her. He had told her that they were still going to the coffee club tomorrow, and he hadn’t forgotten.

Finishing her morning chores of cleaning the house, by washing the tiled floors and also scrubbing Blake's shirt she began to bake some bread. It was still dark, but she knew that he would expect everything completed anyway. He seemed the type of person that loved a secure life, he liked structure and perfection. She wouldn’t anger him by doing otherwise.

Katherine, using a lantern as a light she began darning his undershirt, squinting, her eyes were still focused on the white cloth of linen.  The kitchen was silent, only her irritated snaps at her incapability to keep the stiches perfectly straight made a sound.

The lantern flickered too, beside her, as she worked and she bit her lip in concentration. Her head down, a strand of hair, obstructing her view.  It was a wavy piece, her hair naturally straight; it seemed like a curtain strand.

 In the Watson household, the curtains had always been her job. Sitting in the kitchen, she had made sure that they were suited to her master’s approval. Or else, she would receive a beating. It was part of her life now, to compare things to domestic jobs. Nineteen summers of working, knowing only to serve, meant it was ingrained in her mind.

Her lack of self-confidence was also a never leaving ghost. She had been taught that she was there to serve the white man, that it was what God wanted. But sometimes it felt hard on her, when she could barely look at her face in the reflection, or the now fading scars on her back.

Katherine decided, she wouldn’t want to see them today, and she would just change quickly. Besides, after washing, scrubbing, cooking and praying, the sun was now rising. Soon Master Blake would rise, and when he did, she didn’t want to speak to him in the kitchen again.

Katherine donned a different grey dress from the trunk, she doubted she needed an apron and instead wrapped a darker black cloak around her body. Tying up her hair she moved towards the kitchen. She splashed cold water onto her dry face and dried her face.

She ran upwards to his room. Ignoring the squelching sounds of her shoes, she walked past everything that she was now used to. The long corridor which was introduced by the grand foyer and even before that was greeted with the white door with the gold chain to unlock it. Sure she hadn’t been outside, but she would remember the grey steps, the black rails she had held onto, as she entered this home.

Inside were so many rooms, she hadn’t the opportunity to explore every room as much as she had liked. But what she had enjoyed most was the knowledge of the gardens and the library. When he went to work, one day she would have the courage to enter and read a book.

Master Blake was an intelligent man, from what she had gathered, he had books that she had never known existed. Even in the Watson household, she knew most of their books were based on religion. They never branched outwards; they never saw the good that thinking beyond the norm could do.