Storm and Silence Fanfic

Blast from the Past

~2 May 1843~

"Lillian, I need you."

    "Yes, Rick?" I had been folding laundry in the room next door when I heard him call for me. I walked into his office and found him neck deep in paperwork.

    "I need you to write a letter." He doesn't even look up from his work to address me.

    It had been stupid for me to get my hopes up, to hope that he wanted me for something else, something not related to his stupid work.

    "Write your own damn letter. I'm busy."

    "This is part of your debt to me, wife. Now come, sit, and write my letter."

     Curse him and his stupid debt. 

    "Do you understand that I have other things to do? Do you know how hard it is to--no of course you don't, you're never home during the day." I cross my arms over my chest. "I can't fold laundry while the kids are awake, because they try to help and end up making a mess. I can't clean the bathroom while they're awake, because they try to help and make a mess. When they're asleep is the only chance I have to do things."

    "That sounds like a problem you'll have to figure out tomorrow. Because right now, you're going to sit down and write a letter for me."

    I scowl.

    "And if I don't?"

     He looks up. 

    "Then the new clothing you needed for your children won't get bought."

    "I have my own money, I can-"

    "And since I own the tailor, they will be under strict orders not to-"

    "Fine, you win." I throw my hands in the air. I hate that he can use my babies against me. I clench my teeth and march to the chair, taking the paper and pen he set on the edge of his desk with a huff.  "What do you want me to write?"

    He begins speaking at a rapid pace, barely giving me enough time to write down the words. My hand begins cramping soon after I begin. It's been ages since I did this. I'm not used to it anymore. My hands are now used to doing laundry and making dinner and cleaning up after children. As much as I love my babies, I do miss spending time with my husband.

    "Is that all, sir?" I ask when he stops speaking.

    "Yes, Mr Linton that-" We both look up when we realize what happened. We both went back to the time I was his secretary. "Lillian, I mean."

    I half smile.

    "It's been quite a while, huh?"

    "Three years, seven months, and thirteen days." He says, looking back down at his work.

    I nod. The last time I wrote him a letter was the day we got back from the jungle.

    "Well, if that's all you needed...I'll just get back to my work."

    "Adequate." He says. Though that word is hardly a compliment, it brings back all of the memories of my days as his secretary. It sends a fresh wave of desire through me. I stand up.

    He keeps his head down, and even when I get to the door doesn't say anything.

    Turning, I look at his profile in he glow of the candle. There are so many things I could say to him. Things I probably should say. But I've said most of them before, and nothing has made a difference. This man loves nothing except money. Always has, always will.

    I leave and go back to my laundry.

*

I made up these dates based on the one date Sir Rob gave us at one point, and I was actually pretty close. I wrote half of this section before work, and just threw down a date, but when I came back to it, I was only a couple months off and perfectly spot on with the year and day. I suck at math, so I'm pretty proud of myself. 

I wrote this little piece here because I was so excited that people actually found my story and enjoyed it. Thanks to everyone who read it, I hope you enjoy the rest of what I have planned. :) 

Would anyone be interested in a chapter in Mr Ambrose's POV? Let me know! 

~Hamilfan123987