Meant to Bea

CHAPTER EIGHT

Numb.

Silk settled on the blistered hand of the footman, pulling her forward until she was taking the short stairs down the carriage. Her feet finally came to settle on dust, her lips parting to let out a soft sigh as she turned slightly to acknowledge the footman with a nod. She didn't dare turn to the other man who stood beside her for she wasn't sure she could endure the sight of him. So, she turned her attention to what stood before her instead; the three story building. The home in which she had lived her entire life. The home she had been so cruelly shamed out of. The home she hadn't thought she would need to return to within such a short time.

Dark, pregnant clouds above reflected the darkness of her soul. A darkness that threatened to consume her as she swept her gaze over the familiar faces that had constituted her father's staff. She paused when her eyes came to settle on the beautiful face of her sister who, rather being clad in the traditional garment of mourning, was instead clad in a purple dress. Her curly mass was pulled into a complicated hairstyle above her head, most likely done by a skilled handmaid. Her skin glowed with health and proper nutrition as she stood before the door.

They were here to welcome their new master...

The thought drifted through Bianca's mind as Race took her hand -without her permission- and tucked it in the crook of his arm. Rather than struggle against his hold on her, Bianca straightened her shoulders and let herself be led up the long staircase that led to the front porch.

The servants bowed their heads slightly as they passed them. Bianca noticed the slight shiver that seemed to race through all their bodies. None seemed willing to make eye contact.

"Mr. Belington."

Her head snapped up, her eyes immediately coming to rest on her sister who was now curtsying to Race.

It was odd, she thought, knowing Race felt the same way too, for his body stiffened at the reference to his new title. Rather than offer a gentlemanly bow, he nodded instead.

"Bianca." Carla turned to her then, her face pale. It was then, as Bianca came face to face with her sister, that she noticed for the very first time that Carla must have been crying. "Oh, Bianca!" Carla stepped forward, and without warning, threw her arms around Bianca. "Mother and father are dead, Bianca!"

Bianca just stood there, her body stiff in Carla's trembling arms. It wasn't news to her, she had heard of her parents death the day she saw Mr. Rosetown in Bath. The second she saw him seated in their barely furnished parlor, something within her knew her father was dead. What else would bring his solicitor this far away from Camden?

She had settled on the sofa that morning, and listened to Mr. Rosetown speak the words her heart already knew, out loud. And after he broke the news to her, rather than fall to her knees and weep, rather than throw a tantrum and curse at the world for its cruelty, she had slowly risen to her feet and made her way back to her room.

"Perhaps we must go inside now." Race announced, causing Carla to release her hold on Bianca and step back.

Carla nodded. "Yes. The servants have prepared a feast."

Bianca followed silently, her hand still tucked in Race's arm. Her coat was stripped off of her body by a maid, and they were escorted to the dining area. Race pulled out a seat for her, but rather than oblige him, she found herself walking to another seat, pulling it out for herself, and settling on it.

She barely raised her gaze after that. Her eyes remained planted on the meal in her plate, her stomach flipping at the very sight of it. She moved her fork back and forth her plate, until she thought excusing herself wouldn't be considered rude.

She rose to her feet, her food untouched as she murmured an excuse to the room. Turning from her sister and Race, she silently made her way to the room that was once hers before she was forced to marry a man who would never love her.

Bianca barely slept that night. Her waist hurt, and the bed felt like a rock beneath her weary body. They were halfway into the night when she began to feel the implications of neglecting her dinner.

Pushing herself to a sitting position, she let out a soft yawn. Her stomach growled in protest, and she decided she would go in search of some left overs from dinner. Hopefully, the cook had stored some biscuits in a jar? Or perhaps there was still some turkey left over?

She rose to her feet, deciding she would go in search of something, and if she found none, then she might perhaps find some grapes or apples, or a jar of jam.

The halls were empty, the silence confirming to her that indeed the house was asleep. She kept walking, making certain to maintain the silence by not slamming her heels too hard against the marbled floors.

She reached the kitchen and turned on the lamp. Disappointed to find there weren't any left overs from dinner, she was grateful to find some scones. She ate a few, further regretting her decision to walk away from the warm food at dinner. After downing a jar of milk, she turned from the kitchen, satisfied.

She began making her way through the path she had initially taken, when soft whispers somewhere in the hall caught her attention.

Pausing in her tracks, she briefly imagined an intruder. Perhaps he was here to steal something? Should she go in search of help? She considered going to find a footman, when a familiar female voice drifted to her; Carla.

Turning from her course, she followed the voice to the entryway of the hall.

"Do not think too deeply about it," Carla -clad in her white nightdress- was smiling up at Race who hadn't bothered to take off his traveling clothes. "Everything will certainly sort itself out."

Race shook his head and glanced around. "It is certainly new to me."

The smile on Carla's face faded, and she stepped forward. Taking both of Race's hands in hers, she leaned close. "I shall help you if you would only ask. I know everything about running my father's business and dealing with the nobles."

Race didn't pull away, or bother to lean back. He instead stood there, and while Bianca couldn't see his face because he had his back to her, she guessed he certainly enjoyed her sister's presence. "Perhaps they shall reject me. The circumstances of my birth is no news, my la..."

She lifted a finger and placed it on his lips, silencing him. "You are the Duke's heir," She whispered solemnly against his lips, her body inching closer.

Rather than walk away, Bianca stood there. A part of her didn't want to lie in bed wondering what happened between Race and her sister, it wanted to know the full story. Still, there was the part of her that loathed her for standing there and watching.

Carla murmured something Bianca couldn't hear, and inched in further. Race moved then. It was a movement of his hand. They settled on Carla's arm, and for a second, she imagined him pushing her away...

Breathing softly, Bianca turned around and resumed her walk back to her bedchamber, unsurprised that Race didn't push her sister away. She was unsurprised when he instead pulled Carla close and captured her lips in a passionate kiss.

What did surprise her however, was the ability of her numb legs to safely carry her back to her bedchamber.

Copyright © 2018 Lily Orevba All rights reserved.

A/N

Hey lovelies! I thank you for your wonderful patience in this long-time-coming update. I was working on finishing BEAST OF ITALY and I'm finally done.

Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter enough to vote on it.