The rain was falling down, an extra weight onto Victoria's sadness and anger. Ironic, really, how everything bad always happens in the rain. But she could not laugh at it now – nor in the future, she assumed.
Not knowing the garden and not minding were she went, Victoria merely ran as fast and far as her legs could take her. Everything was dark, so even if she would pass some people, they would not be able to see her.
She was not certain if the wetness on her cheeks were tears or rain, but she did not care at the moment. Her mind was spinning with many thought, going from aunt Clarice, to her being a witch, ending with Andrew trying to tell her he had nothing to do with it.
Did he really think her stupid to believe that?
She was not quick to believe aunt Clarice, but with or without the letter as proof, she was intelligent enough to know that she had only told one person how much she hated her aunt. And not a week later, the woman was in London.
Victoria was quick to look for a different explanation, but than lady Clarice recited the last words of the letter she got. There was no other explanation than the one she had been trying to convince herself was untrue: Andrew had written a letter to lady Clarice, telling her were to find her niece and how to ruin her. The only thing she could not explain, was why.
She had thought things were going good between them. Even Elizabeth had said those words. She was excited for the ball, for she would dance with him again. They would spend the whole night together and she thought no one would be able to take it away. She thought it would be a memory she would never want to forget.
But forgetting was the only thing she wanted now. She wanted to forget the ball, Andrew and everything they had done together.
Emotional pain shot through her, and Victoria dropped to the floor, sobbing harder than ever before. She felt the wet grass soaking through her skirt and petticoat, but she did not care. She did not even care that she was not wearing a coat or that her expensive stays were getting soaked as well. The hair she had so beautifully done was ruined too, just like every memory she had of Andrew.
Another stream of tears ran out of her eyes by the thought of the man she had enjoyed so much. But now she would never be able to see him without blaming him for ruining everything.
She knew "everything" was an exaggeration, but the last few months, he had been with her so often. They had made so many memories that it felt like years ago since she was alone. Yet now, she was back at that state of loneliness.
But she did not hate loneliness. Only now, because of him, she had realized she liked being in company more than being alone. He had given her all that pleasure, and then he so easily took it away.
YOU ARE READING
The Beautiful Wallflower
Historical Fiction"You truly are one special lady." Wallflowers symbolize a shy or excluded person at a dance or party, especially a girl without a partner. Victoria Blackburn lives a lonely and simple life. She is not like most ladies in London, and that is how she...
