Untitled

Chapter IV

The sun was still rising as I made my way across town. I stopped looking over my shoulder every few steps only when I got to streets I knew well. I did, however, pick up my pace. I should have been back in my bed, asleep, hours ago.
    I kept my arm by my side as I made my way up the street, mostly covering my bandage. Only a few people were out and they didn't even spare me a look. I was used to it. Young women were only useful for sewing and having children around here. But for once I was grateful for this characterisation.
    Next it was time to do something a young woman would never do. I slipped up to our front door and knocked three times. The knocker had hardly finished vibrating before I was around the corner and squeezing through the tiny crack between our house and the next. At the back corner of the house the window to my sister's drawing room was open. I threw myself over the ledge and landed in a heap on the floor.
    "Well, well, well, where've you been?" I heard a voice ask.
    I looked up. Isabelle, my sister, was sitting a few feet away, painting at one of the many canvases around the room. "Oh, here and there," I replied. "Nowhere in particular."
    "Oh, please. I'm supposed to believe that?"
    "Well, if I told you, I'd ruin the surprise." Technically this wasn't true, considering my surprise had been stolen, but I had every intention of getting a new one.
    "A surprise?" Isabelle's eyes brightened. "For my birthday?"
    "No, silly, for my other sister's birthday."
    "Oh, it's never too early for Anna to be sarcastic, is it?" She smiled and set down her paintbrush.
    "I woke up at a fine and dandy time this morning, you know. So it's more like lunchtime to me. Speaking of which, is there anything leftover from last night to eat?" We had eaten a goodly sized meal that I was sure the servants couldn't finish.
    "Not unless you want cold potatoes."
    "I just might. I've had a rough night- I mean morning." I laughed forcedly. "See, I can't even talk." I was hoping to play it off because if she knew I'd been out all night she would threaten to tell someone if I ever did it again. And the thing was, I snuck out a lot of the time. I did not need that threat hanging over my head.
    "Well, I suppose you should get upstairs before a servant comes back from the front door," Isabelle said, returning to her painting.
    I couldn't tell if she believed me about anything at all, but I nodded and slipped through the halls. I skipped the stairs that creaked and made it up both flights to my room without seeing anyone. Any servant who found out I had been out all night would immediately tell my father, which sounded like a very bad idea on my part.
    Not that it was my fault I hadn't come home.
    I closed the door to my room firmly and flopped onto my bed. Sometime during my conversation with Isabelle the events of last night had started to sink in. Everything that had happened flew past my closed eyes in blurry images.
    The man's dark eyes seemed to stare at me through my closed eyelids, and I felt phantom hands holding me still while his knife was against my throat. The picture sharpened in my mind until I was reliving it, all of it, every nasty, dreadful part. I sat up, breathing heavily. There was no way I would be sleeping soundly for a while. Or being in general, for that matter.
    My hand went to the wound on my side and I felt the knife twisting into my skin. It hadn't truly hit me until I was home and safe, but the shock of knowing how close I had been to being killed or maimed was terrifying. People didn't just relent and leave you alone after a while. If you didn't have what they wanted, they would take everything from you.
    I stood up shakily. There was no way I wanted to be alone with my thoughts after everything. My sister could keep me company until the rest of the household was awake and then after breakfast I could visit with my neighbours.
    A bird chirped on the windowsill, startling me. My room faced the street and the East, so I could see the sunrise down the street. Our house was at the top of the hill that the town was built on, and the road ran directly East to West. It was a beautiful sight no matter which way you looked, and my room had tall, ornate windows and doors that opened to a tiny balcony.
    Suddenly someone knocked on my door. I panicked, realising I was still in a bloody dress and my bandage was quite visible. There were no easy options of hiding except one. I opened my wardrobe and climbed inside. I had done this before and knew it would somewhat support my weight, at least enough not to break through the bottom. I pulled it as close to closed as I could without a handle and waited.
    "Anna? Are you in there?"
    I didn't respond and the door opened. Through my crack I could see Marie, one of the servants. "Where is that lady?" she muttered to herself. She noticed the wardrobe's door was open and I shrank back as she came closer. But she only pushed it closed, shutting me in the dark. With no way out. Great.
    I heard her leave and stood up slowly, careful not to hit my head. My dresses smothered me and I almost laughed at how ridiculous this was. Girl gets stuck in a wardrobe hiding from her servant and slowly chokes to death on fabric? Sounds like something I would do.
    When I was sure Marie was fully gone, I pulled my foot back as far as I could and kicked the bottom of the door. It jerked out a little bit and so I hit it with both of my hands as well, trying to open the whole thing without breaking a piece of the door. After a few more tries it finally opened and I almost laughed at loud at how bizarre the whole situation had been. And at how unlaughable it would be if my father found out.
    I found a red dress that I liked and stared at it, wondering how I could wear a bandage under it, because there was no way it was going on top. Not that I even knew how to wrap a bandage of any sort.
    I took mine off, feeling bad because Peter had wrapped it not two hours ago. Only two hours? Everything was so different. I had come back from one world and into another, the total opposite. Like a reflection and reality. Except now I felt as is this life was the reflection.
    I re-wrapped the bandage as best as I could and rang a little bell on my table. I immediately felt so spoiled to have servants at my beck and call. Valentina, a girl not much younger than I, opened my door. She was petite, with dark hair that fell in front of her face and hid her shy eyes.
    "Mademoiselle," she greeted me, curtseying.
    "Hi, Valentina," I sighed. "How are you?"
    "I'm quite alright," was her customary reply.
    She came over and laced the back of my dress, pulling strings and tightening it until I looked like a respectable lady again. I felt her pause for a moment. She must have noticed the strange shape of the bandage. There was no way I could come up with a story suitable, and I knew she wouldn't ask on her own. So I said nothing and hoped she forgot about it.
    "Valentina, how is your mother? I know she was ill a few weeks ago. Is she any better?"
    "Thank you, mademoiselle. She is healing. It is the medicine your parents gifted us with, I think. And her will to get better." Valentina finished with the laces and stepped back.
    "I'm so glad to hear that."
    She nodded, waiting to be dismissed.
    "Valentina, is there any chance you would have some cleaning alcohol?" I had to ask, even if it gave something away. Hearing stories about what happened when injuries weren't cleaned properly scared me.
    "Yes, mademoiselle."
    "Could you bring a bottle up here sometime today? I didn't wear my slippers one day and the floor scratched my foot. I shouldn't need a lot of it, but I do want to treat it."
    "Of course, mademoiselle. I'll bring it up myself." She moved towards the door but hesitated, waiting for me to speak.
    "Thank you, Valentina." I dismissed her with a nod of my head and she left, disappearing down the hallway.
    I sagged against the wall, grateful she hadn't asked any questions. I liked people who observed first and asked later.
    The sun had risen high enough that my mother and father would be awake and getting ready for breakfast. I went back downstairs, making sure I looked as much as possible like I had just woken up from a deep and peaceful sleep.