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9
It hadn't occurred to her that her hard ways may have been softening during her time in England. If her thoughts of curiosity and concern for John Shelby hadn't warned her at all, then nothing could. She was well and truly gone.
Far gone.
So far gone that she planned to visit him. To explain herself, not that she needed to. To comfort him. To tell him things she knew about his brother's business with her own family. Ana's excuse had been that she didn't want to lose what minimal trust she held with the Shelby family. That had been a lie to herself, of course.
The truth was, Anastasiya saw too much of her own situation in John's. They both had a constant tendency to be left out from the family or used by them, and the both wanted more. Much more.
"Why are you smiling? You never smile." Tatiana said, her eyes never leaving the book that was held in her hands.
Anastasiya was grinning down into her lap. She hadn't realised it until her sister had pointed it out, but she was lost, not even reading the words from the book in front of her. It was almost psychotic.
"No reason." Ana drawled, her face moving slightly to duck behind her own pages.
"Miss Ana, the door." The maid appeared in the doorway as soon as the two words left Ana's mouth.
"Thank you Maria." She nodded, moving to leave her sister who watched after her.
As Ana neared the door, she imagined John standing on the other side, cheeks flushed from the conflict he felt, much like herself. She could sense the anger that would radiate from him. It was her favourite emotion, so powerful and consuming. She could see the glare he would send her way, hear the mean words he would aim at her.
But as she opened the door slowly, peering out eagerly, the sight of the person made her gasp, her hand flying to rest on her chest. It was no John Shelby, though still an eerily familiar face.
The woman stood expectantly, her bushy brows touching to her dark eyes that were encased by a shadow. A knowing smirk pulled at her thin lips. Behind her, the morning sky had clouded over, bringing a darkness across the courtyard that was likened to the evening. Even the wind that rushed through upon the first opening of the door seemed to hold its chilly breath, just as Ana did too.
"My darling, Anastasiya."
The woman pushed through, wrapping her arms around Ana and smiling widely as she trapped her tightly in her grip. Her eyes switched to rest on the figure of the older sister as she moved to see the new comer. Ana didn't know what to say. Her dark lips were bitten, held together in both anxiety and confusion.
"Tatiana."
"Mother?" Ana let her startled breath carry the words out for her. "Why are you here?"
She could remember the exact moment in which her mother had left her by the train station. It was cold at night, the Russian words leaving her mouth with drips of malice like blood from a knife. The next moment, her mother, Ekaterina, had left her silently, hands emptied of the single bag that she had held. The small lamplight barely reached to lick at her feet. But she didn't need to see more than the small bench beneath the lantern to know that she had been abandoned at the train station.
"I couldn't leave my daughters without their mother." She said, and as much as Ana loved her mother, she wanted to laugh.
Ekaterina moved with small steps to stand in front of her eldest daughter. Her arms were outstretched, but Tatiana pushed away with an unwavering glare as she looked between her mother and sister.
"No. I don't want you to touch me." She snapped, raising her chin with a pointed look.
"Tatiana. I am your mother." She scolded.
Tatiana stood still, shaking her head and scoffing. "Not anymore."
She stalked off, her short dress wiping against her legs as she hurried away. Ana was left to look after her, feeling trapped between the open door and her mother's tall and abnormally skinny frame.
"I will always have you, Ana. Won't I?"
She felt her mother's hand wrap around her own, gripping her fingers tightly. Ana held her breath. The image of her mother's retreating figure was all she could see, and yet she shook it off, nodding her head. She convinced herself of her mother's love, smiling softly.
"Of course, mama." She murmured. "Maria will get your coat and make us a drink."
They were silent as Ekaterina followed her daughter through to a sitting area, Ana's breath held the whole way. The older woman noted distastefully that the room was a library, rather than a sitting area, and was obviously never used for guests. It was clear that she had not been as welcome as she had hoped. They sat across from each other, finally accepting a cup of tea as Maria placed a tray in front of them, hurrying away with a last glance toward the unknown woman.
In the time since Ana had been dropped by the train station, her mother had become more and more like her grandmother. It was the little details in her appearance that sent shivers down her back at the obvious and jarring similarity. The way her thinning hair was pinned back in such away that was so old fashioned that Ana would never dare do it herself. Her eyes looked more hollowed and inspecting, reflecting each inch of light like a mirror, making her look older than she was and on the verge of tears each time she moved her head.
"Are you safe, mama?" She whispered, her voice unusually hesitant and quiet. "Did anyone tell you to come here?"
"No. I came on my own accord." Ekaterina eyed her carefully at her odd question. "Why, my darling? Are you okay?"
Ana paused, looking to the murky cup of tea that rested in her hands. What could she say other than she was worried about her? Her family had always been a suspicious one, wanting to know more than what was being said, and her mother was no different. But Ana couldn't say anything more than she already had about the priest. It was dangerous enough telling Tommy Shelby.
"I'm here to keep you safe. You can tell me anything, Ana. Would you tell your mother what's bothering you?" Ekaterina coaxed, her voice unnervingly soft as she placed a hand on her knee.
"Everything is fine, mama. I just worry about you sometime." She lied, pulling a gentle smile on her frowning lips.
