Of Light So Dark and Dear

Chapter 9

Georgia dressed Lena the next morning with a newfound emptiness. The dressing maid usually had a gleam in her eyes as she told Lena about the events of her day and drama of all the other maids in the household. Today, though, she remained completely silent as she fastened Lena's dress and tied up her hair. There was no joy that could be seen in the woman's face.

Lena didn't pass judgement, though. Everyone had their bad days, and the housemaid probably had her own struggles of the day that she would rather not voice. Lena didn't want to flood her with unnecessary inquiry.

The corset pressed tighter against her skin today as she realized she wore one of the new dresses she had purchased in Augsburg. She quite liked the fit of it. It was more form fitting to her curves. Tight against her waist, but a bit wider at her hips and bust.

She dismissed Georgia after she had finished tying up her hair. The woman walked out of Lena's room with a haste to her step. She wondered where the housemaid was running off to. Maybe she just had an unusually busy schedule today.

Lena was clad in grey today, with accents of red at her hair garnish, waist ribbon, and shoes. She liked when she got to dress in this way- it was simple but did not look like she had neglected to care for her appearance.

She decided to take a visit to Angeline's room this morning. Lena had ventured to her grieving friend's room everyday now. Angeline usually said very little, but Lena hoped that her presence could offer some comfort.

Lena remembered how her mother had reacted when her father had been declared dead. She embraced solitude for the first two nights, only knowing her bed as company. On the third night, though, Lena and Sophie snuck into her room. They were so young then, maybe eight or nine years of age. They'd no idea of the true toll of grief on one's soul.

Instead of demanding they leave, though, their mother let them crawl into her bed. She held both of them in each of her arms for the rest of the night. When Lena and her sister looked up at their mother, it was if their innocent eyes had eased a part of her sorrow.

That innocence had faded now, though, and Lena had to rely on other techniques to comfort her friend. She had asked Angeline a few times if she had any other friends she wanted to send for, but she had replied each time that she did not want them to see her like this. The truth, Lena knew, was that Angeline did not want to explain to them what had happened. She could not bear voicing the words again.

Lena knocked on Angeline's door with caution. At first, she could hear nothing behind the door, and then gentle steps crept their way toward her a few moments later.

Dressed head to toe in widow's black, Angeline appeared just as Lena expected her to. Not much better than the last day, but not any worse.

She stayed silent as she took her seat at the chair right next to Angeline's bed. She would only talk when Angeline needed her to. That was how this worked. Lena found that while some needed to be touched and spoken to in grief, others simply required the presence of an accompanying silence.

Angeline stared at the wall in a manner that resembled her usual emptiness. This time, though, Lena thought she could see a tiny spark of something else behind her eyes. Whatever it was: anger, remembrance, or inquiry, it was better than this nothingness.

They had been sitting there, in silence, for almost ten minutes when Angeline said, "Dr. Mckailey says you convene daily. May I attend these meetings?"

Lena thought of all of the bloody and horrifying details they discussed during their meetings. She could think of nothing worse than exposing Angeline to this so early in her mourning.