Battle of intentions

23. I'm not expecting anyone

Anyone in my position would have taken any opportunity to leech off the Armstrongs. I did not have it in me to put up with that. I had already lied to Wickham whilst residing in his home and taking advantage of his kindness. I never left my designated room, instead I lay there overthinking. I'd never admit to feeling anything for Hugh but in any case something in me felt inflamed every time, I watched him adoringly pamper his wife with kisses and sweet gestures. It led my mind to a place of backbiting. He did that with her? He probably did more than just that... he did to her things that he did to me as well. It was still hard to call Lily his wife, his wife indeed.

I thought about all the possibilities. I couldn't possibly claim this child as mine if he came out as pale as the father. Dutchess would take my child and have Lily raise them while I remained here. It was not too far-fetched it could happen. It was possibly my worst fear. Wickham never liked to discuss my mother but I had many questions. We sat in silence, sometimes he'd be out. Sometimes he'd simply stare at me, then turn to look away. I did not want to upset him with questions, he could simply kick me out of his home if it suited him. I did not want to push his temper over the edge. With all this ruckus I'd even made a friend, she resided at the Wickham plots and occasionally came in to do Wickham's laundry.

She would force me to come out of the house for once and sit with her on the patio as she hand washed the clothes. I was always in a somber mood but I'd always leave feeling better and having forgotten the root of my sorrows. I was too closed up at first, London had taught me not to trust anyone. Not everyone was a friend. Not everyone meant well, not everyone who shared your skin tone wanted you to exceed better than they were. Fortunately, it was different here. The atmosphere was peaceful, the place was quiet, Wickham actually somewhat treated his workers decently.

"You won't tell me who it is even now?" Melinda asked as we sat on the patio. I shook my head, with no intention of ever telling that secret to anyone. It was a secret, I'd willingly take to the grace even now, I found it hard to trust people. Beatrice was the first friend, I had and as I thought about it more and more. She did more damage to me than she ever admired too. She made me feel as if my feelings did not matter. How I'd felt about Hugh forcing himself on me, she belittled my feelings. She made me feel insecure, she coerced me into thinking I was not beautiful or appealing.

"It doesn't matter." I shrugged.

"But I need to know, Is it a white man?" She questioned. There was silence mostly from the shame I felt. Every flash back seemed to swirl back into my mind. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand any memory of my foolishness.

"No." I said quickly realising I had not responded and here I was overthinking.

"It's a white man." She smiled, as if making the answer definite. She continued with her work.

"You should allow me to do your hair."

"Oh, this I had forgotten about it. Thought I'd cut it again but I did not want to ask Wickham—"

"No, you shouldn't Nora. Allow me to style it. Being with child does not mean you should not care for your image."

This made me laugh. "What image? Short hair is simple maintenance especially with a baby coming soon." I had no plan what so ever. Would Wickham allow me and my child to reside with him even then?

So, I allowed her to play with my hair. Looking at the mirror it did not seem as if she had played with my hair at all. It looked decent. Even Wickham complimented me during dinner what seemed like the first time. His butler interrupted the quiet solitude as I helped clear up the table.

"You have a guest sir."

"It is rather late to be expecting visitors." Wickham muttered gravely as if annoyed. Putting his napkin onto the table. "Who is it?"