Hawthorne

34 - The truth

Camilla White

Two weeks have gone by and my mind is still reeling from New Year's Eve. Mostly because Vincent's words are still playing over and over in my mind, like a broken record.

I'll find a way.

Find a way to what? He can't possibly mean about us being together, could he? How can he find a way? There's no way.

It messes with my brain and my heart. Ever since I've admitted to myself, my feelings, everything has heightened in me.

Simple gestures, like a ghost of a hand in the small of my back, or when the tip of his fingers brushes my skin, bringing my hair out of my face... Even the little stolen glances or the bolder and lingering gazes... have been feeding on it. Every little moment makes me fall harder, consuming me in such depth that once it stops I'll be nothing but wrecked. Empty.

And if that wasn't enough, watching that royal painting only added to the stress.

That painting hasn't left my mind. It's not like I can find any similarities with him, physically. But have I tried? Maybe. The fact that I never knew who my dad was, makes it all the weirder. In the end, my mother had contact with the Duchess' late husband.

My eyes widen in realization as a specific thought runs through my head. What if... Were they... lovers?

No!

Ignoring, Primrose's whimpers the moment I rush from the kitchen to my bedroom, I hastily open my bedside drawer, digging through my underwear until I find the letter I have avoided so far.

My hands tremble in anticipation, just as I look at the still unbroken sealing wax with the family's crest. Primrose settles right on my side, with her head resting on my leg just as I break the seal.

Taking a deep breath, I open the folded paper, coming across her neat handwriting. I can't help but gasp at the sight. All of the nostalgia hits me like a truck, reminding me of how much I miss her. All the walks through the gardens, all the gossip she'd tell me to keep me up to date. Our tea and biscuit dates...

She was my second mother.

This letter in my hands brings that reality veil down on me, once again. Reminding me of how much I miss and need her. Both of them.

My eyes blur with stubborn tears, as soon as I spot the first three words, but I hastily swipe at them while starting to read the letter.

"My sweet Camilla,

I am hoping this letter is finding you well. Knowing you as I know, you'll keep this for a moment when you can't bear the feeling of missing us anymore. It's understandable for someone who might feel as alone as you do. Fear not my sweet girl, you might not have us with you in person but all three of us are with you in spirit.

As you might know by now, Vincent is my official heir. The only one I trusted enough to let you stay and keep your work if you wish as much. Remember that you are free to spread your wings and fly away if you want but... this will always be your home in more ways than one.

You might not have been my child through birth but I am proud to say that you were my adopted child. I loved you as if you were mine and have no regrets in that department. On others though...

I tried to let you know many times while I was still alive, but I couldn't because, in the end, your mother and I robbed you of something very important. The truth about your ancestry. The truth about your father.

I know you never knew who he was and never really showed a wish to do, you have always seemed happy and satisfied with the little that has been given to you. That trait was both admiring and heartbreaking. Because a sweet and pure girl like you deserved more, so much more.