The Ember In The Storm (undergoing editing)

Chapter 3: Confrontations

BY afternoon, Elizabeth was still locked in the bedroom, sprawled over the large bed as she read one of the novels from Jackson's shelves.

So far, that was her daily routine for the past three-four days since she last moved into the mansion; wake up, eat, read, eat, shower, eat, read, sleep. 

Her communication with the Andersons had only been in terms of greeting and farewells. Most especially Senior Anderson and Master Jackson. Luke was likely the least despised. He spoke less than his father but more than his brother.

If he did not like Elizabeth— which she was sure he actually didn't— he never showed it.

Earlier that morning, an invitation card came in for Elizabeth to attend a winters ball which would be held the following day. The Anderson's recognized the event, they attended it every winter, and it so happened Jackson would be one of the hosts at that particular one. No one knew who had sent it.

Though at the back of their heads, they had a familiar infamous name in mind.

Elizabeth had no idea how to make of the invitation, her immediate thoughts were to ignore it and not attend, though that would do her more harm than good later on. Goodness, she didn't even know what a ballroom looked like. She had no dress that would be suitable for such a luxurious event. As for the shoes however, she had many options.

But what was an outfit without the actual dress?

Elizabeth stood and took a look in her dressing mirror as she combed through the tangled strands of her hair. She had washed it an hour ago and left it under a towel, now looking on how to style it.

The Winters Ball had been causing a tsunami of anxiety in her. It was not all entirely about the lack of dressing she had. It was not all about it being her first time at a ball.

What terrified her was being out in public for the first time after marrying Jackson Anderson. The public was not to know of their arrangement yet—unless if Elizabeth was asking for a death wish— but something about it all being a secret sent a thrill to Elizabeth. She did not know how the Anderson's would introduce her as either.

"A ball," she said to herself, reddening her cheeks. "As Jackson's wife."

As if Elizabeth was performing a ritual, Jackson appeared by the door, opening it with the sheer gentleness and confidence of remembering it as his bedroom.

Elizabeth caught her breath and looked in the mirror, his reflection standing behind hers as he walked inside and closed the door, stilling right there. He rarely came into the bedroom, only did so if he needed something crucial.

He never knocked. She was finding ways on having that conversation with him. It always frightened her. That afternoon she was in nothing but a thin, transparent, yellow dress she had pulled over after taking a shower.

It was relieving for both of them to realize she had not been bare... fully.

Jackson stood and looked at her, examining her damp hair that let droplets fall to the floor with drips. He frowned at that.

The smallest things always set him off, she noticed.

"Yes?" She broke the silence.

This seemed to get his attention well enough. "Be dressed in a minute, Vaughn is downstairs and has just arrived. We would like to introduce the two of you to each other."

"Lady Vaughn? Your distant cousin you mean?" She spun around and faced him. He had a stern expression.

"Yes, I do not recall knowing another woman of such name."