SHUFFLING. Shifting. Light. Birds. Chattering. Bread.
Nothing could describe morning better than that.
With a deep groan, Elizabeth sat upright, stretching her arms out with a stiff yawn. She rubbed her eyes to adjust to the familiar surrounding.
Last nights tub was still in the middle of the room, her clothes were neatly folded onto the sofa besides the bed. Jackson's bed.
Elizabeth's face flushed with memories of the night before. She pulled the silk linens over her chest, covering whatever she could of her body, although no one was in the room besides her.
The empty spot by the bed still smelt of timber and raspberry. The place had been made, the two pillows and linens arranged well enough to make Elizabeth scrunch her face.
Jackson was neater than she thought—although where he worked said otherwise.
Elizabeth walked out of bed, slipping her petticoat back. She stood ahead of the dressing table, fixing her hair down with a spare brush she found in the drawers.
Elizabeth gave herself a once over before walking out of the bedroom. Peering across the halls, she made sure there was no figure in sight before tiptoeing towards the East wing, cursing why Jackson chose the furthest room from hers.
Just when Elizabeth's room was in sight, a woman appeared right from her left. She quickly jumped and turned back around.
"Elizabeth?" The familiar voice spoke. She turned back around with a forced smile.
"Scarlet," she breathed and forced a smile. The middle aged servant was holding a tray of rice in hands, her eyes falling from the head to the toes of the woman ahead of her.
"You are not changed?"
"Not yet, I was—" she fiddled with her fingers, looking for the best words —"looking for the restroom."
"Restroom? Why? Is there a problem with yours?" Scarlets face was filled with worry.
"No," responded she. "I just wanted to see the other ones, to see the decor and... smell."
"Smell?"
Elizabeth's faced heated up in embarrassment. Jesus, she sounded like a toilet enthusiast.
"How's breakfast going? Need a hand?" She quickly changed subject.
"We have twenty-four hands in the mansion, I think those are more than enough," Scarlet chuckled. "The table will be ready in an hour. Although there is a physician downstairs, he says Mr Jackson called him in."
Goodness, how is he so fast? I did not think he took the injury so serious, Elizabeth thought to herself, her ankle had increasingly improved, she barely limped.
"Of course, I'll be down in ten minutes," Elizabeth managed, walking past Scarlet and to her bedroom, closing the door behind.
"Breakfast will be ready in an hour," she breathed, pacing around the room, "which means everyone will be there; Luke, Senior Anderson and Jackson." Her face heated up at the memory of last night.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," his words echoed in her head. They have arrived the bridge now, yet what's next? Walk over? Jump into the water?
Is he even by the bridge with her?
Elizabeth shook her head. Whatever happened with Jackson last night was nothing, it was a normal thing that happened between couples.
YOU ARE READING
The Ember In The Storm (undergoing editing)
Historical FictionElizabeth Lamar, a young slaved woman of dreams to be a playwright is granted her brothers freedom given she agrees to marry her masters obnoxious, narcissistic and ill tempered son. However, he, as obnoxious as he is portrayed, has much less of a...
