Manor of Memories

6. S-eparation

ˌsepəˈrāSH(ə)n: the state of being moved apart or the act of severing contractual relations

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Sleep eluded Lilly that night. She tossed and turned, robbed of a tranquil rest as her thoughts were wracked. A spectre plagued her dreams, his sea-coloured eyes flashing through a series of emotions: first annoyance, then amusement, and finally settling on longing– his expression paralysing her in place. His hand reached out towards her and she found that she could move again. She turned and ran, glancing back only to see him looking at her in confusion, which then immediately morphed into pain. Her heart spiralled into frenzy as the raw emotion contorted his boyish face, ever growing smaller in the distance.

Her mind would not grant her the slightest respite as the sequence of events mercilessly repeated on in an endless loop. When she gasped awake, she was drenched in a cold sweat, with her hair plastered to her face and her chest heaving.

She slowly sat up, her eyes adjusting to the darkness as her feet swung over the side of her bed and she hunched over. Inhaling raggedly, she stood on the ground with unsteady legs, the cool wooden floor bringing her back to the land of the conscious.

Reaching over to the ceramic pitcher on the small bedside table, she poured herself a tumbler of water. She drank it greedily, her dehydrated throat grateful for the offering. She firmly set the empty cup on back on the oak surface, licking her parched lips as she padded over to the window.

Drawing back red-and-russet patterned curtains, she peered outside through the glass and pushed up the painted frame. A gust of the chilly morning spring air burst inside and pelted her senses into complete awareness, also helping to dry the sweat-soaked nightgown that currently clung to her like a second skin.

She stuck her head out the window and for several lingering moments, allowed her eyes to freely wander over the idyllic country landscape. The shadows of the night were retreating as the sun began to slowly rise over the horizon.

She shut the single-hung sash window and retreated back inside. Frowning, she contemplated on what to do next. She turned back to her four-poster bed, the crumpled beige sheets and strewn pillows a lacklustre reminder of her unpleasant night.

Knowing that sleep was not a valid option anymore, she shook her head. She changed into a thin morning dress and picked up a strewn shawl draped over one of the chairs, wrapping it around herself. Heading outside her room, she shuffled along to the kitchens, picking up a lit chamberstick along the way.

The head cook was already at work, ordering the servants about for preparation of the day's meals. When he spotted Lilly, he could not help but to exclaim in surprise.

"Miss Lillian! What are you doing awake this early in the morning?"

She gave him a wan smile. "Sleep evades me. Could I have something prepared to eat?"

"Why, of course. Anything you wish."

"Just some porridge. My appetite is rather weak."

Around half an hour later, Lilly was comfortably seated at the empty dining table. With her spoon, she pushed the porridge around in the bowl, taking her time to eat– but not for the purpose of savouring. The small bites she swallowed were tasteless, more simply for the intentions of filling her empty stomach and distracting her thoughts. However, it appeared that they were insufficient for the latter purpose.

The servants proceeded into the dining room, setting various morning dishes on the table. Shortly after, her parents arrived, surprised to see their daughter arise before them as they joined her for breakfast.