Imprisoned by secrets

Chapter 5

"Where's my father?" Beatrice stood at the edge of the dinner table wearing a beige evening gown.

Her face was devoid of artificial adornment. She bore an aura of dignity and rare beauty even though it was evident she hadn't made any effort to look pretty. Her eyes were guarded as she held onto the back of a chair. 

Her mother was calmly cutting her chicken. She didn't even turn when she heard her daughter's somewhat agitated voice.

The way Leila gracefully lifted her fork to her small mouth and dabbed it before speaking brought back terrible memories. It reminded Beatrice of all the times her mother had made her sit up straight while she taught her how to be a proper lady.

Those lessons taught Beatrice that there were many ways to inflict pain without getting physical.

"He'll be joining us soon. He told us to start without him." Leila said.

Beatrice sighed as she took her seat. She wasn't keen on sitting with her mother but it wasn't like her father's presence was any better. She just preferred knowing where they both were at a particular time. She didn't trust them at all.

The servants immediately put several dishes in front of her before respectfully backing out of the room. They always had a way of slipping in and out of a room making you wonder whether they blended in with the interior decor.

However, Beatrice always sensed where they were and they were never able to sneak up on her except if she wanted them to.

She barely even glanced at them as she was too preoccupied with suppressing her thoughts. She was scared to think lest her mother discovered all of her dirty secrets just by reading her mind. Beatrice had always thought Leila was an evil witch after all.

She hated having to sit with her parents for dinner. She hated smiling at them and hated having to listen to their casually veiled threats.

These days, they wasted no time reminding her of her duty to the family. It was so exhausting but it wouldn't be for too long.

Her wedding was in a little over a week and then, she would finally be free from her parents' clutches.

Even if it meant marrying that sorry excuse of a man. It was a small price to pay in exchange for freedom from the bondage of being under their roof.

"I'm speaking to you, young lady." Her mother's voice broke into her train of thoughts.

Leila's lips were drawn into two thin lines. Since she didn't like frowning lest it gave her wrinkles, she made sure her glare was as cold as the Arctic.

"Yes, mother?" Beatrice glanced at her mother briefly before gluing her eyes to her almost empty plate. This diet was brutal. She wondered if she would be able to sneak some food into her room that night.

"I said, I got a call from the florist today. For the wedding. He said you haven't chosen the bouquet that you would be carrying." Leila's voice was so cold.

Beatrice started to shrug when she remembered it wasn't acceptable. Shrugging wasn't allowed on the dinner table and was equivalent to slapping a priest.

"I'd give him a call today. I simply haven't had the time." Beatrice took a huge gulp of water. She avoided the red wine on the table.  It wouldn't go well with her migraine medication.

Leila's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"You also haven't had the time to go cake hunting with Thomas, I see. The baker said you actually told her: 'whip something up and stop bothering me'." Leila mimicked Beatrice's bored voice.