"Lies are a little fortress; inside them you can feel safe and powerful. Through your little fortress of lies you try to run your life and manipulate others. But the fortress needs walls, so you build some. These are the justifications for your lies. You know, like you are doing this to protect someone you love, to keep them from feeling pain. Whatever works, just so you feel okay about the lies." W.M. Paul Young

----

XIII.

"Does it ever bother you?" asked Susanna.

"Does what bother me?" replied Mr Whitfield.

"The way Mr Bishop portrays you?"

Susanna had watched Mr Whitfield's first performance that afternoon, and it truly was a repeat of what she had seen in London, without, of course, the runaway horse. Mr Bishop had delighted the crowds with his showmanship, and he had once again regaled the people of Ashwood with his tale of Diego the uncivilised savage who could only understand some strange, obscure language. To Susanna, it honestly sounded invented. In knowing Mr Whitfield as she did, she couldn't help but feel angered on his behalf. He wasn't uncivilised. He wasn't a savage. He wasn't a stupid man who needed to have words shouted at him.

He wasn't a freak to be gawked at.

Mr Whitfield was talented. Without the guise of his Diego character, the relationship he demonstrated between himself and Argent was remarkable. Susanna had certainly never seen anything like it before. Surely that was enough? Couldn't he be talented as himself? As Alexander Whitfield?

Mr Bishop was using his skin, his culture, his experience, to make a mockery out of him. A mockery and a profit. Mr Bishop was quick to pass around his hat at the end of the performance to collect the hard-earned coins of the villagers.

Susanna had sneaked down to the stable after returning from the performance. Her mother believed that she was reading in the library, as that was somewhere where she was unlikely to be disturbed. She had found Mr Whitfield tending to Argent diligently, speaking to her in rapid, yet tender French, that was much too quick for her to translate.

Mr Whitfield was quiet for a long moment as he brushed Argent. He was dressed properly now, wearing a waist jacket over his shirt, though the sleeves were rolled up to expose his strong forearms.

"No one has ever asked me that before," Mr Whitfield finally said quietly. The hand that held the brush stopped, and he turned to look down upon her, his dark eyes startlingly sad. "What does it matter? People believe it. People find it so easy to believe that I am what Len says."

Susanna winced at the pain in his voice. "They believe it because they don't know any better," she insisted. "For so many, particularly those," she hated to say it, "of my ... of our," she huffed with embarrassment, "of a certain social standing," she concluded untidily. "For so many, their village, their town, their social circle is their whole world. They don't know what is out in the world unless it is shown to them. And Mr Bishop is ... whether he realises it or not, he is educating the uneducated, and doing it most grievously."

"But where is the lie?" posed Mr Whitfield. "He found me in Saint-Domingue. That is true. I did not understand a word of English until it was taught to me. I speak a foreign language and I do not know how to ..." he stopped himself, but Susanna knew the ending to that sentence. He did not know how to read or write. "To this world, I am a savage. If they knew what I was, how I lived ... you would think me a savage."

Susanna reached out tentatively and rested her hand on Argent's neck. The horse was calm and still, breathing easily under the control of her master. Mr Whitfield looked upon her hand with an unreadable expression.

"One can know all they need to about a man by simply observing how he treats his horse," Susanna mused. "The real savages live in houses like that," Susanna pointed back towards her home, "and keep their horses and their wives like trophies, beating them until they shine."

He did not react, but he resumed brushing Argent. "I suppose then that I have known a few savages in my time," Mr Whitfield replied. He stopped again abruptly, his hands dropping to his sides before he properly turned to face Susanna. He stared down at her with a quizzical, furrowed brow and looked upon her with intent, curious eyes. "You truly believe that, don't you?"

Susanna blinked. "Why, yes."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Why don't you see me as they do? Why don't you look upon me with a sneer? Disgust? Why would someone like you even talk to someone like me?"

He truly appeared to be in disbelief, as though he had lost control of his tongue and these questions had spilled out of him. It was as though he had been holding in his curiosity since their first meeting.

Susanna was startled to say the least. But she thought about his questions seriously. Why didn't she react the way someone like Lord Bertram had? But then the answer was plain. "I do not believe that one man is better than another because he was born to rich parents compared to one born to poor parents. I never have. My dearest friend was a servant in my house, and if I believed in this system then I would never have associated with her. I know many would consider me foolish, but I would rather know, understand and respect people of a different background to me than care about what another person thinks of me.

"I do not see you as they do, Mr Whitfield, because I do not see your skin as something to be pitied of looked down upon. You are different from me by way of experience, but you are not better than me, the same as I am not better than you. When all is said and done, we are all people, are we not? I do not find you disgusting, Mr Whitfield."

Susanna did, indeed, find him beautiful, though she had not the courage to say it.

"Someone, someplace, sometime decided a hierarchy and inflicted it upon the world. But I do not have to agree, and I certainly do not have to obey it. Revolutions have been started with less."

Mr Whitfield's mouth upturned even more, and he appeared impressed, and, if Susanna was correct, slightly in awe. Under his breath, he uttered something that sounded like, "J'ai des ennuis."

Susanna had to think for a moment before she understood what he had said, or what she thought he had said. Why on earth would he think that he was in trouble?

"Will you do me a favour, my lady?" Mr Whitfield then asked.

Susanna nodded.

"Will you call me "Alex"?"

Susanna's lips parted. She had never known a man by his Christian name who was not a member of her family. But she felt privileged, and her cheeks warmed. "Yes," she breathed, "Alex," she added, testing the sound of his name on her tongue.

Alex smiled in response to hearing it.

"But then you must call me "Susanna"," she then insisted.

"As you wish, Susanna," replied Alex with a grin.

***

Susanna was an angel. Alex was becoming more and more certain of this each day that he was in residence at Ashwood House. She was good. It could be the only word to describe her every motivation. She was good, and she cared, and she wanted the best for everyone and anyone. Including him.

Ever since their conversation at the stable, Alex had not been able to rid her words from his mind. He hadn't wanted to, as he had felt her truth and sincerity in every breath, but they ate away at him, at his defences, day in and day out. It was as though he had constructed a wall, a great wall made of stone and mortar, between himself, his real self, and the man he was meant to be in this situation, and Susanna was tearing it apart without even realising.

Each day he and Len performed a horse charm act for the villagers, both in Ashwood and in the neighbouring parish. Susanna attended each one and Alex found himself looking over at her constantly. When Len would mock him to the crowd, Alex would look to Susanna, and she would be biting down her lip to stop herself from crying out.

Susanna hated this for Alex. It was clear as day on her face, and the way he appreciated her compassion was unfathomable. He wished he could tell her that he hated this for himself, too. He hated all of this. But as understanding as she was, there was one thing that he knew she would not understand.

"Get on with it, Alex," hissed Len as he walked past him at the conclusion of their fifth performance. "There is only so long we can stay with this family before we will have to leave. Get a move on." Len continued on past Alex as he approached the cheering crowd with his hat extended to collect their coins.

Susanna came to Alex once more at the stable. She hadn't come every day as she often couldn't escape her mother. Len was often responsible for this. But she had come on this day.

She had changed since arriving home and was wearing a plain dress in a soft green colour. She was not wearing a bonnet, leaving the blonde curls at the sides of her face free to gently move in the afternoon breeze.

She was breathtaking. And Alex was quite certain that she had absolutely no idea of this.

Alex heard Len's words echo in his mind, but they were quickly eclipsed by Susanna's, the ones responsible for ripping apart the wall inside of himself. "What do you say to that ride we discussed back in London?" he suggested.

A ride was daring, just as it had been when he had suggested meeting that night in London. That had been near suicide. They would be seen. There were servants all about the grounds of Ashwood. Just inside the stable were grooms tending to the Ashwood horses.

But that wasn't why Alex wanted to go.

Susanna smiled, albeit warily. "I am not dressed to ride."

Argent was without a saddle, as she usually was, save for when they were travelling. Alex effortless swung up onto her back and he held out his hand to Susanna.

But she did take his hand, and Alex lifted her up onto Argent's back. She was seated in front of him, her legs to one side as ladies did, and she immediately gripped Argent's mane with a worried whimper.

"She won't move," Alex promised her. "She won't hurt you."

"She bolted once before," worried Susanna. "And it is such a way to fall." She peered over to the ground.

"I won't let you fall." Alex snaked his arms around Susanna's waist and gave the French command to Argent as he kicked in his heels.

Alex had not explored much of the estate, but it seemed to go on forever as they rode across perfectly kept lawns, through expansive woods before finally coming to a beautiful clearing beside a large pond. The area was not entirely untouched. A white marble building was situated beside the pond, though it was unlike any building Alex had seen before. It was all columns, of which he could hear the breeze blowing through.

Susanna was leaning against Alex's chest. She was so close that he could smell the floral scent of soap that she had used to clean her hair. He was practically holding her. All he had to do was move his hands ...

Alex swiftly shifted and helped Susanna down off of Argent's back. She stumbled slightly as she found the steady ground below, before she turned around to look up at him.

"That ... that was terrifying," she remarked breathlessly. "But amazing."

Alex jumped down off of Argent's back as well and allowed her to graze. "Don't you see? You have nothing to be afraid of where Argent is concerned."

Susanna laughed nervously. "I might need a little more practise before I agree with you." She then looked past Alex towards the marble monolith, and something in her features saddened.

Alex frowned. "What is it?"

"Oh," said Susanna, startled. "It's my father."

Alex's eyes widened as his head snapped around, anxiously searching for a man, who would most certainly be carrying a pistol. "Where?" Alex looked back in the direction from whence they had come but could not spot another person.

To his chagrin, Susanna laughed quietly. "My father is in there," she explained, pointing to the columned building. "He passed away four years ago this December."

Alex immediately felt foolish, but his own embarrassment was quickly erased when he saw the emotion on Susanna's face, and the tears that quickly filled her eyes. He wanted to offer her comfort, but he didn't know what to say.

"You would have liked him," Susanna continued. "He had a terrific sense of humour. Often at the expense of others. Mostly Mother."

Alex could see that Susanna had dearly loved her father. He wondered what had happened to him. And then he wondered what the poor, dead man would think in knowing that his only daughter was but ... prey.

"I am sorry for your loss, Susanna," Alex uttered sincerely, and almost inaudibly.

But Susanna heard him. "Thank you," she replied. She then wiped her eyes quickly with the back of her sleeve before sucking in a quick breath and changing the subject. "I have never heard you mention your father. What is he like?"

"I have no idea," replied Alex honestly. He watched as Susanna bit down on her lip and contorted her face as though she had just sucked on a lemon. He chuckled. "Fear not," he assured her.

"I am sorry, I should have more tact," she murmured.

"No, you merely come from a world where people have parents who are married," said Alex. "I know his name."

"What is it?"

"Alexander Whitfield," replied Alex with a laugh.

Susanna's eyes widened.

"He was a white man, a sailor. He worked aboard a trade ship. He saw my mother while collecting cargo from the man who owned her," explained Alex. "It was brief, and she never saw him again, but she gave me his name anyway." That was all Alex knew about his father. It was all his mother had known about him.

Susanna was quiet for a brief moment before she repeated the one word that seemed to trouble her. "Owned," she whispered. 

----

Hope you enjoyed it!

Ah, what a weekend. Made perfectly perfect by the utter perfection that is Fearless (Taylor's Version). I don't know how many times I have listened to it now. But I'm 14 again and hearing these songs for the first time. 

I honestly still remember the first time I heard the album. I'd got a $20 iTunes voucher and had bought "Love Story" and I was sitting in the computer room listening to it on repeat. To this day, it's my most played song on iTunes. I then bought the CD and played it over and over again to the point where I knew every word. I can still remember playing my mum "Fifteen" and saying "THIS IS ME!" and she's like "What boy with a car are you dating?"

It's been a 13 year relationship and I've loved every minute. 

Other than that, the Star Wars party was fun and I got laughs at my costume which was great. 

And then it was the first day of cold weather here today (it's 10 degrees which I know isn't freezing but when you're Australian that's Antarctica weather) and our pilot light on the heater would not reignite so it's been freezing inside today so I've been wearing a blanket and a beanie around. I'm currently wearing a beanie as I'm about to go to sleep. 

Oh, and I finished A Court of Mist and Fury. I made it to Chapter 54 like a comment said I needed to do and yes, it was good. I liked it more than ACOTAR but it still dragggggggeedddd. But then it ended on a cliffhanger so I had to get the next book. WHICH IS FREAKING LONGER. 80 chapters omg! Rhys definitely grew on me so we'll see where the next book goes. 

But I've read 7 books so far this year so I'm doing well! 

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