I knew my strength to hold back would leave me once I was left alone, where the sound of my emotions was louder than thunder. The locking of my bedroom door was the nail in the coffin, and the break in the dam.

My vision blurred as my throat closed up. It was a harsh, inglorious battle to smother down the sadness and hurt. My cheeks were wet with tears, a sob wracking my body. A light throbbing started behind my eyes, willing me to release what I wished to still imprison. Commanding myself not to cry was futile when the tears spilled of their own accord, the sniffles unyielding.

 I thought I was through with crying. The amount of tears I had shed over the past few years could have created a small lake. As I grew older, I learned to block against that wretched feeling that pushed me to cry; that made me so vulnerable and weak. I learned to channel anger and perseverance because it was the only way to push through difficult times and live.

Yet here I was, weeping and choking over a man.

It was pathetic as it was ridiculous. I could not control myself nor search for the perseverance I'd accustomed myself to.

My being was a plethora of emotions. I hated him for insulting me and treating our relationship like some fragile sand castle that could be washed away at any time. I hated him for making me care so much about him, for making me think that I meant more to him. I hated myself for getting hurt so easily, for letting myself get hurt, for saying awful things to him in a bid to hurt him too. I hated myself for succumbing to this weakness.

My lungs expanded with a sharp breath, my nose barely letting me breathe. The tears streamed down my jaw to my neck in rivulets, seeking to drown me.

Heavens, I hated him so much!

A knock sounded at the door, followed by Lea's soft voice, "Mavis?"

I cupped a hand over my mouth in an effort to get my hyperventilation under control.

She tried the door knob, only to notice the lock in place. "Mavis, please open the door. I'm sorry about everything. I know you didn't do it on purpose. There must be an explanation for what happened."

Instead of enveloping me in reassurance, her words intensified my sobs and aggravated my hurt. I pressed my mouth harder to stifle my sniffles and gasps.

It was her faith in me and his lack thereof. She took my side, so why couldn't he? Did he dislike me that much?

"Mavis," Lea called again, her voice imploring. "Mavis, please talk to me. We'll find out what went wrong together. Don't blame yourself, please."

I shuffled away from the door. I was incapable of having any kind of conversation, and neither would I let her see me like this.

I retreated to my bed, sitting against the pillows and pulling my knees up. The door rustled again, but her voice didn't come through. Minutes passed with me sobbing into my knees and no interruptions.

When my tears dried, my head throbbed while my eyes were swollen and aching. Even with the headache, thoughts crowded my mind persistently.

Tristan made it perfectly clear he wanted me gone from his sight forever. What was the point in staying here if he considered me nothing more than an outsider? We still had a month left of courtship, but he didn't want anything to do with me. He wouldn't be here anyway, since he had to go on a quest to save Adrian.

Adrian.

Everyone else wouldn't look at me the same way after today. Who would want a daughter-in-law whose mistake could have killed one of their own?

Tristan was right. I didn't belong here in this place...in this family. I never did.

With a sniffle, I climbed down the bed and walked towards the wardrobe. Reaching behind the fancy dresses hung up, I pulled out a dress neatly folded in a pile on the shelf.  It was six years old, with a great deal of patchwork done from the wear and tear of the maroon wool. This simple dress was me, and it signalled where I truly belonged.

********

My village was just as I remembered. Small, quiet and littered with animal droppings. All the paths were dirt roads without a sighting of cobblestone. The houses were small but well-spaced in a mix of homes and shops. The only shops around were the butcher's, carpenter's, a local tavern and other small businesses we required in our daily routines.

We didn't have close access to metal, clothing, medicine, or accessories. All our food was grown or reared, with the animal population far surpassing the human; so much so that goats and chicken usually wandered into homes and shops on a usual basis.

My home had changed. The first thing I noticed was the repaired roof, seeming to have undergone a complete replacement of the shingles. Despite the rainy weather, the grass was well-maintained, with no indication of weeds that usually sprung up everywhere around the house. Madam Felicity said she had appointed a caretaker here, and it seemed it wasn't a lie.

I drove the key into the keyhole and twisted, opening up the bungalow for the first time in several weeks.

A wave of nostalgia hit me as soon as I stepped inside. Everything was exactly how I left it. The parlour to my right with one sofa, armchair, and table. The kitchen to my left, which also served as the dining area. There were no rugs or carpeting on the cold cement floor, and the stone walls were bare save for an old painting of Jennifer hanging above the fireplace in the parlour.

I continued through the corridor at the end of the parlour and found the door leading to my and Jennifer's bedroom. Since it was rather small, our beds were too close together, separated only by a bedside table upon which an oil lantern sat.

We used to share a bed when I first arrived here until it became too small for the both of us. Jennifer's ailments seemed to worsen from the discomfort, so I had to work hard for another. Thankfully, some of the villagers heard of our troubles and contributed to our cause.

We didn't have a wardrobe, so we kept our belongings in separate trunks on one side of the wall.

I slung my sisal rucksack down my shoulders and placed it on my single bed with a sigh.

Home Sweet Home.

*******

I was back in my ragged skirts, alone in my small dark house. At night, I lit the oil lanterns and fireplace. I made myself a meal from the rice and vegetables I purchased on the way here, and sat by the fireplace to eat.

The silence was defeaning, paving way for thoughts I didn't want to have. Thoughts of how lively meal time was at the Devereux mansion, and how often Tristan mocked me for 'inhaling' a full plate of food in under five minutes, to which I would reply with a kick to his leg.

Tomorrow, they would be celebrating Adrian's birthday. I would be heading out to look for work.

The meal was unappetizing. My eyes were stinging.

It was too quiet. Too lonely. Too hard to keep the tears from falling again.

********

I awoke late the next day. My body was lethargic, and I was in no mood to start hunting for jobs.

I had just come into the kitchen when a knock sounded at my door.

I didn't think anyone saw me arrive yesterday, but perhaps they saw the light from within.

Sighing, I walked towards the door as the knock sounded again.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"It's me, dear."

My hand froze on the door handle once I recognized the voice as Madam Felicity's.

"Mae dear? Will you please let me in? We have much to talk about."

My teeth sunk into my bottom lip. Why was she here? I didn't have anything to say to her.

"I don't believe you intended to harm Addy yesterday," she avowed. "You made a mistake, and mistakes happen. It's alright, dear. I don't hold it against you, and neither does Addy. So please, come and celebrate his birthday with us."

Mistake? Was that really what it was? I remembered quite clearly putting the apricot cake in the upper cabinet and the apple cake on the island. I didn't touch either of those cakes until it was time for Adrian to taste.

The only mistake I made was not gobbling up the apricot cake sooner. But as Tristan said, only an outsider would want to harm Adrian. My side of the story didn't matter.

"Mae dear," Madam Felicity knocked on the door again.

I remained quiet. Speaking to her would only encourage her to bring me back. I was perfectly familiar with her tenacity and calculation by now. I had learnt that it was pointless to argue with the woman once she made up her mind about something, and that no lengths were too far to get what she wanted.

As rude as it seemed, ignoring her was the only way to handle her. And indeed, she stopped insisting after a few more minutes.

Her last words were, "Let's go, Josy. It seems she isn't ready, and we have to oversee the preparations."

I didn't leave the house that day. I spent my time cleaning up the place and organizing the belongings I had brought with me. Even though I hadn't wished to take anything the Devereux family had gifted me during my stay, I couldn't help carrying with me the adventure novel I hadn't finished reading. The novel, the silver gown I adorned on the first night I met Tristan, and his neck ties were the only souvenirs I had of that family.

I could not, for the life of me, understand why I held onto the damn neck ties. They were the physical embodiment of painful memories, but I still wanted them near me, on me. I could not bear to throw them out or part with them.

Why? Why?

********

The next day was even drearier than the last. It was dark, cloudy and rainy—a gloomy morning to accentuate my own gloom. I walked out of the bedroom in my nightgown and through the corridor. My aim was to put the buckets out and collect rain water, for the cans in the bath house would soon be empty, and I dreaded a trip to the well.

I froze in my footsteps at the sight of Madam Felicity seated calmly in the armchair in the parlour. Miss Jocelyn stood next to her, both hands leaning on the handle of a large black parasol.

Tristan's mother was dressed elegantly as usual for her outings, in a sky blue dress and matching picture hat, a brown fur stole wrapped around her form. Her gloved hands settled in her lap. In contrast, her handmaiden donned a simple black frock with a neckline reaching her jaw.

Madam Felicity smiled at me. "Hello, dear."

I didn't return her pleasantries. "How are you here?"

She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "I had a key made and let myself in. it's raining outside, you know."

I frowned. "Isn't that illegal?"

"Not when it comes to me," was her simple response. "Now. Sit down, and let's have a chat."

It seemed I had underestimated the felicitous but conniving woman. Again.

Author's note.

Sometimes, I think that in another book, Adrian would be the main character.

Love or hate Madam Felicity?