I sulked through the house and had a foot in my bedroom when a crash came from the room William was staying in.
I didn't know if he was home or not, and wondered if Hannah had accidentally broken something. I walked down the hall to peek into the cracked door, hoping to be able to help the young maid in some way.
William stood from the side of his bed, his hand bleeding freely onto the red carpet.
I opened the door as he cursed himself. "Are you ok?" I asked, not knowing anything about first aid and doubting I could help.
He nodded and turned away, his face red. I hesitated before giving in to curiosity and stepped toward him. On the nightstand was a picture of my mother around my age and a young boy with a curly mop of black hair.
The glass was shattered but the frame and picture were fine. I tried to bend down to help pick up the glass but William pulled me away gently. "I don't want you to cut yourself, too."
His hands were shaking, and anger hid in his eyes. The warm chocolate was almost black from inner rage. My fingers froze over the glass as I tried to pry my gaze away from his.
"It's fine, I'll be careful." I pulled away from his grasp, not in fear of him, but myself.
I turned hide my face and the sparks. I grabbed the small trash bin by the bed and started picking up the shards while watching his shadow on the wall.
He stood, staring at me before stomping into the bathroom. A cabinet slammed closed before I heard a new string of creative cursed. I stood and brushed the tiny grains of glass from my skin before following him.
He stood at the sink as he poured a steady stream of alcohol into the gash. A vivid ribbon of crimson swirled from his hand into the drain.
“I think it's clean.”
He glared before trying to find something to cover the wound. He stuck a towel over the gash and panic stabbed me in the chest. Mother would go insane if she saw the stain on her white towel.
I flung myself past him and pulled a small box from the cabinet beneath the sink. "Sit." I demanded, pointing to the counter.
His eyes narrowed but he leaned against the marble. I pulled out gauze and surgical tape and wrapped his hand as tightly and neatly as I could. Heat flushed my face as he watched me concentrate, not sure if I was doing it right.
I tried to give him a reassuring smile when I was done. The anger was gone from his face, but I stumbled back from the agony in his eyes. What had happened in Frankfort to put him into such a mood?
I shifted awkwardly. "Is everything ok?" I asked, doubting he would tell me.
He simply nodded. I was growing frustrated with his sulky silence.
I realized he must want to be alone. I stalked from the bathroom and tried not to slam the bedroom door on my way out
I didn’t know why I was so angry. I had no right to demand conversation from anyone, especially someone I had planned on avoiding anyway.
It was better if he wanted to be alone but it hurt knowing he didn't want to tell me what was hurting him. I didn't understand why I felt so awful about it.
I told myself it was because he had been so nice in the garden. We had begun to get to know each other. It was easy to like him. I knew it wasn't easy to like me. I would have to give time to, though I still prayed he never would.
I passed my bedroom, not wanting to throw a tantrum in my room and destroy something in a childish tizzy. I needed the comfort of outside but didn't trust myself with my flowers.
I headed out the back door to make my way across the grass and up the small hill. I sat beside the willow and watched the still, grayish water. I tried to calm myself, empty my mind, and put myself into the moment. I didn’t want to think about William, or even myself.
The wind fluttered my light blue skirt. It danced around my thighs as the water rippled gently. I thought about the way William's hair would have played against the wind.
I berated myself and tried again to clear everything from my thoughts.
I didn't hear the footsteps but noticed the long shadow pass over me onto the water. I looked up in time to see William fold his long legs beneath him onto the grass beside me.
His voice was brooding, "You're not going to run away this time?" His joking tone was almost believable, but the tremble of his syllables showed the incident still bothered him.
“No.”
The silence, so different from our time in the garden, felt heavy. I stared ahead at the water, not wanting to leave and prove him right. I refused to speak He would return with short answers anyway, especially if I were to ask what was bothering him.
He gave in soon, though. "Elizabeth told me you don't come out here often."
"Why did you ask her?"
He shrugged. I knew I sounded rude and off-putting but didn't care. He didn't seem to care that he had been rude to me. "I like this spot, asked if it got used much."
"I do come out here often, but not when Mother is home." I turned and pointed to the huge window that was the length of her office. "When she's home she's usually in there and can see me. I avoid it unless she's away."
"Why wouldn't you want Elizabeth to see you? Why would you have to hide?" His brows twitched in curiosity and worry.
"I'm not hiding," I bit the words at him, knowing I sounded too defensive. "I simply like my privacy. It's easier to live when you don't have someone constantly watching for any small infraction to use as an excuse." I wasn't yelling, but I had lost control over my words.
I sucked in my breath. I wasn't going to do that again. I had to be more disciplined.
"An excuse for what?" His tone wasn't curious anymore. It was as if he knew what my answer would be. The darkness in his voice made me afraid- not of him, but of what would happen if I was honest.
I searched my brain fast, trying to find a way to amend what I had done. "To be upset with me," was all I could say without lying.
His voice was soft and coaxing, "What does Elizabeth do when she's upset with you?"
My lungs seized as I took in his sincere expression of concern. The pain in his eyes was for me.
To protect him, and Mother, I had to get away from the conversation. "It's none of your business."
He winced at the words. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to take them back and apologize but didn't want to hurt his relationship with Mother.
He stared back out at the pond, his jaw tight. The pulse in his neck throbbed at an accelerated speed. I had helped no one. What if he ended up talking to Mother about it?
"William, I'm sorry." My voice was quiet.
I hadn't meant to say the words, but he looked at me and I could see that they meant little to him. I wanted to say more, to explain away everything and ease his worries, but his eyes were sharp and digging into me with excruciating pain.
His words surprised me. "You don't deserve that, Ruth."
I watched him, trying to see if he truly believed it. Sadly, he seemed to. "You don't know what I deserve. And you don't know what you're talking about, so drop it." I hadn't meant to be harsh, simply honest. "Don't bring it up again. Not to me, and especially not to Mother."
"What about Earnest?" Through his sarcastic remark I could see he was pushing from angry to livid.
"It would do you no good." I sighed, disappointed in myself. "Anyway, it's nothing to get worked up about. Mother had it worse." I didn't know if it was true but imagined it to be after what she had told me about her father. "I'm sensitive is all."
He looked me over and I learned what it felt like for people when I watched for a lie. I refused to look away. He seemed appeased when he turned his contemplative stare to the line of trees.
Worry churned in my gut, not fully trusting him to not confront my mother or father. I was strangely happy about the way the conversation had gone. I'd rather fight with him than to prove myself sick with my affection.
I tried to think of somewhere I could go or something I could claim to need to be doing to avoid more conversation with him.
The wind blew
the canopy of trees across the pond before it met us. His curls danced as I wished I'd been able to witness before. I looked away quickly when he turned back to me, another piercing question in his expression.
I pretended to be playing with the grass as the wind gratefully hid my face with my hair. I waited for him to voice what was on his mind but he never did. I eventually gave in and peered up at him.
There it was, the shock and misery all over again. What was it that ached in him? Was it something I caused?
"Are you alright?" I asked, not knowing if I wanted him to respond.
He muttered incoherently for a second before jumping to his feet. "I have to... paperwork."
I cringed as he sprinted away from me.
His long gait took him across the lawn with ease and grace, confirming my fears. He was beginning to see what Mother detested in me and couldn't stand to be around me. He even used the same excuse she always did to get away from me, though she had enough practiced patience to not literally run.
I turned away as he disappeared into the house and let myself release the tears, destroying the pieces of me I had managed to still hold together.
Chapter 8- Goldenrod
My heart ran dry along with my eyes when I finally stood, composed and numb. I slipped into the house and up the stairs to my room.
I stayed there for the rest of the day, listening for any sound from William. I laid in my bathtub to try to read when I realized what I was doing was unhealthy.
The sun was sinking, the sky a bruise of deep blue and violet, when I decided to simply lay in bed and enjoy a depression I hadn't been able to feel for a while. I hoped to sleep or weep. I would do anything to relieve the agony of being an unpleasant creature.
I couldn't do either. All night I laid in bed, trying to cry, rest, or do anything to ease the abyss of self-loathing. I couldn't even move if I had wanted to, the pain overcoming all my senses.
The stars were fading when I finally drifted off, a shallow doze of an escape.
My eyes flew open to a light knock on the door. I hadn't been asleep for long. The sun still wasn't visible but its light crept into view. I covered my head and ignored the person, not wanting it to be William.
The door opened and anger flared in my chest as I dug myself deeper under the blanket.
"Ruth?" The small voice of our maid, timid and tired, met my ears. I peeked to see her leaning into my room from around the door.
"Yes, Hannah?" I kept my voice kind, knowing she didn't have many friends. I had tried to befriend her but she never reciprocated.
"Your mother called. She and your father will be home by lunch."
I almost asked why she had to wake me up to tell me but realized Mother probably demanded her to force me to rise early. "Thank you." I gave her a smile before burrowing back under the blankets.
Her feet shuffled before the door finally closed. I sighed and closed my eyes again.
Immediately they snapped back open. I wasn’t alone. I could hear the carpet as someone walked toward the bed. I sat up quickly, wondering if Hannah had more to tell me and not wanting to be rude.
I looked up into the face of William as he came closer, his eyes angry and lips turned into a forced smile.
I groaned, threw myself back onto the mattress, and curled into a ball. I tried to pull the duvet back up but he caught it. It wouldn't budge.
"I'm going back to sleep," I growled at him.
"You've had plenty of time to sleep, but you didn't," he said with a sly smirk. I glared, wanting to scream at him. I would not allow him to control when I slept, or anything else.
"You can't tell me when to get out of bed." My anger was grasping all control of my words again. Not even the fear of humiliation could hold my tongue. "You can't tell me anything, so what the hell do you think you're doing?"
He smirked and pulled the blanket down further. "You didn't even change."
"Get out. I don't owe you an explanation. I don't owe you anything." I yanked on the blanket as hard as I could, trying to pull it from his grasp. It budged an inch and pissed me off more. I wanted to kick him.
"No, but I owe you an apology. I didn't mean to leave you alone outside yesterday, or upset you."
I blinked at him, absorbing his words. He was being sincere but it fueled me.
"What makes you think you have the power to upset me? I'm tired of hearing your apologies. Let me sleep," I yelled through clenched teeth. He released the blanket and I fumbled not to fall over.
He slumped onto the edge of my bed and I seethed. I turned to face him, ready to give him a piece of my mind.
"I did my paperwork in Elizabeth's study." His voice was hushed. He wouldn't meet my eyes. "I pressured you enormously yesterday to talk to me about things you weren't comfortable discussing, and I'm sorry."
What he was saying sunk in. I did reveal to him that Mother could see me from the office window. I had sat on the hill and cried for a long time over him. He watched me.
The embarrassment made me want to hide again. I bolted from the bed. I felt like my mouth was steaming with all the words I wanted to say but couldn't find my voice through the red fury.
"Ruth, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
I spun on him. "It's pretty narcissistic to think I was upset because of you."
His eyes filled with amusement. My fists clenched, ready to strike. "Then what upset you?"
There it was, the voice he would use with a child- patronizing. To him I was a child, throwing a tantrum. Pain slashed through the anger. My heart dropped.
I shook my head. My tensed muscles began to quake as the rage seeped out of me, rapidly replaced with despair.
"I haven't slept, I'm tired, and I want to be alone." His jaw tightened again. He didn't like being pushed out. "I'm going to go take a shower. I will talk to you later." I made my voice commanding, not allowing for any argument. That voice worked on teachers at school and even Father.
Apparently, it didn’t work on William. "Why won't you talk to me about it?"
My impatience swelled. "About what?"
"What made you upset, what makes you run away from me," he stood and inched closer, his expression softening. My heart thudded its warning again. I wanted to back away, but my feet wouldn't move. I could do nothing but lift my chin in defense. "Tell me why you couldn't sleep but could cry for hours yesterday."
He stopped in front of me, so close I had to lift my head to look into his face. There was something in his expression I didn't recognize. His eyes were almost pleading as if he needed an answer about himself, not about me and my woes.
My defenses fluttered away. I almost threw away my caution with them. I wanted to reach out, touch him, and tell him my thoughts.
I controlled myself, knowing I would die the moment I let myself be disgraced by my feelings.
I had no answer for him, but he pressed on with his eyes. He wouldn't leave until I told him something, even though I could no longer find the words. I could do nothing but look away.
I looked in the wrong direction and turned toward the white rose beginning to wilt. I stared at it, still unsure of why he had given it to me.
He waited for too long. He followed my gaze to the slumping bud. I looked up, confused as he jerked away.
He receded further. The torture I couldn't decipher returned to his face.
His eyes met mine. His movements halted. I recognized his silent pleas for understanding.
"William, what's wrong?" I stepped toward him, not as he had done with dominance but in comfort.
I reached. My hand fell to his chest. I felt his strong body for a quick second before pulling away, my palm tingling as if it had been burned.
Heat spread up his neck as his eyes grew wide like a child caught with a cookie. There was a fear of reprimanding in his features.
"I'm sorry," he shook his curls and bent his head, his locks covering his eyes.
"You've already apologized." I wanted to quiet his thoughts and
give him the peace he so obviously needed but all I could grant him space. “I do need to shower before Mother and Father get home.”
He nodded. I expected him to be grateful, but he filled with more gloom. Before I could say anything else he turned from the room.
My mind hummed with too many questions. I glanced at the bed in regret. Even if I had wanted to lie back down to rest, I wouldn't be able to sleep.
I threw myself into showering and making my face. I would look as if nothing was wrong when Mother and Father got home. I slipped into my dress and wondered if I was simply procrastinating seeing William again.
I glanced into the mirror one last time to make sure everything was perfect when I heard the horn of the car.
I tried not to run down the stairs. Mother would be angry if my hair wasn't sleek. As I reached the entryway William appeared from behind the stairs where we kept the library.
"What's going on?"
"Mother and Father are home. They expect me to wait on the stoop for them." I explained hurriedly.
He seemed to be interested in the tradition and followed me out the front door. A few servants waited out front most days Father and Mother left or came home, no more than enough to greet them and help with their luggage.
"They're early," Hannah squealed as she raced past us to stand on the step below and smooth her hair uselessly. She threw William a shy look, obviously insecure of her appearance and worrying about his opinion.
I watched William as we waited for the car to come up the winding hill. He looked around as if it was the most entertaining thing he had ever seen.
"Is this amusing to you?" I asked, trying not to sound haughty.
"Elizabeth has come a long way, is all." He flashed me his grin before turning back and standing as tall as he could, mimicking the gentlemen on the lowest step.
I couldn't help but chuckle as the car stopped. The driver opened the door for Mother and Father and the servants left the porch like a tiny puff of black and white to collect bags or wait for an order.
Mother and Father climbed the steps to where William and I stood. Mother greeted William with a hug and a kiss before patting me on the shoulder and giving me a smile. We followed them into the house as Father announced he was starving.
Truth Page 5