Esme’s fury

Esme's heart pounded with anticipation as she wondered if Silas had allowed her to leave. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the maid cleaning up the remnants of last night's altercation. A blush of embarrassment tinted her cheeks as she recalled the ceramic flower vase she had hurled at Silas in a fit of anger.

"Good morning, Irene," she greeted the maid, mustering a tentative smile in an attempt to mask her unease.

"Good morning, Miss Shaw," Irene replied politely, her demeanor calm and composed. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," Esme replied, her mind racing with questions about Silas's whereabouts. "Um, where is Silas? Did he go out jogging?"

"He left early this morning, but not for jogging. Perhaps he went to work," Irene informed her.

"Is that so?" Esme raised her eyebrows in surprise. 

"He seemed to be in a hurry," replied Irene.