15

Normal, plain, average. The words that used to define her not a few weeks ago felt foreign. How quickly does time pass? Just yesterday she was with her family, eating and laughing, going out in the village to assist the physician, helping out anywhere she could. Now, she was stuck in the manor with people who won't show their faces and things so unreal that she couldn't even think of them in her wildest dreams.

Izabelle had always thought, how would it be to be like the protagonist of a certain book? Fierce and courageous. Fighting for what's right against demons of the night. Now she felt like in a plot line but she couldn't gather the courage to be like those lead characters she admired. How could someone not lose their mind in the dark? How can they not feel depressed in this solitude? The only person she talked to was a kid who vanished and the man saying he would marry her can't meet her without something going terribly wrong.

Izabelle felt around the water. It was getting colder by the minute like the rest of the house. Winter was here and the daily trouble won't let her sit beside a warm fire and enjoy the snow with a mug of hot tea. Just the day before her room had dead rats. The night before that the windows if the house were open letting in the light of the beautiful moon which enraged the Lord and had him breaking things. And of course a week before the incident with the soup.

With no sign of Toby and no other friendly maid she was left alone with only her book and the magic mirror. Every time she thought of a person something dreaded would be shown. Her father was getting sicker by the minute and her eldest brother had engrossed himself in fighting. Her mother was left to take care of her father and worrying about Giselle's marriage. In everything, her other brother, Ash, had drowned himself in paperwork. Izabelle felt more terrible than she should have because she knew she was the cause of their depression.

"What are you thinking?" An unexpected voice made Izabelle jump. "Lord Willington, this is inappropriate. You can not just walk in on a bathing lady! Have the decency to knock and let the maid in to prepare the gown." The lights in the bath room were dim. A fire was lit to keep the bath warm and Izabelle could only think of letting the flame engulf her as she faced the embarrassing situation. She went neck deep into the rose petal filled water.

"I was never known for my decency Miss Edwards. Before you get enraged anymore, let me tell you that Becka came and knocked, she even tried to get you attention but you wouldn't respond. She thought you may have gone into a shock of some sort. Believe me when I say I know she is not lying for even I tried to knock and have you listen for the past few minutes. For a moment even I thought you dead. " The Lord replied in his raspy voice that made her cringe. Was she really so lost in her own thoughts? Since when did Lord Willington start to care?

"Now that you have proven me alive my Lord, would you have the courtesy to leave? " Izabelle said to him politely but both of them knew it was an order. Izabelle saw as he didn't hesitate and held on to his cloak and turned around. From the dim light she saw as his tall figure navigated to the end of the huge room without a problem as if he had each step memorized.

Living in the manor she had often wondered what the lord looked like beneath the cloak he used to hide himself. It was like a physical barrier between him and the world and Izabelle understood it as she herself used her work and books to hide away. Sadly how the Lord did it was way too unhealthy for his mental state but seeing the crazy things that have happened she didn't doubt that there was a reason for the things that were going around.

"Miss Edwards?" Izabelle jumped up startled not having expected the lord to stop at the and speak. She had gotten lost in thoughts in barely a second and she pledged to herself not to do that again.

"Yes, Lord Willington?"

"I will be sending Becka in and she will help you to navigate to Mrs Weatherly's work place."

"Mrs. Weatherly?" Izabelle questioned. In the few weeks she had been here she had never heard of any Mrs. Weatherly.

"Yes, the seamstress. You want a nice wedding gown don't you?" And just when she thought he was becoming caring. Izabelle sighed.

"Yes, of course." Izabelle muttered not liking the idea of dressing up for her forced wedding at all.

"What was that Miss Edwards?" Lord Willington asked and Belle felt like he did that on purpose even after having heard the disdain in her voice.

"Nothing. I just said yes, Lord Willington. "

"That was what I had thought Miss. As I am feeling courteous, I will let you write to your family. Have the letter handed to Elber and he will see to it that they are delivered." Izabelle could not believe her ears. Write? To her family? She could not wait to be out ans start with it already. How would they react? Would it help them improve?

"You are not jesting. Are you? That is a terrible attempt at a jest." The dark lord shook his head and stepped out of the room. Belle's head ran wild and she called for Becka thinking of a million words she could write down.

Love,

Princess_arielanne