Chapter 4 / Find My Release
Margot stared mindlessly at the clock, "Half an hour till ten." She muttered while clutching the vial in her hand as she sat there again by the window. "He picked a good time." She thought, "She always goes home at around this hour. I never forget that…" she looked to the covered canvass and lifted the blanket over it to reveal an unfinished work of her angel, "It's the time I could see you." She then looked down at the driveway praying that the woman will come home now. It became at unexplainable habit of hers to always wait for her to come home and before she leaves again at precisely midnight with her waiting, watching and memorizing each minute that passes by.
"Ms. Margot?" A voice disturbed her waiting. A face of an old woman carrying a tray with a glass of water and a saucer filled with pills came inside.
"Yes Nana?" she replied softly but with a hint of irritation when she finally hears the sounds of the gate opening and the one she has been anticipating has finally come and made her way inside the house.
"It's almost 10 o'clock dear and Dr. Wolfiel called." She placed the tray on the coffee table beside Margot and smiled while fixing the wrinkles on her skirt.
"I won't Nana. Don't worry." She waved her hand absentmindedly as she fixed her gaze on the window where the lights were turned on and the figure appeared again.
"Oh dear." sighed Nana, she was always wondering why Margot was there every night sitting by the window and looking out over at the Wilburn Manor. "Margot darling, why do you always watch her like that? I mean, it's not polite and if your mother finds out she may be too angry to let you open the curtains again."
"Nana please stop it." She was already getting irritated. She wanted to fully concentrate on watching the girl's every movement but her maid was there bothering with yet another one of the lectures on how she must stop watching their neighbor. She could only shake her head in disagreement. Why would they want to pry her away from something she loves, no, not something, but someone. She knows that the thought of falling in love entirely just through their 'window meetings' as she would fondly call it is too fast but she knows its enough. She needs no more proof or anymore time with the thought. She can understand it, at least her heart could. Her mind will never admit to it. It was brought up in the shelter of the Cross and the prim and proper ways of growing up that had too much to say about moral thinking. "No one will understand!" she cried stunning the old maid.
"What is?" she asked in wide eyed wonder.
"Nothing." She apologized, "You can leave now." She turned to face the window again without looking to the other woman. "I want to be alone for a while."
"As you wish." Nana gave an acknowledging nod and left the room quietly.
"How was your day?" she whispered while staring out into the window as if waiting for an answer. She always thought of herself contented with just this view but nevertheless, she could never stop asking for more although she knows that this 'more' is farther away than any mountain range.
The sound of the clock awoke her from her delusion. She looked at the noisy time telling thing and saw that it was already 10 o'clock. She removed the cork from the vial and stared at the red liquid, "I wonder what this one does?" she heaved a sigh and placed the rim near her lips. She won't consider it anymore. She learned from her past experiences with doctors and medicine to never question either one of them. Even when she does, nothing will happen anyway. She was always forced to do whatever they say and contain whatever they do. They're both for the good anyway, or so she was taught. She winced a bit then gulped down the entire contents of the vial. "There." She placed it aside, "All done." She turned to the table and was about to reach for the other pills when she noticed from the corner of her eye that the girl in the window fell to the floor. She was startled, "Oh GOD." She was about to call out for help when she felt her body going numb and her vision was starting to blur, "What…What's going on?" she clutched her head and fell to the floor.
"Wake up Ms. Margot." A soft maternal voice called out to her. Her head was still a bit aching. She tried to move around and noticed a change in her body. She felt it stronger.
"Where am I?" the words came out as mere whispers. Light shone through the curtains and into the slits of her eyes, "Who are you?" she asked the silhouette in front of her. She couldn't see a face because it was only outlined by the light. All that was permitted was a hazy form.
"Ms. Margot must you ask me that question every time I wake you up in the early parts of the morning?" the woman smiled, "Why I've been taking care of you for so long you know well enough who I am." She walked over to the curtains and pulled the rope to open them wider. "Now get up. It's time for breakfast and your mother said that you must go down to eat now. You are old enough my dear."
"What are you saying?" she sat up trying to see a clearer image of this woman and she did. She was a middle-aged woman. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun and her clothing was out of the time frame she thought she was in. She looked around and her bed had a four post canopy. The sheets were of satin and the embroidery was magnificent. The furniture weren't metallic anymore. The pills and the medical apparatuses were gone. All that surrounded her were maple center tables, pine bureaus, paintings of beautiful sceneries and a fireplace. The place was not where she remembered she was. The closet door lay open and the dresses that were hanging there resembled what look like Early Victorian fashion. "I can't believe it."
"Can't believe what milady?" the woman asked while pouring her a cup of tea.
"Uhm, your name." she shook herself back to the 'reality' she was in. "I seem to have forgotten your name." she smiled weakly. 'If this woman is referring to me as Miss then she has to be a servant.' She thought. Good thing she was fond of books and read a little something about the Victorian Age and finally she can put it into good use.
"My Lord," The woman pouted in mock anger, "How forgetful can her Miss be?" she walked towards Margot and curtsied, "Madame, I am Sheree. You're handmaid ever since you were born."
"Really?" she was taken aback, "My handmaid?" she shook her head in disbelief but trying hard not to let the other woman notice. She pushed herself up but stopped right before she can get out of bed, "I can push myself. I, I can walk." She whispered in delight, "This is unbelievable."
"Miss Margot are you feeling alright?" Sheree placed a hand on the other's forehead and felt around for a fever, "Well, you seem fine."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I just... Nevermind." She stood and walked towards the door.
"Miss Margot! How unladylike of you!" a screech stopped her from walking out.
"You are not decent." Sheree walked towards the closet and picked out a white dress with a corset. The bodice was V-shaped and the sleeves were less puffed than that of the others, "Please wear some decent clothing. You cannot go walking around in your nightgown."
"Oh, I'm sorry." She apologized and wore the clothes.
"Is everything alright there?" came a knock at the door, "I would just like to remind you that Miss Margot has a luncheon with Lady Elise at Wilburn Manor."
"Yes, yes we remember. I am tidying her up now as we speak." Answered Sheree. "Ooh, that Mistress of that father of yours. Always trying to get you up and ready for everything."
"Well, maybe she's just looking out for your best interest." Margot replied while trying to breath with the corset on.
"Blasphemy Miss Margot, blasphemy." Sheree was surprised with Margot's reply. "Do you forget who Lady Elise is?" she asked while tightening the corset.
"Lady Elise is a…"
"Is a what?" Sheree was caught short. A bead of sweat trailed down her cheek. Her heart raced with emotions of fear and anxiety. She turned her gaze towards the open door and there stood a blonde man with a scar underneath his left eye. The detailing of his clothes were that short of a marquis but too near a duke. His hair was tied back in a neat ponytail and he walked with a swagger towards the two ladies.
"Oh, M-master Raimon, wha-what are you doing here?" Sheree turned to face and bow at him, "The – the lady Margot is still changing."
"Yes, I could see that Sheree." He grinned and tilted his head towards the sweating maid, "But I also see that she's getting her daily supply of gossip from you my dear."
"Whatever are you talking about sire?" her eyes were fidgety. What would Lord Raimon do to her? She was afraid that she would get kicked out of the house because of her own words. She forgot how Lord Raimon and Lady Elise were close enough to hold blood a little bit closer than it's supposed to be between them. Literally, if only she knew the meaning behind the rumors that she herself was spreading through, of course, word of the others that she heard it from. The rumors of the blood pact between them were true enough if words were as concrete as stones.
"Never have you minded Sheree." Raimon shrugged her off like it was nothing and dismissed her. She gave a slight bow and left. "Well Margot..." he turned to the young lady who was staring at him with awe. "Why that face my dear?" he grinned walking towards her and handing her, her blouse.
"R-Raimon?" she repeated, "Th- that's your name?" the name was all too familiar. He looked so proverbial to her, his scar, the eyes, the hair, everything too recognizable, like she has met him before. She can't remember when, where and how really but she knows that face too much too imagine.
"It's rude to stare darling." He tsked fixing the buttons on the back of her blouse, "What are you staring at? Is it my scar?" he laughed.
"N- No, actually, it's nothing." She winced. What was she thinking? She wanted to think this was all just a dream, but it was all too real for words.
"There, now that you're ready." He clapped his hands together, "Let's go meet Elise." He walked on ahead towards the door.
"Who is Elise?" she followed. She has been hearing so much about this Elise she didn't even know who it was.
"Oh you'll find out. You'll find out soon enough."