It was Christmas Day and I sat shivering cold and alone in my father's house. I call it not my own house for that it is not- it is just a place that I'm living in- my heart is my only home. I had been contenting myself with my writings and musings and drawing my name on the frosty window glass, but my mind is now overcome with depressing thoughts of Alexander. He had seemed so perfect- so genuine. Yet he was a fraud- but I must admit- I am just as much a fraud as he was. My mind brooded over this fact, knowing it was indeed true, but my heart soundly rejected it; my heart tried to make me believe that I was an innocent victim- but alas, I did not cry out, so I was as guilty as he. Such a stupid, foolish girl I am! How could I have been such a fool! Believing words from a mouth I barely know- expressing love- wishing me to come forward- how could, how could I have believed him! Such a stupid, stupid fool.
But alas, there is nothing I can do about it now- not a thing.
So I'll sit here in this cold, dark parlor and brood until my soul is as cold as the frosty air. Such a miserable old maid I am!
I rose from my seat on the stuffed couch of -hair and, throwing off the blanket that had been wrapped around my shoulders, I knelt to stir up the slowly dying fire. As the old fairy tales always depict, I sat down on the ground before my, unfortunately, pitiful fire and spread my skirts about me. I wrapped the heavy wool blanket around my shoulders and lap and swirled my lukewarm tea in my orphaned tea cup, watching the weak brown liquid race around the inside of the teacup. Then I stared into the flames and tossed more logs and twigs into the fireplace until it grew into a roaring blaze. And somehow I grew sleepy in front of that warm coziness and fell into a deep sleep.
Until I heard the loud creak of the hall outside the parlor doors, however. Animal terror surged through my veins in an instant and my heart pounded so hard in my chest I felt as if the whole world could hear it. The door handle started to turn and I panicked. I took possession of the heavy iron poker next to the fire, which was now just a tiny flame, and darted, seemingly noiselessly, into the deepest shadows of the room, all the while hiding the fireplace poker in the holds of my skirt. My hair had long fallen out of a poorly dressed coiffure and lay in long pieces about my shoulders and face- this gave the impression that instead of a mad woman outside haunting the grounds, it was I who was mad. In the parlour no less.
The door handle continued to slowly open (turn) and the door noiselessly opened, and to my utter horror, not the mad woman entered, but Alexander. How he had been let into my heavily barred house I would never know, but nevertheless, there he was. He squinted into the darkness and then made straightaway to my writing desk, which I had had moved into the parlor only this morning. He took out a lock-picker's tool and worked long and hard to open it, but alas, he made no progress, for which I was infinitely thankful.
Throughout this whole time my body was as rigid as a board of our white picket fence, and my breath was shallow and fast. My head was becoming dizzy and I feared I would faint dead away and be found out. I might even stab myself with the poker I was holding onto with white-knuckled hands.
He finally gave up and I heard him curse under his breath. He walked over to the dying fire and kicked the dead ashes- or so he thought, but no, they were not dead- they flared up and sent light into every corner of the room. it was then that he noticed the heavy wool blanket I had left on the floor. He stooped and picked it up, instantly feeling the heat that it still held from my body.
I held my breath and prayed as I never had before, but I could not bear to close my eyes. His brow furrowed and he glanced around the room- he looked uncertain and a bit worried, so he hastily left the room.
I heard the floor creak outside the parlor door and then the familiar scraping on the heavy front door as, to my astonishment, he casually and nonchalantly left as if it were his own house and as if it were the middle if the day instead of the dead of night.
Now I understood the wicked rumors spreading throughout the village- of the impropriety of the general's daughter while he was away.
After my terrorized brain had sorted this out- I hated that man who had strung me out all the more- and more vehemently.
You see, as a child I had been deceived.
