Chapter 19
Annabelle shookout her hand as it ached from the typing. Surprisingly, she liked work more than she thought she would. It was fun to be able to use her brain in a way she never thought she would do. Annabelle actually had a purpose for all those years spent learning, which was fun, but it was tiring too. Yawns constantly threatened to reveal themselves at the worst time. Annabelle could not let them out because it would be rude, but they were there all thesame.
Mr. Brentwood was a wonderful man, very nice to work for, but he was utterly dedicated to his profession. He worked late in the night more often than not. Clearly, that was how he had gone on to be so successful, but every so often it left Annabelle worn out and having not seen Floyd for days. He spent all his days outside, looking after the horses, and she spent all her time trapped inside this windowlessroom.
Annabelle saw more of the inside of his office than anywhere else. The large wooden desk which sat in front of his black cushioned chair was ingrained into her brain. Annabelle knew the title of every book that sat on Mr. Brentwood’s bookshelf, she had also memorized the intricate detail of the pattern on his green, glasslamp.
Annabelle knew the office better than her quarters. She was not sure that it was meant to be thatway.
Still, I am not Lord Ashdown’s wife. That thought did not goanywhere.
In a way, now that she and Floyd had stopped in one place for a while, Annabelle was stunned that they had not run into more trouble. She had not expected her father to allow her to leave soeasily.
Maybe he has told people that I am no longer alive, she thought morosely. He would prefer that than to losing the familyreputation.
That meant he would never come looking for her, but it also meant that she was so unimportant to him that he did not care. It gave Annabelle what she wanted, but it also left her with the hollow sensation that she was never reallyloved.
At least mother loved me, I will always have that. Anyway, it is much better now. This is what I have been searchingfor.
“Are you okay, Annabelle?” Violet hissed as she found her alone in Mr. Brentwood’s office. He had gone off for what Annabelle assumed was a brief bathroom break, which meant she could have a little moment to herself too. “How is workgoing?”
She opened her mouth to complain about her aching arm but shut it rapidly as she saw the sweat pouring down Violet’s forehead and the redness to her arms from where she’d been scrubbing the floor so hard. Again, she did not have it the hardest so there was no point inmoaning.
“I am good, thank you for asking,Violet.”
Annabelle smiled warmly at her new friend. Having her around made her feel so grateful. She still had not managed to connect so much with the other staff members, she could not shake off the feeling that she was not ‘one of them’, but with Violet, Annabelle washappy.
“How is yourday?”
"Oh, busy, you know how it is." Violet offered her friend a one-shouldered shrug. “Lots to do as always. It is never as thrilling as the things yousee.”
Annabelle nodded but remained tight-lipped. She did not like to burst Violet's bubble by revealing that most of what she typed was dull and that even with her education she did not understand itall.
“Do you think you shall be finished for the day soon? It would be lovely to see you fordinner.”
Annabelle was still adjusting to the new meals in this house. Being back in such a wonderful establishment, she assumed that the food quality would rise. After all, in the Hathaway home, she was always fed the most wonderful meals. She quickly learned that the same quality was not offered to the staff, they got the colderleftovers.
“I shall try, but I cannot besure.”
They heard footsteps coming through the hallway, Mr. Brentwood was on his way back. Instantly they returned to professional mode as if they did not share a friendship at all. There was a chance that Mr. Brentwood would not mind them sharing a talk, but they did not want to risk upsettinghim.
Mr. Brentwood’s commanding presence entered the room, he filled it with the way he carried himself with his shoulders held high and his arms tucked behind his back. His expression was stern, but Annabelle knew that did not mean he was angry, just that he was focused on something in particular. She had gotten to know his moods well over time, and this was not a badone.
Because Mr. Brentwood worked from home, even when he did not have clients coming in to see him, he wore a stark, black pinstripe suit. His navy blue cravat was tied in a perfect knot, and he always had a few millimeters of his cuff showing. Just enough to see the bejewelled decoration. Annabelle had never seen him in anything other than his smart, black shoes which clipped when connecting withwood.
His greying hair was thinning on the top of his head, but his sideburns dangled down low, showing absolutely no sign of shedding. His wrinkled skin showed off his age, but his warm brown eyes had a youthfulness to them. It was almost as if there was a younger man trapped inside that much olderbody.
Annabelle felt like the man had a lot of life stories that she desperately wanted to hear. Maybe one day the right moment would come along and she could ask him where he hadbeen.
“Have you finished that typing?” he asked gruffly. “I have some filing that I require completed before my meeting tomorrowmorning.”
"I am almost done, Sir," Annabelle answered while shooting Violet a regretful look. Not that she had assumed that dinner would happen, it was sad to have that fact confirmed. "I will get toit."
* * *
Annabelle’s eyesfluttered as she walked down the stairs. She felt exhausted, she had no idea what the time even was, but she did know for certain that she needed some sleep before it all started over again. The next day promised to be just as busy, with just as much todo.
As she spotted Floyd lying in the small, cramped single bed, breathing deeply, she touched her hand to her heart in a lovinggesture.
