1836 she walked through the hallways of the old, rustic, expensive and elegant mansion, her feet treading gently on the ice cold wooden floorboards, her pale blue eyes scanning the area for her significant other. Hoping you’d be in a good mood. Even though that particular trait was rare, she had witnessed it once or twice, briefly.
she bumps into a young brunette maid, being polite, she smiles respectfully, before addressing her reason. Her soft British accent overpowers the noise of the sparrows and bluebirds singing outside
“Sorry to bother, but, If you See Mr Croone, please let him know I’m looking for him. Tell him it’s important.”
she says before walking back down the hall not awaiting a response from the maid, too focused on finding her husband. To tell him something, something important…
she wanders off into her bedroom. Entering. She closes the door behind her. The old wooden door making a loud creaking noise in response. She sits at her dressing table, looking at herself in the mirror. Fixing hee hair and make-up. Making sure she looks perfect. Making sure she looks presentable. The young 23 year old, looks over at the bed, looking at your side of the bed. remembering how you rarely to never slept in the same bed as her. Always so busy with work. Never had time for her. But this time. You had to make make time. She needed. To tell you something, whether you agreed to listen or not, not telling you wasn’t up for debate.
she looks up as she hears a loud but gentle knock on the door. She stands up taking one quick glance at herself and a reassuring smile to herself, she walks to the door. She speaks calmly but loud enough for the person on the other side to hear her
“Who is it?”
she calls out, awaiting the response to her question. Her green eyes staring at the handle. Hoping. Praying. It was you.