I sat at the window sill, nearly pressed against the cold glass panes, allowing my eyes to wander lazily over the gray landscape below. The roads meandered over the gray winter hills and out of sight, as if something was hidding just beyond their crests.
I did not feel like my own self. As of late, I haven't felt like the person I once knew as Rose Grey, or, rather, the life that that girl had lived didn't seem quite familiar. So much in it seemed missing, or was shifitng in some certain way.
Today in particular I felt different, more different then I ever had, I suppose. Mrs. Horwell had made sure I had groomed myself to perfection, each curl set in its proper place, not a wrinkle in my finest dress. When I looked to myself in the mirror, I was someone I did not recognize for the slightest of moments--I had only been prepared so on such rare occasions. Mrs. Horwell was beant on my setting a fantastic first impression.
Why should I? Why should I care, and why should it matter? Mr. Walter E. Drake was to possession of my house and all in it, excluding those items bestowed upon me by my mother's dowry and the money put under my name. He was to take all that was left of my former life and childhood, to take the place of my father as master of Cromwell. I would be sent away to London, where I would remain until I would attract a husband with the fine dowry set to my name as Mrs. Horwell told me.
I swallowed and gently pushed a stray hair behind my ear. My head itched like some strange insects were crawling over it...insects in the form of irritating pins holding my hair in its proper position. How I had to restrain from tear them all out so my hair hung loose. Daydreaming of the independence to scratch at my head only made resisting harder.
My eye caught movement on the horizon, making me forget about the petty little annoyances occupying my mind.
He is here.