The next day, Lady Margaret and Mr. Bryans were discussing the price of Grace and I. We huddled near the door, ears pressed tightly against the wood, and listened. I will never forget Grace’s face as they decided on a price, and the clink of coins could be heard. She looked at me with a face full of pain. I wondered why we should be so sad if we were to leave the place that had cause us the most agony. Grace seemed to read my thoughts and told me, “We do not know him, Ileana. There is something sinister about him. Something not very nice.” I knew she was right, but I kept silent and bowed my head. It was, after all, my fault that we were even being sold at all. If I would’ve refused him with more aggression, perhaps at least Grace would’ve been allowed to stay at Lithstone.
I heard Mr. Bryans’ heavy boots treading the floor and I grabbed Grace by the arm and led her away to the library. We sat down on the wooden floorboards between two massive bookshelves and stared at each other. Many thoughts we thought that night. Mixed thoughts, some happy and some sad. I tried to be positive. Perhaps Beckden Park wouldn’t be a bad place, perhaps it would be a wonderful change for us. But then I saw Grace’s face and my thoughts of happiness were few.
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We were to leave first thing in the morning. Early, before the sky even began to see light, I packed my things slowly, tediously, wondering all the while what was to happen to us. I wasn’t really worried about my self, it was Grace I was concerned for. Bryans had told me that I would tell stories to his son for pay. But what was Grace to do? My mind flittered back to the way he licked his lips when he thought of her, and I was afraid. I knew that Bryans liked her. There was nothing I could do to stop that. But if I had to, I would stop him from harming her.
Grace looked at me form across the room. She wore her best dress, a long turquoise with short sleeves trimmed with lace. She wore her crisp white gloves and held her suitcase and bonnet in her hands. I had dressed as if it was just another day. In my brown muslin and short white gloves. There was no reason to be dressed nicely. Grace came toward me and put her delicate hand on my shoulder. She said nothing, but she didn’t need to. We were friends, and would get through this together.
The bell sounded downstairs; I wondered what Margaret could possibly be doing awake at this early hour. I hurried downstairs and opened the door to the small parlor. There she was. The woman who I had been forced to call aunt my whole life. She was restless looking, as if she hadn’t gotten any sleep. Her hair was untamed and wild and her eyes had dark circles around them. She was pale and looked very sickly.
She turned to look at me, a pained expression upon her face. She began to examine me, critically, and I remembered how she hated me.
“Ileana, have a seat.” She said. I choose the seat furthest from her and waited. “Many years we have known each other.” She began, “And for many years I have questioned God.” She stared at me calmly. “I asked Him why He would leave me with some brat of a child, I alone and widowed, without a friend in the world and only a small fortune to make my way through life. I asked Him why me? Why I had to support such a child. Why did I have to be a mother to a girl who was so dark, so depressed, so strange. You were not normal. You were never normal. I was ridiculed by all who knew me. They would ask me why I raised such a child, and why she was so odd. All I could tell them was that you weren't mine. And thank the lord for that."
“What do you mean by all of this?” I asked quickly.
“Let me finish.” She said firmly. “I have sold you to Mr. Monty Bryans, one of the wealthiest men in the country who lives in one of the grandest homes in all of England. He came to me and asked for the price of Grace and yourself. I was grieved, you can imagine, at hearing that Grace must go as well. But it was the only way he would take you off my hands, and so I had to give her up also." Her eyes slowly roved over me, taking in my broken appearance, my face that was pale and my eyes that were heavy with lost sleep. Her lips curved into a disgusted grimace and something inside of me snapped. I realized her incredible cruelty and for some reason, I felt that I did not deserve her harsh criticism. I stood.
"What joy do you find in the suffering of others?" I asked her, my neck and face hot with rage. For a moment she was taken aback, and then her face tightened, and that look of superiority appeared once again in her dark eyes. "You have never loved me. I have done everything you asked, and still you deny me the only thing that I ever wanted in my life."
"And what is that?" Margaret asked, eyes glaring.
"Kindness!" I cried, exasperated. "You have never lived through a day without insulting me, and even on the day of my departure from you, perhaps forever, you cannot survive without delivering my one last blow!" She stared up at me, her eyes beginning to shrink with fear. "Have you no guilt or shame? I am your niece. I am family. I am more deserving of love that that slob of a son you so dote on!" I realized that I was crying, and angrily wiped away my tears.
Margaret showed no sign of shame. I stared at her for a long time before saying, "You are a coward. You hide behind your cruelty and think that no one sees you. But I see you. Is that why you hate me so? Do I threaten you?" I asked her this and she made no reply. Her face simply reflected fear. "You will never forget me. Not a day will pass that you will not think of me, and hurt. You will suffer from your own indifference. I hope you are happy with what you've become." I spat.
I glared at her, and she grew frightened. Without wishing her goodbye, I turned sharply on my heel and walked swiftly away. I never saw her again.
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