Lady Isabel was walking back to her room with a wild mix of emotions. On the one hand she was jealous and confused. Jealous at the though that Madam Tracy would always have a deeper connection... a deeper history with Mr. Junior. She was also jealous that Mr. Junior seemed to have no heart, but only a dark soul that slipped between the fingers of anything that wanted to come within touching distance, like he was always there, but not really. She was also confused, confused because she never thought she would find herself in such a position, a position that stood on the a dangerous ledge, a border between the rational and irrational, it was like the life she knew had become lost, now an ancient dream that she looked back on, entangled in a strange void that suffocated her every moment she continued to breathe.
On the other hand she felt a growing agitation, a growing defiance towards her earlier expectations that she naively possessed. The road she had had to take to get to where she stood was full of bumpy, unforgiving, unwanted disappointments and pain.
These feelings had been consuming her ever since she had begun to work in the house, which was only a year ago. But she pushed them to the back of her mind as she became enchanted by last night's events and she walked into her bedroom and lay down on the soft bed.
The dominance that Mr. Junior used had left an imprint on her, and she looked over to a small set of draws where a mirror was standing, making her feel even more reflective. Once she had lent over and grabbed it, she looked at the reflection staring back. Her eyes were big, green, and wide. Her skin was smooth and her face round, her ginger hair was bright and long, falling lower than her breasts; and her eyebrows were perfectly sized, not too thick nor too thin. She never pampered herself with make up, instead, her beauty shone in every room that she walked into, but her unfortunate circumstances; growing up at the lowest level of society, her mother falling ill, which demanded Lady Isabel to fill her place, along with her prospects of love and marriage caving in, made her believe she was bound to a long struggle that, for the foreseeable future, wasn't going to cease.
She put the mirror back and sat up before scanning the room. Opposite the door she looked at a small table and chair standing next to an old wardrobe. She got off the bed with a sudden urge, and sitting down with the thick, small book she used for releasing her caged up thoughts, she grabbed the quill pen from the inkwell and began to write:
I admit it. I've been sneaking around this maze looking into the interests of Mr. Junior. He's of the most interesting cloth, I believe, that a man could be woven in. The maids don't ever speak of matters, past or present, so I'm left having to dig around myself. I want to know this man. Though, he's incredibly difficult to get close to. The only time being when he sucks you into his irresistible lust. But lust is all that it is. I've here for a year and I've barely spoken to him. He doesn't stick around anywhere long, except his study and that underground basement, and both are locked recently, something he doesn't usually do. Before I was too afraid to sneak around him as I didn't know what to expect. But now, I feel like I'm catching on. But how can that be? He doesn't give anything away. All he has given away is lust. Only lust. Along with a lot of mess for us to clean up. But that lust feels so good...
Just then, Lady Isabel was frightened by the rattle of her bedroom door knob. A loud bang followed and she quickly hid the book under her mattress, hoping it was just one of the maids coming to get her for lunch. When she opened it Madam Tracy was standing in a beautiful white dress that had elegant dragon patterns on, she looked her usual self, a surprise given that Lady Isabel had disturbed her elevation not long ago. But the two stood head on giving each other knowing looks.