Alice sat in front of the fire place poking the coals to keep the fire going. It had turned from summer to winter so fast. She wished it were still summer and not winter. Winter was her least favorite time of the year.
Since her nightmare, Alice had been very alert and on the brink of running away every five minutes. She was terribly afraid someone would find out that she had been in an insane asylum. If someone did find out, she would be no worst off then she had been in England and they could possibly throw her right back in Bethlem.
It wasn’t her fault she was thrown into Bethlem and stated insane. She sighed and poked the coals a little bit harder. Maybe she just needed to stop worrying about the whole thing. She was thousands of miles away from England. There where very few people who knew her in France. She knew Jasper had no idea that she had been in the asylum and the only person who did know was her mother. Her mother was going to be one of the last people to admit that Alice was in Bethlem.
She sighed and sank back on he heals watching the fire roar to life wishing all kinds of horrible things on Charles Manners 4th Duke of Rutland. If only she had known that refusing his marriage would cause her such grief. She shook her head. No one here in the courts of France knew who Charles was. So she was safe. At least she prayed silently that she was safe. She slowly stood up.
Even if someone did know of Charles, she doubted the Duke of Rutland would have mentioned that he threw someone into Bethlem. She slowly rubbed the side of her head. It wasn’t her fault she had visions of what her life would have been like with Charles. She wished she had never told him about the visions. Having visions was bad.
Alice slowly walked over to the window and watched the snow come down in huge flakes, spreading a blanket of white through out the world. For the second time she wondered what her mistress would think of her, if Lady Adelaide knew her past. Would her mistress send her back to Bethlem, or worst yet, would she throw her into an asylum in France? Could anywhere be worst the Bethlem had? She frowned.
Thinking was not a good past time for her these days. She needed to find some sort of hobby. Perhaps, she should take up painting. Lord knew there were plenty of painters and artist in France. Surely she could find someone to teach her.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Posted by Joanna at 4:37 PM