The next morning arrived with a pale, gray light. The sun was hidden behind a thick layer of winter clouds. Inside the grand Thompson estate, the atmosphere was quiet and heavy.
The maids and footmen walked softly, trying not to make any noise. Everyone knew about the terrible events that had happened in the courtyard the night before. They knew Carlos and Ashlyn had been cast out.
On the second floor, the door to Beatrice's large bedroom opened slowly. The old matriarch stepped out into the hallway. She looked much older today. The stress and shame of the previous night had drawn deep lines around her mouth and eyes. She was dressed in a dark, high-necked gown made of heavy wool. It was a dress meant for mourning.
