Chapter 53
I filled the days and space with jest and laughter, coaxing Cecilia into soft chuckles that left her cheeks flushed. Every now and then, her gaze flickered toward Millicent, but I swiftly redirected her attention, unwilling to let that woman steal even a moment of my peace.
Millicent sat at the far end of the chamber, stationed at the desk recently brought in for her. The scratch of her quill against parchment was methodical, yet I felt the weight of her gaze upon me, lifting every so often as though she expected I might acknowledge her. I did not.
The door creaked open, and the air shifted.
Issac entered. He bowed first to Millicent and then to me, his eyes warm with a persistent charm. I eyed him warily.
"Good day, Lady Florence, Miss Cecilia," he greeted. "Miss Cecilia, might I have the honor of accompanying you for a walk in the hospital garden?"
Cecilia's fingers gripped the fabric of my sleeve. Instinctively, I pulled her closer. My sharp gaze landed on Issac.
"And what," I inquired coolly, "is the purpose of such a stroll?"
Issac reached into the inner pocket of his coat and withdrew a single sunflower. He extended it toward Cecilia with gentleness.
"I only wish to offer her the pleasure of fresh air, Lady Florence," he replied smoothly. "Nothing more. A walk in the gardens, perhaps a visit to the stables to see the foal born this morning. I hear it is quite the sight."
Cecilia stirred beside me at the mention of the foal, the barest flicker of interest lighting her features. My gaze snapped to Millicent. Then, with practiced ease, she offered me the faintest of smiles.
"Fresh air truly does wonders. And the foal is said to be rather charming," she said.
Cecilia's fingers twitched against my sleeve.
I sighed. "You wish to see it, do you not?"
She hesitated. "A little… but I do not want to go without you."
I chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. "I am hardly fit to stroll about just yet, but you should go. You can tell me every detail upon your return."
"Are you certain, My Lady?"
"Entirely," I affirmed.
Reluctantly, she rose, taking Issac's offered arm with hesitation. The door clicked shut behind them.
Millicent did not move. Neither did I.
I reclined against the pillows, allowing the silence to settle. I did not know where Millicent's gaze lingered, nor did I care. Mine remained fixed on the door. Without Cecilia, the warmth had drained from the air, leaving behind the unbearable weight of Millicent's presence.
My mood soured, irritation festering with each passing moment. Five minutes. Then ten.
The door swung open far too soon.
Cecilia stumbled inside, trembling so violently. My body reacting before my mind could catch up. I pushed myself upright, agony surging through me, but I did not care. I had to reach her.
Millicent was on her feet in an instant, rushing toward me, her hands outstretched to steady me. But the moment her fingers grazed my arm, I turned on her with such fury that she froze mid-step. I ignored the pain wracking my limbs and willed myself forward. Cecilia stood in the center of the room with a pale face.
My heart pounded wildly, fear clawing up my throat. "Cecilia," I called raw with urgency. "What happened?"
Her lips parted, and I prayed for an answer that would ground me, that would make sense of the suffocating dread settling in my chest.
But what she said shattered me.
"I am looking for My Lady… have you seen her?"
The air left my lungs in a choked breath. My vision blurred.
"Cecilia," I whispered, reaching for her, my hands trembling as they cupped her face, desperate to anchor her, to pull her back from wherever they had sent her. "Darling, look at me. I am right here. Did that man hurt you? Tell me."
"I am looking for My Lady," she repeated.
A violent shudder wracked my body as my knees buckled beneath me.
"Do not jest like this," I begged in a broken voice. "I do not like it."
I waited for her to smile, for her lips to curve in that innocent way of hers, to tell me she had won this round of our endless jests. That I had fallen for her trick. That she had bested me. But no smile came. She did not even look at me. Her gaze shifted instead. And she trembled more.
Horror gripped me. My fingers curled against her skin as I followed her line of sight.
She was afraid of Issac.
Something was wrong. Something was so terribly wrong. I knew Cecilia. If fear gripped her heart, she would never show it. She would swallow it whole, bury it beneath her quiet grace. She would hold me, seek the comfort of my embrace, and say nothing. But she was not holding me. They had done something to her.
My gaze locked onto Issac.
Issac.
The name burned through my mind like fire, scorching away reason, leaving behind nothing but raw fury. My hands shook. I reached blindly, my fingers grasping the first solid object within reach. An empty bowl. And without hesitation, I hurled it at him. The sharp crack echoed through the room as the bowl struck his forehead, the sound satisfying yet wholly insufficient in easing the tempest within me.
"You wretched bastard!" I roared. "You dare harm Cecilia? What did you do to her?"
Issac staggered back, his hands raised in defense, his expression aghast. Before he could utter a word, Millicent lunged forward, arms wrapping around my waist in an attempt to restrain me.
"Florence, listen to me."
I threw my head back, slamming it into hers with as much force as my battered body could muster. A sharp gasp escaped her, and the impact sent us both tumbling. The world spun, pain exploded through my skull, but I did not care.
"Get the fuck off me," I hissed, shoving her with trembling limbs. I forced my way free, crawling toward Cecilia with ragged breaths, my entire being consumed by the need to reach her.
She remained standing, unmoving, as if she had not even registered the chaos unfolding around her. My hands grasped hers, pulling her down onto the floor with me. I desperately cupped her face. "What did they do to you? Cecilia, look at me."
"I am looking for My Lady… have you seen her?"
Her voice trembled, her fragile form quivering as she instinctively shrank away from Issac. I reached for her again, cupping her delicate face between my unsteady hands, but she slipped from my grasp. Desperation clawed at my throat, and I placed gentle, frantic pats on her cheeks, as if that alone could rouse her, bring her back to me.
"Darling… I am here. Look at me. Please."
But she did not.
"I am looking for My Lady… have you seen her?" she repeated, and this time, she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away from Issac.
"I am here," I whispered, then louder, more desperate, "I am here. I am your lady. I am right here, Cecilia. Look at me! Please, look at me!"
No response.
"I want to go to My Lady."
Her voice was small and fragile, like a child seeking comfort in the arms of her mother. The weight of those words sent a new kind of agony surging through me, something beyond pain, beyond despair. A choked sob burst forth before I could contain it.
This… this was worse than the lash of a whip, worse than the searing burn of a blade slicing through my skin, worse than the endless torment I had endured in that cell. Worse than Millicent's betrayal.
Guttural screams tore from my chest, raw, unrestrained, carrying with it every ounce of grief that wracked my soul. I pulled Cecilia into my arms, clutching her trembling form. My sobs came in ragged gasps with my screams, drowning in the sheer vastness of the sorrow consuming me. My gaze darted around wildly, searching, desperate for something, anything, that could fix this, that could bring her back to me.
Perhaps I was searching for a miracle. But there was none. There was only this nightmare, this unbearable reality. Cecilia was searching for me, calling for me, longing for me, while I sat right before her, invisible to the one soul I had lived for.
Cecilia, my beloved Cecilia, had forgotten me. And I was truly, utterly alone.