Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I watch her pour coffee and look at the plate piled high with the sweet, fried dough. I love beignets, but since I’ve been here, my breakfast has been pretty standard. Delicious but not like this. Eggs, bacon, and toast. Fruit. Today, I have a mountain of beignets covered in powdered sugar along with berries and a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice.
“It’s such a beautiful day. I thought you’d like to get some sun and fresh air before Mercedes takes you to be fitted for your dress.”
Mercedes again?
I swing my legs out of the bed, take a moment to let the dizziness pass, then stand. I go to the window, not sure if I’m imagining it. I push the curtain away and touch the glass, look out into the vast garden, the woods beyond, and the light mist gathered in the thicket of trees.
“I don’t understand.” I look at the wood paneling, and sure enough, a piece has been removed. When? He’s uncovered about half the window.
“Come and eat while they’re still piping hot.”
I go to the table and sit down. I let Antonia put two beignets on a small plate in front of me, and I pick one up to eat it. Sugar sticks to my lips and coats my tongue as I break the pastry with my teeth, and for one moment, I just let myself feel that sweetness, taste it. I could use some sweet in my life.
“They’re delicious, aren’t they?” Antonia says.
I realize that moan was me. I nod and take another bite.
Powdered sugar dusts the deep purple negligée. Did he dress me? And when did he bring me back to my room?
I remember then, at least vaguely waking up last night. First, when he tucked me in. Then a few more times when he’d told me to go back to sleep. He’d been sitting there with that notebook on his lap watching me. Did he watch me sleep all night? Did he sleep at all? I don’t remember him getting into the bed with me.
I remember one other thing. I saw Mercedes. Well, maybe that part was a dream because we were in the hallway. Me in Santiago’s arms. Her peering at us from a dark corner.
I realize also then that I’m wearing panties too. He must have cleaned me while I was out. How did I not feel it? What exactly was in that vial he had me drink that knocked me out so thoroughly?
Heat flushes my cheeks at the thought of him cleaning me while I was passed out, and I pick up the juice glass to hide my face.
Does he feel guilty? Is all of this out of guilt for what he did?
No. That makes no sense.
Antonia pours a second glass of juice when I finish the first. I take it and drink half of it down. I’m thirsty.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“When did he do that?” I ask about the window.
“I heard something quite early this morning. Had Marco do it, I think.” She’s smiling warmly.
"Hm.” I eat another bite, and Antonia smiles kindly at me.
“I’ve known Santiago since he was in diapers, you know.” She puts another beignet on my plate. “His father was not an easy man, but his death and perhaps Santiago surviving it when in his mind at least he was meant to die, it changed him. You’re good for him, Ivy. I see it. I feel it.”
“I’m not good for him. He hates me, and I don’t even know why.”
“No, that’s not hate. He has demons, that boy, but inside, he’s good. I know it. And I think if anyone can bring it out, it’ll be you.”
“If I survive,” I mutter under my breath, then think of something. “Why does he have everyone call him master?”
She shakes her head. “That was his father. Made sure we all called them Master even when they were children. Cold as stone, that one. But I won’t speak ill of the dead.”
A knock comes on the door, interrupting us then, and the maid who was here, the younger one who every time I’ve seen her looks like she’s expecting a ghost to jump out at her at any moment stands in the doorway.
“Yes, Jenna?” Antonia asks with a note of irritation in her tone.
“Ma’am.” She gestures to me but is talking to Antonia. “Her brother’s here to see her.”
I get to my feet. “My brother’s here?”
The girl glances nervously at me but directs herself to Antonia. “I didn’t know what to do, so I let him in. He’s waiting downstairs.”
“Oh.”
“The Master is…”
Antonia clears her throat. “Well, get the man some coffee and tell him Ivy will be down in a few minutes. Surely you know how to receive a guest.” She claps her hands for the girl to go, and the younger maid disappears.