Two days. Two days since the Duke's startling announcement, two days that had felt like an eternity. Emmeline sat at her small desk, the rhythmic scratching of quill against parchment a counterpoint to the frantic beating of her heart. The seashell, her mother's only legacy, lay on the desk beside her, a constant reminder of the life she was abandoning.
She'd meticulously planned her departure. Two days to arrange her belongings, to pack the essentials – a few personal trinkets, a small supply of her mother's recipes, and, of course, the seashell. Two days to navigate the treacherous currents of Blackrock Keep, to ensure her silent flight wouldn't be noticed, or, worse, exploited.
Yet, a profound dissatisfaction clung to her like a shroud. Freedom. It wasn't the joyful, triumphant feeling she expected. Instead, it was a cold, unsettling void. Leaving Blackrock felt like severing a limb; a necessary amputation, but one that left a gaping wound. She knew the Duke hadn't truly intended to liberate her, that his 'freedom' was a calculated gesture of some sort, but she was free nonetheless.
Her father. The thought stabbed her with a sharp pang of betrayal. He'd sacrificed her happiness, traded her future for a fleeting glimpse of status, blinded by greed. How could she face him now, knowing she'd left Blackrock because she couldn't bear the humiliation of a marriage that was never meant to be, a marriage orchestrated by his insatiable ambition? Her family was her foundation, and this act of self-preservation felt like a rejection.
But could she remain? The icy glares of the Countess, the Duke's detached indifference, the silent whispers of judgment that followed her everywhere... They were a constant presence, a suffocating weight. She couldn't bear to stay and face the venom of their unspoken disapproval, the subtle yet insidious manipulations of the court, the suffocating feeling of being a pawn in their games.
She was alone in this decision. No one seemed to notice her departure; it was as if she was merely an apparition to them. They didn't want her to be noticed. Elara, her silent confidante, offered a discreet nod of understanding but no words of encouragement. Elara, a loyal servant, remained loyal to the family. The choice was hers, and hers alone.
A cold dread crept into her thoughts. She was a stranger in this world, lacking the connections, the alliances that would cushion her fall. Her mother had warned her against this life, against the gilded cage of societal expectations. She'd yearned for a different existence, a life free from the shackles of expectation. Now, she was leaving behind the only life she'd known. She was alone.
With a shaky breath, Emmeline finalized her arrangements. A carriage would wait outside the east gate at dawn. A meager sum of gold, a portion of what was rightfully hers, would be transferred from her father's coffers. Her departure would be as quiet and swift as a shadow.
As the first rays of dawn painted the sky, Emmeline stood at the edge of the gardens, the cold biting wind whipping around her. The carriage waited, a silent sentinel against the rising sun. Her heart, though heavy, felt strangely lighter than it had in days. The decision was made. She had to leave.
She had to.