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Wren

Dinner was a somber affair for me. Thankfully, Richard was away in New York for some reason or another and wasn't expected back home until the following week. Annette, Celia, and Aunt Matilda were present, or course. In the two months I was absent, Annette had managed to attract a Mr. Kendrick, as a suitor. He had managed to make quite the fortune in the coal business, and could offer a beautiful plantation like home in West Virginia. He seemed nice enough, but I couldn't understand why he would want Annette to be his wife.

I was mainly ignored, something I was thankful for. My whole body ached from the carriage ride home, and my leg was putting me in utter agony. Maria didn't want me to go to dinner, but I didn't want to draw attention to myself before I could help it.

"Well, I believe we will retire to the drawing room," My Aunt smiled, following etiquette.

At only sixteen, and mute, it was rather an awkward experience. I suppose some men my age indulged in a cigar or a glass of wine after dinner, but I had never had the urge to do so. Mr. Kendrick smiled at me, pouring himself a glass of sherry.

"So, I hear you've been away for a few months," Mr. Kendrick politely addressed me.

I sighed, but obliged by taking out my book and scrawling out a reply.

Yes, I have been away for few weeks. I believe a change of scenery was quite helpful.

"Ah, I forgot that you can't speak," Mr. Kendrick gave me a pitying look. "I'm sure it's good to be home."

I preferred the countryside. The manor is a beautiful home, but I believe I was better off where I was.

"Your Aunt is a kind woman, is she not? Taking you in, caring for you, offering you a home, and a family?" Mr. Kendrick frowned. "Gratitude is never misplaced, Master Daily."

I know you mean well, sir, and to you I must seem a spoilt, ill-mannered boy, but I assure you, I am not. I will always be thankful that I was not tossed aside, and yet, there are things I will never forgive. These are not imagined slights, but real sins against any living soul.

"Often our perspectives are a bit clouded or skewed as children or young people," Mr. Kendrick indulgently smiled, condescending to me.

And yet, some of the wisest people are those that are ignored or forgotten.

"I'm sure you will see how much your Aunt has done for you as you grow older," Mr. Kendrick patronized me.

I am not blind, sir. I may be a flawed person, but I understand more than you give me credit for.

I swallowed, crossing the words out before Mr. Kendrick could read them. I had been spoiled for the past two months. Just because Eddie and the others valued what I had to say didn't mean that others did. And I had a "place" in my Aunt's household, one that I should remember. Society saw me as a charity case, and as such, I owed my Aunt everything.

It was harsh, but that was my reality. The people I wanted to leave behind were the ones I had to stay with. The ones most cruel to me were the ones I had to be grateful to. The ones that hurt me, the ones that should be look down on in society, were the ones being held up as an example.

I didn't look at Mr. Kendrick as I took up my nifty crutches. June had worked on them for a few weeks, trying to give me the semblance of freedom. Truly, it was a very nice gift since it allowed me some independence, and they were more reliable than a cane. The wheeled chair was nice, but the stairs were near impossible unless someone lifted us both, and I didn't like bothering people.

I quickly hobbled to the drawing room. I'd turn the music for Annette, then make an excuse and retire to my chambers for the evening. Maria looked concerned as I briefly passed her in the corridor.

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