All is Fair in Love and War

7

When we arrived at my family's house the sun was nearing its peak in the sky. I couldn't shake the feeling of dread no matter how much I joked with Connor; my smile felt too forced; my laughter too fake. He noticed this - of course he did, he noticed everything - but kept quiet about it. I was grateful - I didn't want his pity.

As I dismounted from my horse and handed him the reins, I said, "You had best leave before my parents see you. They are suspicious enough without seeing me with you."

He looked like he wanted to say something, but before his words could escape he snapped his mouth shut and nodded.

I patted his leg (he tensed as I did so) and hitched my skirts up my shins to better navigate the banks of snow. "I will see you again. Take care of yourself."

"Good luck," he said quietly.

As soon as I knocked on the door, twisting my hands through my skirt, it swung open to reveal a flustered-looking Lydia. Her hair flew out of its loose bun atop her head, and her eyes were gleaming like blue fire. "And what were you doing last night?"

"I can explain–"

"We allowed you to go out with your friend. We trusted you to return home, and you didn't."

"You don't know what happened there," I said, clenching my fists into my skirt. "You wouldn't understand."

"Thomas returned home early. Why didn't you?" She leaned against the door, almost as though blocking my entry. It only reminded me that I was still very much a stranger to this family, still a newcomer, an intruder. Would I ever truly be welcome?

I took a deep breath. "I met my friend there. He's nice."

"And you just left Thomas in the middle of Boston?" She gave a harsh laugh. "Some friend you are."

I could feel that burning in my chest, that prickling in my hands as my heart roared in my ears. "And what of your mothering skills? Or shall we just forget the fact that you abandoned me."

"Do you think I didn't regret it?" she hissed. "That I didn't think of you every day? If I could undo that part of my tapestry, I would."

"Then why did you?"

"This isn't about me," Lydia snapped. "This is about you and your blatant disregard for your family. Do you not think we worried? That we care? Because let me remind you, Cassandra, that there are others in your life. Do you think us fools?"

"No," I snapped. "I just think you were selfish to dump your own daughter and run away to America. What kind of mother does that?"

Honestly, I expected her to slap me. I expected her to shout and scream and fight. It would have been better than what she did: she closed her mouth, guard raised, and said quietly, "You can stay out here until you cool down. Don't even think to come inside until then." And then, in silence, she turned her back on me and closed the door.

I had every intention of staying out there at first. How long would it take me to walk back to the manor? Likely too long, and the longer I stayed out here, the colder I became. But my pride flinched every time I thought of opening that door, of taking the walk of shame up those stairs to my room, so I crossed around the house and scaled the wall by my room, using one hand to haul the window open.

Meredith was sitting on my bed when I crawled through the window. When she heard me, she whirled around with excitement, opening her mouth to cry my name until I held a finger to my lips to silence her. She nodded obediently and copied my action, sitting still on my bed once more while I shook the snow from my clothes.