Rosalind - Amby Awards 2023 TOP PICK

44- Something of Comfort

When the lord had not returned for dinner, Rosalind found herself alone and troubled in her chamber. The familiar silver tray Agnes always used to bring her meals was to be her only company once the maid returned to her duties.

"I thought something warm and comforting may do you a world of wonders, my lady." Agnes lifted the lid off a silver soup bowl. A gentle rise of steam hovered above.

Leaning towards it, Rosalind breathed in the scent of pumpkin along with a spice she could not name.

"It is sage, my lady," Agnes commented upon noticing Rosalind raise her brows. "It is something I have used before in this sort of soup, but not for quite some time as it has been scarce."

Looking up, Rosalind asked, "Then why use it now?"

Agnes knew good food could be a comfort and by the near-constant look of gloom upon Rosalind's features, the maid believed making her childhood favourite dish would warm the young woman up. "I wanted to make you a soup in the manner which I had been accustomed to when I was younger. Sage was easier to come across back then. I do not know why. It adds a touch of something to a meal." Agnes nodded as she clasped her hands in front of her. "I thought it may cheer you up," she added.

"Cheering up?" With her gaze darting up to the maid, Rosalind snapped, "I do not need cheering up."

Agnes sighed. The young woman who had come in would not be the same young woman walking out. "You are a lady with all meaning of the word. And I do not wish to step out of place but I see the sorrow in your eyes. I know that this place is a cage and you are not a canary to be kept as a pet." Agnes took a step forward and cupped Rosalind's chin. "You do not belong here, you never have and never will." Looking into Rosalind's green eyes, Agnes saw the change. "You came here a young lady, wise and gentle but still head-strong. Inside, I knew you were fierce. What is happening to you now is a metamorphosis. You have become bolder, rougher, reckless. I see your fear melt away and fear is sometimes the only thing holding us back from disaster. The house has made you this way."

"My good maid," Rosalind placed her hand on Agnes' wrist, "perhaps it is not the house."

"The lord then," Agnes whispered.

"No." With a sharp tug, Rosalind pulled her hand away and bolted up. "He is not to blame for any change in me. Lord Caspian is not a –" not a monster. Covering her mouth with her hands, she winced into her palm. Not a monster. Good God, did I almost say that? Do I believe that now? Am I mad?

Surprised by Rosalind's action and mostly by her words Agnes stepped back and shook her head sadly. "You cannot defend someone like the lord."

"Forgive me!" Rosalind cried and grasped Agnes' hands. "I do not know what I am saying." A battle between her heart and her mind had already begun. "I beg of you, good maid, do not think I defend the lord's violent delights."

Agnes gave Rosalind's hands a gentle squeeze. "When you return to the bosom of your family, my dear lady, never, ever look back. No matter what. Push this month to the furthest crevice of your mind and let it not surface again." Releasing the hold, Agnes curtsied and excused herself leaving Rosalind to watch her go.

As Agnes closed the door behind her, she whispered to herself, "What is the thing we shall become when there's nothing left but darkness?"

The soup warmed Rosalind up but it did little to calm her or make her feel any sort of comfort. All she felt was alone and she craved nothing more than companionship. But Rosalind did not want to see or speak to Caspian. Not after the fact that he made no effort to see her tonight. Not after last night. And especially not after feeling the way she did when they stood millimeters apart breathing the drug into each other.

She did not care if Agnes would return for the tray soon and find her gone. She needed to escape her room and her thoughts. Rosalind slipped out of the bedroom and made her way down the hall.

Her palm dragged along the stones yet now every part that had been smoothed out gave her pleasure. The further towards the violin room she walked, the grander her need for company grew.

The image of the shadow-woman loitered in a small, dark corner of her mind. The way it leaned against Caspian, drew inky arms around him and held him close caused Rosalind grief. Though in her drug-infused haze it had been difficult to see the shadow's face, Rosalind knew who the woman was. "Get out of my head," she hissed. Inside her skull, the shadow said no. Though she was in the hall, in her line of vision, Rosalind saw the shadow and Caspian in an embrace. The woman slithered around him and melted into his lap. When their lips touched, Rosalind felt physical pain.

A distraction. Anything. She did not care. Rosalind just wanted to stop feeling that way.

The door loomed before her. Tonight it reminded her of a barrier, one that had been put up to keep a careless wanderer out of potential pandemonium. Hushed voices behind Rosalind tried to discourage her from entering, Stay away. Do not tempt danger. This is not safe. "Shhh," touching her finger to her lips, she hushed the phantom voices. "I do not need your advice." She was annoyed with their worthless warning. Pressing her ear to the door, Rosalind waited until a gentle melody found her. The sound of the violin came like a long lost friend and plucked at her soul. She thought of the elegant way the musician's fingers must be gliding along the strings. It was the request of her neediness which raised her fist to knock upon the door.