Lady Mary's eyes fluttered open. She stared at the decorative ceiling a moment, studying the intricate designs of leaping horses and their twisting manes engraved in the gilded surface, her head tilting to the left slightly. She then pulled back the heavy covers and placed her bare feet on the carpeted floor of her bedroom. She glided slowly, sleepily across the floor, one hand entwined in her dark hair, rubbing the back of her head. The hem of her long, white dressing gown touching the floor, she made her way over to the tapestry ribbon on her wall and tugged it twice slowly. She turned and went back to the bed, sitting on the corner, hand still on her head, and let her head fall slightly, into the crook of her elbow. Like this she stayed until the faint knock on the door was followed by Anna's entrance. The sweet maid closed the door behind her, giving Mary a small smile in greeting.
"Good morning, Milady." She said gently.
"Hello, Anna." She said, looking up.
Mary looked straight ahead as Anna went to her closet to take out a hanger and, arms full, carry her bundle over to lay over the wooden chair at the vanity by the wall. Mary rose and went over to her, and Anna came behind her to unbutton the back of her nightdress. She stepped out of it and turned to the mirror as Anna reached over from the chair and held out a few article of underclothes, which Lady Mary put on. Anna gathered up the nightdress that was left on the floor and hung it on the side of her floor-length mirror, which Mary now came to stand before.
She returned and began to lace up the back of Lady Mary's corset. Mary stood with her hands on her hips, bracing herself, and stared at her reflection intently, a great many things on her mind. She thought of Matthew and of Lavinia, and how her hesitation so many years ago had caused her so much unhappiness. But because of how much she loved him, how much she continued to, she had to keep her feelings hidden. It hurt her even more to stand by and watch them, watch him, happy, and without her, but she knew it was better this way. Matthew could never love her again. This is how it would have to be.
She thought of poor Sybil and Branson as well, and of Sir Richard, and of all the other things she had to face that day.
She remembered how she had once described to Matthew her discontent with her life—a life caught in a waiting room as she'd called it—and though of how much it demanded of her nonetheless.
Anna finished the last of the laces with a sharp couple of tugs and stepped slightly back as Mary stood there, hands still on her hips, eyes distant.
Then she stepped into the simple olive colored skirt held out to her, which Anna fastened over the crisp white top, creating a look that was all together complete and efficient, but when and Anna tied up the back, then smoothed out the lovely satin fabric, she could see that anything on Lady Mary became a work of art.
She smiled, thinking to herself that Lady Mary could probably come to dinner in her own maid's uniform and not look half as scandalous the time that Sybil came down in her blue bloomer-dress. The way that Mary carried herself was extraordinary and Anna admired her very much for it. Seeing her so composed amid the storm of conflicts within her life helped she herself deal with the turmoil within her own surrounding her relationship with Mr. Bates.
Watching her take a seat at her lovely vanity table, Anna then twisted Mary's long hair into the updo that she was so fond of. Upon finishing, Anna hesitated.
She watched in the multi-faceted mirror as Mary closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath.
The housemaid looked on sadly for a moment, and then said, in a soft yet reassuring voice, "If anyone can get through all of this, I'm sure it's you, Milady." Then placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, turned and went out of the room. Mary raised her eyes to the mirror. She straightened her back, set her shoulders, and a serene expression replaced the slight pain that had shown on her brow since she had woken. She applied a dab of perfume to both of her wrists, rubbed them expertly together, then brought them both to her neck. Giving herself one last look in the mirror, she rose and crossed her room to her door with purpose.
"Thank you, Anna." She said, in almost a whisper, and left her room, ready; ready to face everything.