Roses
Pressed closed against Thomas with his hand warm on hers, Lucille couldn't've been happier as they glided across the tile. Dark blue eyes the same as hers glowed softly in the chandelier's light and a smile tugged at his lips. How handsome her little brother looked. They flowed into the promenade her crimson ball gown bright against his onyx tailed coat as they came together again. She leaned up to kiss him softly before the dream ended leaving her to awaken in her hotel room.
The white-walled room blinded her, it reminded her far too much of a different room far across the ocean. For reassurance she turned to press her lips to the pale flesh of Thomas's throat. It was not years ago, he was right beside her. No one was ever going to take him away again. He was her Thomas. While she was starting her journey to return home today he would be with her again in approximately a month's time. It was not another six years, it was not that long, it was one month. Only one month. She could handle it, she could. Finlay would be waiting for her, she would not be completely alone with the old servant in the house.
Thomas sighed and his arms tightened around her waist. Gently, she reached up to twist a black curl around her finger. In her mind she saw again the livid imprint of Edith's palm that had briefly marred Thomas' cheek. Madness and anger rose in her. No one had laid a hand on Thomas since Father twenty-three years ago and last night was utterly Cushing's fault. Had Cushing not demanded Thomas utterly break Edith's heart Thomas would not have been slapped.
She pulled away from Thomas and walked to the white-painted table. It was not wise to be around Thomas when she was mad. So, she focused on the vase of crimson clay filled with the roses that Mrs. McMichael had given her three weeks ago. White roses, they stood for innocence and purity. They were dying now. As she watched a petal floated slowly to the dirt. Quite willfully, she was neither innocent nor pure. The plan would not succeed if Cushing told his daughter about Thomas' marriage to Upton. Her plan needed fulfillment and Thomas would not take his honour back. Once again it was up to her. Just like Father, it was time Cushing had an accident.
