"She laid in bed with covers over head, resembling the child that she once was. Life would soon find its way into her life once more, and night fell as the morning came."
The next morning was no better than the night before, as when Julia woke up she was welcomed with no silver tray that had her coffee and breakfast on. The maid that brought it up was nowhere to be found either. Confused, she pulled the thick duvet from on top of her, looking around to see if the maid had put the tray somewhere else, and was annoyed when she couldn't find it anywhere in the room. In her mind, she knew that Waverly had stopped the maid so Julia was forced to come downstairs instead; no doubt so that she could talk to the heir about the mishap that happened last night at the party. She couldn't even think about what happened, much less want to talk about it to her aunts. What would she even say? She was in the library and Daniel Brisby attempted to rape her.
Doubt began to claw at her. He was kissing her and forcing her against the wall, but she didn't know if he would have taken it farther. Maybe, he just wanted that or he would have snapped out of that drunken stupor and realise what he was doing. She wondered what would have happened if she didn't defend herself, her face staring at the reflection in her mirror as she just watched her features. Her lips had died down, and her eyes were no longer red, but she still had that same expression as she did last night. Afraid and undignified. The voice in her head was angry, snapping at her for thinking these foolish thoughts.
If she didn't defend herself, she would have left that situation in a worse state. Her mind was telling her that, but at the same time she doubted the truthness in those words. Besides that, she thought about who she saw instead of Daniel, and her heart tightened when she realised who it was. The same mask that she saw ten years ago, only its wearer was standing over her mother's body, blood splattered on his navy coat and the sword her used to end her life clutched tightly in his worn hands. Last night wasn't the first time that she mistook someone for that killer, but it was the first time they were that close to her. She was face to face with her worst fear.
She couldn't understand why she was having these visions.
Shaking her head free of those thoughts, she instead stood up slowly, rotating her sore shoulder in an attempt to rid herself of the unpleasant feeling. She brought her wrists up into her view, unsurprised to see bruises forming under her delicately pale skin. Lowering them again, she briskly walked over to her drawers, pulling them open to reveal her clothes, skimming through them to pull out a cream coloured shirt. Looking it over, she approved silently and turned her gaze back to within her draw, pulling out matching black jacket and pants. Her aunts must have been really upset with their niece, as they haven't even sent a maid up to take Julia's outfit out and lay it for her when she awoken.
It was strange having to pick out her own outfit. Nonetheless, she seemed to like the independence that came from it, as having maids at your every beck and call got tedious to someone who's had someone breathing over their shoulder all their life. The fact that she was chronically ill didn't help the matters, and just made her aunts more restricting with their rules. Whilst just a child, she wasn't even allowed on her own, and after Esma's death it was either Lydia or a maid that read bedtime stories to Julia, or often she found herself sleeping with her aunt when the nightmares were too much. Being the only child of the three Boyle sisters had their perks, if one would ignore the stifling loneliness from both being an only child and a member of a high status noble family.
Her pyjamas slid off her thin body with ease, being picked up and left on the bed for the maids to clean up, before she just grabbed her shirt. Ignoring the large bruise on her shoulder, she pulled her arms through the sleeves and pulled the shirt over her shoulders, buttoning the beautiful white buttons up to her collarbones, exposing her neck. Next, she grabbed her pants and pulled them up her long legs, tucking her shirt into the pants before fastening the button. Afterwards, she just grabbed the matching jacket and began fastening the buttons up to her chest, looking over at her reflection with a soft smile. She may sound vain to the other nobles and staff, but she did acknowledge that she was beautiful in a way. Her picked clothes complimented her figure, and then she noticed that she wasn't wearing any shoes, looking over at the closet where most of her shoes were, beside the drawers.
Opening them, she stared at the numerous pairs of shoes that she had, something that she enjoyed being a noble. If there was something she loved, it was her pairs of shoes, and her favourite black heels were sitting near the bottom of the closet on the rack, a smile on the heir's face when she picked them up. Slipping them on, she stood slightly higher than she was before, moving back to the mirror as she undid the bun she left in last night. Free, her hair fell down to just past her shoulders, covering her ears and framing her face nicely. Staring at her reflection, she pondered whether she left it down or tie it back up, deciding to keep it down for the special occasion today.
Today was the day that her mother died, and every year she paid respects at her grave along with her aunts. Dread filled her stomach, and yet she was happy to visit her mother's grave at the same time, the amount of emotions that contradicted themselves confusing to the woman. Nevertheless, she just picked up the hairbrush that Esma used to own, the handle decorated with beautiful jewels that whilst beautiful, was very uncomfortable to handle. Looking back up at her reflection, she pulled the brush through her dark locks, humming to herself as she did so. As she was doing this, there was a soft knock on the door, Julia's eyes moving to the door's reflection in the mirror as she called out. "Come in!"
There was a slight wait before the person behind the door decided to obey, opening it to reveal one of the senior maids that helped raise Julia throughout her childhood. Recognizing who it was, Julia continued to brush her hair with a smile, her voice soft when she asked the maid. "What is it, Diana?"
"Your aunts want to have a word with you, Julia. About last night…" she explained, her voice quiet when she spoke the last sentence. A frown quickly replaced Julia's smile, as her suspicions were confirmed true, and she just continued brushing her hair when Diana asked. "Forgive me if you don't want to talk about it, dear, but what exactly happened between you and Lord Brisby?"
Julia didn't reply, but by the way she paused in her activity alerted the maid that the subject was sensitive. The silence in the room quickly turned suffocating, like a thick blanket that fallen over the both of them, and Julia could see that Diana was getting more and more awkward as time passed. Slowly, she placed her hairbrush on the drawers and gestured for her maid to close the door, watching as she obeyed and did so. Waiting for her to turn back around, Julia was silent as Diana walked over to where she was standing, her face distracted when the memories of that incident flooded back. With a solemn face, Julia explained. "Daniel was very… ungentlemanly in his advances to me."
"How do you…?" Diana moved to question, before the question died in her throat and she thought about what Julia was hinting at. Her face slowly began to fall when she finally realized what she was talking about, her eyes staring at Julia's stoic expression when she asked. "Did he do anything to you?"
"Besides kissing and roughing me up? No. That was when I hit him with my aunt's statue." She confessed, swearing that she could feel the weight of the glass statue in her hand.
"I advise that you tell your aunts, my lady." The maid suggested, her hands neatly folded in front of her when she added. "It's best if it was now. They are not in a great mood today, Lady Waverly moreso. I will clean up your room whilst you're gone."
"Thank you, Diana." Julia thanked, moving past the maid when she heard her speak up again. "My condolences for today as well, my lady."
Julia paused, her hand resting on the knob of her door, staring at it with her back to Diana before she just mumbled. "I appreciate that."
With that, she left her bedroom and stood outside in the hallway, closing the door behind her as she just listened to the commotion with her home. The servants noisily passed her, chatting away to each other as they continued their duties, and more could be heard down the hallway and downstairs. None of them were louder than her Aunt Waverly, who's loud and enraged voice could be heard from Serkonos, a shrill exclamation banging against Julia's temples as she listened to her aunt scream. "Does she realize what she has done?!"
Another voice replied, softer and quieter than the grating voice before, the heir recognizing it as Lydia whilst she began walking towards the staircase. "Let's be calm about this, Waverly. I'm sure there's a perfect explanation to last night."
"A perfect explanation?! She's maimed the main candidate for her hand, and embarrassed us in front of all the noble houses!" An eyebrow raised by the heir as she reached the staircase, waiting at the top when she heard Waverly add. "Daniel would have been the perfect match for her! There was chemistry since they were children!"
"Are you serious? The girl hated him, and he was just a cowardice snake who wanted Julia to gloat about having a beautiful wife. He is an exact copy of his disgusting father." Lydia rebuted, the disgust she held to the Brisby family evident in her voice. "Besides, there are plenty of men that want her."
"Not after that show last night! They'll think she's suffering from brain fevers, or worse that she's gone insane! Our reputation is on the line, Lydia, why are you being so calm about it?!"
Julia began walking down the stairs, surprised when she heard her aunt reply. "Because right now, I care for Julia's well being more."
There was a stunned silence. Waverly had nothing to reply to that, and was shown to be confused over what to say when Julia reached the bottom of the stairs, seeing her aunts sitting in the library off to the side of the main hall. Whereas Lydia was sitting comfortable on the couch within the room, Waverly herself was standing in front of the fireplace, the fire having been put out in the morning. The youngest sister looked worried, her fingers falling victim to her teeth as she chewed on them, her face looking at the bookcases to the side of the room, and such didn't notice her niece entering the room until Lydia spotted her. "Good morning, Julia."
Noticing her presence finally, Waverly snapped her head in her niece's direction, the anger written clearly in her face as she closed the distance between them. "What happened last night, Julia?!"
"You saw what happened last night." She shot back, in no mood to be treated like she was in the wrong. "Daniel got too close to me, so I hit him over the head with your statue. Apologies for that, by the way."
"Forget about the statue! What do you mean 'got too close'?! Do you even realise what you've done with our reputation, how the other noble families are probably laughing at our embarrassment of an heir?!"
"You sound paranoid!" Julia pointed out, her eyebrows knitted together in rage.
From her side, she could hear Lydia just scoff. "She always sound paranoid."
"One of us has to think about these things! Daniel was one of the best nobles to marry you to, and you ruined that chance when he bludgeoned him with my priceless statue!" Waverly snapped, clearly enraged by the lack of seriousness her sister and niece are showing to the situation.
"He's a dog!" Julia retorted, finally losing her composure when she added in a harsh whisper. "You want to know why I hit him? Because he decided that he was tired of waiting and tried to force himself on me."
Both of the sisters were stunned. Waverly's rage died down quickly as her face showed nothing but shock, and Lydia herself was unable to hide the concern she felt towards her niece. Neither of them had anything to say, so Julia decided to elaborate further on the matter. "When I looked at his face, I saw him… That mask. It was the one the guy who murdered my mother was wearing. So I panicked, and I struck Daniel."
"You saw him again?" Waverly asked, glancing around the room when she pressed the issue. "Are you sure it was him?"
"I have no doubt over his identity, aunt." Julia confirmed, watching as Waverly moved away from her and returned to pacing in front of the fireplace, her nails once again being chewed on anxiously. Glancing over at her other aunt, she could see that Lydia was deep in thought, her face stoic as her thoughts remained a mystery to the youngest Boyle. Whilst they both thought about what their niece just told them, Julia stood there, watching them both, trying to find a way to get rid of the heavy air.
Thinking about the occasion today, she decided that it was better than nothing and spoke up. "You both know what day it is, don't you?"
"We haven't forgotten." Lydia confirmed, being pulled out of her deep thoughts by the question. "We'll be visiting her grave later on today."
"You should go and eat. The servants will make you breakfast, go on." Waverly dismissed, not even looking at her niece when she waved her off. Julia just sighed quietly, sneaking a glance with Lydia before turning around, leaving the room when she heard Waverly add. "And what happened last night, keep quiet about it. We don't want anyone gossiping about us."
"Yes, aunt." The heir obeyed, continuing her way along the main hall to the dining room, pushing the heavy oak doors open to reveal the magnificent room within. The ceiling was lavished in gold fabric, the light from the lamps shining through and casting the entire room in a lovely glow, a sharp contrast to the dark maroon walls. In the middle of the room sat the large dining table, capable of catering to dozens of people including Julia and her aunts. The surface of the table was covered in a cream coloured cloth, the ends a maroon colour that matched the walls, and candles were standing in the middle and both ends of the table; more decorative than practical given the light from the lamps above and that coming from the open windows, the curtains pulled back to the sides.
Briskly, she walked over to the table when a servant appeared in the room, noticing the noble woman and bowing to her, following her over to her chair at the end of the table before asking her. "What would you like today, my lady?"
"Just the usual." She grumbled, looking down at her hands lying on the soft table cloth. The food that was laid on the table for the guests of the party last night had already been cleared, no doubt thrown into the streets as scraps for the homeless and occasional rat that survived the Rat Plague all those years ago. Instead, it was empty. Sighing again, she rubbed her eyes with her hand, trying to stifle a headache that was coming on, something she hoped eating and having a drink would stop.
Honestly, she wasn't surprised anymore by Waverly's antics, knowing that she valued the reputation of their family rather than her niece's wellbeing. However, thinking about having to keep quiet when Daniel was free to walk, no doubt sitting in his home stewing over the rejection, it made her sick to her stomach. The rage and hate that she felt to the man was bubbling inside her, and she found herself wishing a cruel and unusual death on the noble. Despite being averse to violence, even before her mother's murder, she felt like this was the one exception she was willing to make. Everyone else may have insulted her behind her back, as per to being part of noble class, but what Daniel nearly did to her was unforgivable.
She continued to tear herself up with these thoughts, hardly realising the food that was put in front of her on the silver tray, the smell of her morning coffee wafting up into her nostrils and pulling her out of her thoughts. Looking down at it, she suddenly lost her appetite for her favourite breakfast; poached eggs, seasoned, on toasted bread with meat and jellied eels on a separate plate, the cup of coffee black in colour with only a dash of milk in it. Taking the milk, she kept it under her nose and smelled the liquid, pleased with the aromatic scent. The servant who brought it to her said nothing, instead bowing to her and leaving the heir to carry on with his other duties.
Watching as he left, she took a sip of her drink, enjoying the bitter taste to it, before setting it back down on the tray. Instead, she stared at her breakfast with an unpleasant expression, trying to find the strength to push past her sick feeling and attempt to eat some, picking up with fork and knife. Jabbing the fork into her eggs, she cut them up with a knife and watched the yellow yolk flowing out, absorbing into the toast underneath it. Slowly, she brought it up to her mouth and ate it, testing the taste and texture of her food, before she decided that the food was edible. The cook always knew how to cook her food the way she liked it, and she wondered if the cook that cooked for her as a child was still working here, sure that she heard her aunts talking about replacing him over the dinner table.
Nonetheless, she sat there and enjoyed her breakfast, forcing herself to eat all of it so that she would have the strength for today. With an empty plate, she just sat back with her cup in her hands again, enjoying the heat radiating from her beverage into her cold hands. Over a while, she took a sip after another, thinking about the grave she'll be visiting later on in the day. She hoped that the gardeners laid fresh flowers, and cleaned the headstone like she asked them, before she scolded herself for thinking something that silly. Of course the gardeners would have done what she asked them, as they worked for her and seemed to not want to lose their jobs, but she was worried regardless. She just wanted the grave to be perfect.
Staring down into her cup, she saw that most of the coffee had been drunk, leaving only a small amount at the bottom. She placed it back down on the tray, standing up from her chair and making her way across the dining room, exiting through the oak doors again but instead leaving them open. Standing in the main hall, she pondered on what she would do to pass the time until they left, deciding to avoid the library and instead make her way to the music room, avoiding the smoking room in fear that the smoke staining the curtains and wood would set off her breathing problems again.
The music room was beautiful, the walls the same colour as the dining room with light wood floors, the light coming in from the window at the end of the room and illuminating the whole space. A harpsichord sat in the middle in front of the fireplace, the fire inside long extinguished and left only ashes and burnt logs in the crevice, above hanging a painting made by Anton Sokolov. Of a woman not from the family, Julia never understood why her aunts had it hanging up, and refused to look at it when it started giving her goosebumps. Instead, she moved towards the harpsichord, sitting down on the seat while looking at the ivory keys.
Hovering her fingers over them, she swiped through the mental library of music that she learned over the years from Lydia, finally choosing one that suited her mood. The tune carried through the air was melancholy, her fingers dancing over the keys with grace, painting a picture for those who were blind through the art of music. Her mind went over the song, something that she played constantly throughout her life, and yet it was the only piece she knew that could, without a doubt, be classed as sad.
Her family loved showing her taste for music off; Lydia more than anyone, but she had seen Waverly complimenting her skills to other nobles whilst she played. It was the only time the woman had anything nice to say about her niece. As a child, she would play any tunes that the nobles asked her to play, watching their fake smiles and insults disguised as nice words, and often she found herself feeling like she was a trained animal; performing tricks for the amused looks on the onlookers fat faces. She loathed it. Rather, she prefered to play for her family, and often the servants gave her genuine compliments rather than snide comments on how she wasn't better than some other noble's child.
The couches that sat behind the instrument and off to the side in front of it were there so people could enjoy the music sitting down. Parties spent entertaining people as they lounged on those couches, most drinking heavily and making drunken boasts whilst she continued to play, trying hard to ignore the distractions and carry on playing. As an older woman, she tuned out all distractions that were going on out of that room, and instead watched in awe as her fingers glided over the keys, the tune carrying in the air and filled the whole room. Reaching the end of the song, her movements slowed down, eyes watching her fingers slowing until a complete stop, the tune echoing in the room until it too died out.
Sitting there, she just stared at the keys with an unreadable expression, looking around to find that no one was in the room with her. It was strange. She enjoyed the isolation, and yet yearned for the attention. Confused with herself, she just moved to grab a sheet of music that was lying on top of the instrument, reading over the musical notes written on it in black ink. It was a happier tune, she could tell that much, but it was one of the few she had difficulty in performing. Accepting the challenge silently, she placed it at eye level on the harpsichord and stretched her hands, splaying her fingers out widely before she began playing.
This piece of music was more difficult, definitely, and she found herself often missing a key or playing the wrong pitch, finding herself getting more and more frustrated with her hands, as if it was their fault that she couldn't do this. Suddenly, she just slammed her fist against the keys and an inhuman screech rang through the air, the sound of the door opening hidden by this cacophony. Feeling as if someone was in the room with her, Julia turned her head and felt the surprise die down when she noticed that it was only Lydia. With a smile on her face, she giggled softly and pointed out. "You're having difficulty with that, aren't you?"
"It's frustrating. I can do numerous other pieces of music, but I can't seem to stretch my fingers that far to do these keys." Their heir grumbled, moving up a bit as her aunt sat down next to her. It was almost like she was young again, and first being taught how to play these types of instruments. Slowly, she watched as Lydia glanced at the sheet of music and began to play it, making the whole action seem effortless. The way her fingers glided over the keys were mesmerizing, and her niece couldn't help but feel inferior to the older woman's obvious skill in this trade.
"Often the case with music, you have to let your fingers work the keys, instead of thinking about it." Lydia instructed, noting Julia's confused expression with a humoured smirk. "Don't worry yourself about it. It took me years to master this piece, I'm sure you'll manage it soon enough."
"I enjoy the time we spend together, Aunt Lydia." Julia admitted, watching as she continued to play the music piece. "I feel like now, you're the only one I can really talk to, and share my interests with. Aunt Waverly just treats me like I don't exist, or as a mistake my mother made at worst."
"Waverly has never been the loving type, Julia. It's just how she is. She wouldn't even look Esma in the eyes when she confessed to us that she was pregnant with you, mostly because she wasn't married and the man who got her pregnant wasn't exactly the fittest human to raise you." Lydia brushed off, her tone harsh when she thought about her sister. "Sometimes, I find myself wondering what it would be like if she was Burrow's mistress rather than Esma."
"The man who killed my mother would have killed her instead."
"I know." Lydia's voice dropped in volume, and she sounded very blunt in her wording. "Maybe, we would have been better off, or we could be worse. I guess we'll never really know."
"You know who my father is, why has nobody told me?" Julia asked, curiosity gnawing in the back of her mind.
Lydia was stunned, unable to think of the best way to let the woman down gently, and instead just elected to tell her outright. "There is no point in telling you. He was a dog, and you're better off without him, as was your mother."
The blunt way of telling her struck Julia, her face flinching as if someone had just slapped her with all their might, and then she just accepted the truth with dignity. The two sat in silence, the sound of the harpsichord no longer floating through the air, and only the sound of the busy servants outside could be heard through the door. Julia couldn't even look at her aunt anymore. Maybe she was right, and the younger Boyle was better off not knowing who her father was, but at the same time she had the right to know and decide for herself. It made no difference. It wasn't her father who raised Julia from infancy to who she was today, that was her mother, aunts and the servants.
Stuck in her thoughts, she remained still when Lydia suggested. "How about I teach you how to play the more advance music sheets?"
With a nod, she watched the older woman grab more of the sheet on top of the instrument, and the two began learning the music art throughout the morning, carrying on into the afternoon before they would have to stop the time they were enjoying and go visit the cold reality of life. Esma's grave.
