(Much shorter chapter...)
Soft golden light shines through the thin gossamer curtains hiding the glittering landscape from view. I sit up and stretch, rested after a good night's sleep. I throw back the bedcovers and pull my dressing gown over my nightgown, tying it around my waist. I open the door of my bedroom and close it behind me. I pad quietly down the hallway towards the kitchen where I can already smell breakfast being prepared.
Our cook, Eloise, is busy stirring a large pot of something on the stove. Her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and she wears a white apron tied around her large middle. As she bends down to peer into the oven I dip my finger into the pot of melting chocolate and slip past her to hop up onto the large wooden counter cluttered with pots and cutlery.
"Emmalinn, what have I told you about sneaking tastes? If you want to try something, just ask." She says as she pulls a tray of golden scones from the oven.
"But it's more fun that way." She sighs and shakes her head, a smile pulling at the corner of her full lips.
"Cherie, if you're going to be in my kitchen, the least you can do is help."
"Alright. What do you want me to do?" I ask, tying an apron over my clothes and pulling my hair back with a piece of ribbon.
"Cut strawberries into quarters, the oranges in sixths, and the grapefruits in half." I grab a knife and cutting board and set to sticky juice dries on my forearms and hands, staining them slightly. "You're awfully quiet this morning."
"Eloise, did you ever feel…"
"What cherie?"
"Like you thought you knew someone, and then suddenly, they're a complete stranger?"
"Are you speaking of your father? Or someone else?" She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Have you finally found a man?"
"I know men. It's not some big scandal if I talk to one." She laughs.
"There's the Emmalinn I know. Your father was a good man. It's not my place to criticize…"
"But you're going to anyway."
"You know me too well. Your mother's death killed something in him. Combined with the deaths of his heir and your sister… I doubt anyone could fully recover."
"Do you remember my mother?"
"Aye. She always had a kind word for us servants, and was completely devoted when it came to you children. She was a saint. The world lost her much too soon."
"Was she beautiful?"
"Most seemed to think so. But your mama never put much stock in beauty. You look an awful lot like her. Same hair, same nose, same milky skin. You have your father's eyes though. Like sapphires… Speaking of your papa, you ought to go get washed up. We wouldn't want him seeing you like this, now would we?"
"No, definitely not." I stretch up and kiss her cheek quickly. "Thank you, Eloise."
"Anytime, cherie."