Chapter Two.

Over the next few days, the small bump on my forehead began to recede, and I began to feel more and more like myself again. I didn't waste time in looking into small insignificant details, my musings would come to nothing. My head had taken a small hit and mind was likely to play more tricks on me.

I eventually just forgot about looking into things. My routine returned to normal, and I had to focus on just keeping my head down and working. I had a family to feed after all.

One little thing did bother me though. In my room, hung over the back of my door; was my ball gown. I couldn't remember getting it out of the drawer and hanging it up. I hadn't been planning on going anywhere that would require such a dress. Yet, there it was. Hung up like I had some purpose for it.

The other thing that bothered me about the ball gown, why hadn't I sold it? My family desperately needed the money; and for some reason, I still owned it.

I didn't really want to sell it. Part of me selfishly wanted to keep it for the rest of my life, as a reminder of the time I danced with nobility. A time when I wasn't just plain old poor Marion Brown, but when I was a lady. I loved that dress, loved wearing it, loved dancing around in it, loved the memories it brought back. Back to when there was enough money and food to be able to go to a ball.

But, we were no longer in that time where I had money and food, so I decided it would have to go. Maybe next Sunday, if I got some time off, I'd go to the market and sell it. There was no point going now, the market was closed and there would be no one around wanting to buy such an item.

The week went idly by, and I found myself repeating the same routine I usually did. Sewing for hours most days, and then if I still had energy left, I'd go and find Isabelle.

Isabelle no longer needed reading lessons. She was now full proficient in reading, always with her head in a book. I was sure that if we both tallied up the number of books we had read; she would far exceed me. She somehow had manged to get a deal with the travelling salesman, where she would swap the books she had read for new books, and then wait until her visited again to return them for even more new ones. How she had gotten the salesman to agree to it was beyond me, but I learned long ago not to underestimate Isabelle when she sets her mind to something. I had since stopped really taking mechanics lessons from her. Our relationship had developed from the both of us teaching each other, to friendship. I wasn't that good at mechanics anyway, and I probably wasn't going to get much better. Although I could tie a pretty good knot, and understood the basics of levers, cogs and pulleys. Isabelle hadn't minded when I asked her if we could stop the lessons and just be friends.

We now spent most of our time together talking about books and other such things. She had become a very close friend of mine, despite being a few years younger than me.

People called us funny, because we were different. We were girls who could read, and think for ourselves. I think some of the men in Milton were a little scared of us, intimidated. We didn't care. As long as we had each other to talk to, no one bothered us. We didn't care about the things whispered about us, or the looks we sometimes got. But, to be honest; Isabelle attracted looks regardless. Boys turned their heads whenever she walked down the street. She was never bothered by them though; she was never interested. She was far too good for any of them anyway.

And so, the week went by, including Saturday. I still could quite figure out why exactly Saturday had been etched into my mind. I spent the entire day trying to remember what exactly I had forgotten about. Maybe it had left my mind when I hit it.

The day came and went, and I was none the wiser, so I guessed it wasn't something very important.

On the Sunday I awoke and went down to work, again. I needed the money, plain and simple.

About halfway through the day, near noon, a knock came at the workroom door. I opened it to find a young boy stood there with a letter. He held it out to me and I took it from him. He ran off before I had time to say thank you. I closed the door tightly and glanced down to look at the letter.

Marion Brown.

I recognised the handwriting. It was my brother Alexander's hand.

I tore at the sealed edge and pulled out the note as quickly as I could.

Arry.

You've got to come home. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you have to come home.

It's Father.

I'm so sorry to have to tell you like this. You know he hasn't been eating well. It's gotten worse. There's been a sickness going around the village, and we think Father's caught it. I don't think anyone else has, but you should come home, as quickly as possible.

Please come home Arry, we need you. He needs to see you. We don't know if he's going to make it.

We're waiting for you.

Alexander.

I dropped the letter before I had even finished reading it properly.

No.

No, this couldn't be happening.

NO!

I couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

Father.

NO.

I had to get home, right now. I had to leave Milton.

Father couldn't be ill. He just couldn't be. He was my father, he was big and strong and well. He was Joshua Brown. He would not die from this. We would not lose him.

I felt my breathing increase.

We couldn't lose him. We'd already lost our mother, not him too. Not him.

Utter sadness flooded through me.

He was my father. I couldn't lose him. I could remember him reading me bedtime stories when I was small, he carried me around on his shoulders when I got tired, he teased and played with me.

I couldn't be about to lose him.

Why had I left home? Why was I here in Milton and not there?

This wasn't fair. This wasn't right. He might still pull through it, maybe if I just saw him again, he'd be alright. He'd fight, and win.

But he was so thin. He'd been so thin and tired the last time I had seen him. He'd looked years older than he should have done.

I felt the tears stain my cheeks, running down them like a river.

I had to go. I had to leave, right now.

I ran upstairs, forgetting all about the work I was supposed to be doing. My vision was blurred through the tears and I ran into the doorframe at the top of the stairs. A horrible feeling had settled in my gut, one that would not budge.

Home, I had to go home, now.

I made it into my room, and began to pack everything up as quickly as I could. I shoved all my dresses into my worn down old carpet bag, and pushed them down to the bottom.

Sobs were now wracking my chest and I found it hard to breathe. I had to leave, I had to see him.

Father.

I heard the door to my bedroom open slowly, groaning on its hinges, and then someone was crouched behind me, holding me while I wept.

'Marion? What's wrong? What is it?'

I continued to cry. This couldn't be happening, I needed him. He was my father; the only parent I had left in the world. He'd always been there for me, always chased away the nightmares, always loved me.

I held onto Amelia while she embraced me, trying to control my tears and breathing.

'Marion?' She asked.

'He's dying. He's sick.' I managed to get out between the sobs.

'Who is? Who's dying?'

'Father. My brother wrote, and said he's gotten sick.'

Amelia didn't respond, but held onto me tighter. The pain didn't go away; neither did the horrible feeling of dread.

'I have to go home.' I said, once my breathing began to return to normal a little.

Amelia nodded. 'Pack your things. I'll go and find Madam Cartwright.' She said quietly. 'Marion, he's not gone yet, he may still pull through.'

I knew she was trying to cheer me up, but it didn't work. She hadn't seen him, she didn't know how old and thin he looked. How much weaker he had become.

'Will you be alright here? I'm just going to find Madam Cartwright; I'll be back in a few minutes.' Amelia said, releasing me from her embrace a little.

I nodded, unable to speak. She unattached herself from me, and gave me a sad smile, before leaving the room.

I resumed trying to push everything into my carpet bag. My dresses didn't take long to fold up, and I quickly grabbed my ball gown from the back of the door, and carefully placed it inside the bag. I hadn't had chance to go and sell it yet, and I didn't know when I was coming back to Milton, if ever; so I thought I'd better take it with me.

The rest of my belongings didn't take long to pack away. It was only a few pairs of undergarments and some books. I was done within the half hour. My tears were drying and I could begin to think clearly again.

I knelt on the floor and peered under my bed, just to check there was nothing I had left under it. There wasn't anything, and so I turned around to check under the chest of drawers.

A small beam of light reflected off something stuck in the floorboards, and as I turned, that beam of light shone right into my eye. It was only small, just a glint, but it was enough to make me stop and stare at it.

There was a small jewel in the floor.

I stared at it curiously, before bending down to pick it up. It was stuck quite far down, and I had to wriggle it free of the wood.

I pulled it out and found, much to my amazement, that it wasn't just a jewel, but a ring. A small and plain ring, made of bronze, with a small amethyst in the centre. It didn't look expensive, but it looked new and precious.

And there was something about it, something that made me think.

I hadn't seen it before, and yet it looked oddly familiar. I couldn't place it, no matter how hard I thought about it.

How had I lived in this room for nearly two years and not noticed it was there. It was a jewelled ring!

Maybe the person who had lived in the room before me lost it? I thought only Amelia had lived here before I got here, but maybe even before her, there was someone else.

But, this was no seamstress's ring. Although it was plain and simple, there was no way a seamstress would be able to afford this ring, not without saving up for it for a considerable amount of time.

It annoyed me, there was definitely something about it that seemed familiar.

I knew I probably shouldn't but I lifted up my right hand, and slowly slid the ring onto my fourth finger. I wasn't about to tempt fate by placing it on the other hand. It slid on with no difficulty. A perfect fit.

Why would this ring fit my finger, it made no sense! I had certainly never owned it.

I didn't have time to debate it in my mind. I had to get home, get back to my village, get back to Father. I pulled the ring off my finger, and slipped it into the inside of my bag. Maybe if no one claimed it, I could sell it. It might be able to pay for medical treatment for Father.

My room looked sadly bear. Empty. I had lived here for two years, well, almost two years. I'd had one of the greatest adventures of my life so far here, within this building. Living by myself for the first time, choosing my own life, being me. Although the work was fairly boring and monotonous, I had liked it here. The nights Amelia and I had stayed up talking by the fire, the times when Isabelle had sat at that table in the main room; her head over the sheets of paper I had prepared for her, reading out loud. I was going to miss this place. Maybe one day I'd come back, when Father was well and fine again, and I could leave without a guilty conscience.

Footsteps sounded up the rickety old staircase to the apartment. Two sets of footsteps. I waited a moment, making sure everything was in my bag. Then Madam Cartwright appeared at the door to my bedroom. I glanced up to her, her face as still as stone, as it usually was.

'Amelia says you're leaving.' She said.

I nodded. Even though my tears had dried up, my face felt puffy and red, and I still felt terrible.

'I'm sorry to hear about your father.' She said, breaking her ice cold countenance. She came and sat next to me on the bed. 'It's a horrible thing, and massively unfair.' Her arm went around my shoulders, and she rubbed the top of my arms a little.

'I hope he gets better. Here's your wages until the end of the month, it's the least I could do.' She said, offering me a small bag. I'd never known her to be this kind, or understanding.

'And, if you ever want to return to Milton, then my door will always be open. Your position will still be here. Don't worry about rushing back. You only ever get one family.'

I gave her a small smile and whispered. 'Thank you.' I knew I should be more grateful, more thankful for what she was doing, but I couldn't think of anything else but my Father. I just wanted him to be alright, I only wanted this horrible thing to go away.

Madam Cartwright stood up from my bed. 'I wish you well, Marion.' She said, and then left my room. I stood slowly once she had gone, and picked up my bag. Amelia was standing in the main room, near the door.

'Don't go, not just yet.' She said.

I looked at her.

'I have to go. My family needs me.'

'Just one more minute.' Amelia told me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but then I heard more footsteps run up the old staircase. I barely had time to register what was happening before someone barrelled into me, pushing me back a little.

Isabelle's arms wrapped around me, and I held onto her tightly.

'Amelia said you were going!' She cried into my shoulder.

'I have to. My father…' My own voice broke.

'I know, if my father was ill, I'd…' She started, but didn't finish. She didn't need to, I understood.

'I'm going to miss you. You have to come back when he's better.' She told me. 'I'm going to have read so many books by then, I'll need someone to talk to them about.'

'I wouldn't miss it for the world.' I said quietly.

Isabelle let go of me and pulled back so we could see each other.

'Please write to me. I'm really going to miss you.' She said.

I gave her a sad smile.

'I'm going to miss you too. And please remember, don't let anyone tell you to change. You are an incredible, intelligent, amazing young girl, and no matter how many people say that you are funny or weird or strange, stay true to yourself. Do that for me, will you?' I said. I meant it, every word.

She nodded.

'I'm very glad to have met you Marion Brown.'

'And I'm very glad to have met you, Isabelle Greyson.'

She gave me one last quick hug, before stepping to the side and letting me walk down the stairs. I reached the bottom and took one last look around the workroom. It was hard to believe that I might not see it again for a good while at least, if not ever.

I didn't have time to think like that. I opened the old door and stepped outside. Amelia and Isabelle followed me outside, right to the outskirts of Milton, where the path lay that would take me home.

I gave each of them one last hug, and told them I would hopefully see them again soon. I wasn't sure I believed it.

They both tried to smile for me, cheer me up a bit, but it didn't help much.

Even though my mind was distracted with thoughts of Father, there was something else that tugged on my mind.

The two people I had grown closest to in Milton were here, then why did it feel like someone was missing. It had only really been Amelia and Isabelle who I had actually become friends with here. Yet, something felt wrong. I had missed someone. But, I didn't have time to think about it. I just needed to get home first. Just get home, and think about everything else later.

And so, with that, I turned my back on Milton, possibly for the last time and walked off into the forest.