Realisation
She turned to her side and then, after only a few seconds, she turned over again. With a huff she eventually rolled out of bed, running her hands through the dark locks of her hair. The quietness around her frustrated her. Only once a day did a servant come near her room, otherwise they stayed away.
"Since when have I become a ghost?" She asked aloud, frustrated. It had been weeks since Ludwig had removed himself from her presence and, while she found difficulty in admitting it, she was missing something. She refused to believe that it was him she missed, for whatever could she miss him for? He wasn't very interesting. Always blabbing away by matters she couldn't care less about. And he would caress her! His touch, always the kiss on her shoulder before he retired! Unwelcome!
And yet… she felt more alone than she had did with him around. Her shoulder felt so naked in the evenings with no one to kiss it.
Did she really miss him?
No! Absolutely not! He was a simpering idiot! "Nothing but a rich… rich… RICH stupid man!" she called aloud and lashed out at a vase near her. It fell to the floor and broke. For minutes she stared at the broken pieces before, reluctantly, bending down to pick up the pieces. She started, fell back and gasped as blood ran down her finger. She had cut herself.
Tears gathered in her eyes and she leaned against the bed, letting them fall soundlessly.
A soft knocking broke her flow and she looked towards it.
"Yes?" She called.
Without opening the door a voice of one of the maid called "Breakfast is ready, my lady," before her soft steps disappeared out of hearing again. Mary stared at the door. Not even the servants entered her room anymore. She had felt their reluctance to come after Ludwig had moved from her room. Their visit was once a day, typical at breakfast when she wasn't there. If she encountered them in the hallways they'd bend their heads, there would be no smiles at all. She thought of Hill at Longbourn, how smiling she had been and kind.
She rose from her seat on the floor and got dressed, sucking her finger once in a while to prevent the blood from getting on her clothes. A soft fabric was located to roll around her finger and then she slipped down to breakfast.
Ludwig was already there. He was reading his newspaper, not even acknowledging her. She sighed inwardly, briefly wondering where his love and devotion had disappeared to. She felt queasy and alone. She pitied herself, as she did often nowadays.
She picked up a fork, winching a little as her finger pained her. She glanced up at Ludwig, but there was no reaction. Lying down her fork again she settled to looking around her; the breakfast parlour. While intended for breakfast and lunch, as the sun was in the view, it was not plain at all. The walls were richly decorated with portraits of various scenarios. She stared at them silently, looking at them for the first real time. Strange, she mused, for while having lived her for months now, almost a year, she had never really noticed it. Perhaps she had hardly noticed anything.
A servant entered and replaced the pot of tea with a new one, bowing ever so slightly. Ludwig thanked the servant who smiled in return. No smile or gaze was sent her way.
"I cut my finger," Mary said suddenly.
"You should get it bandaged," Ludwig replied and turned the paper in his hands. She stared at him and then at her bandaged finger. She did not reply. When did he get so careless? She wondered.
And yet, the kindness he bestowed upon the servants spoke of otherwise and, with a pang so great that she almost clutched her chest, she asked herself "When did I get so careless?"
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