Clotilde assigns me to wash the linens the next day, unbeknownst to my affair with Thomas. In secret, I'm elated that she gave me a task which allows me to be in private. It means I can think through the mistake I made with him.

I slept with Evelyn's killer. I'm not sure if I should call him that with what I know about him.

I believe that the shot he took was in accident, but how can I move passed the fact that she's dead because of him?

It's certainly an affair, despite me betraying no one on the side. Well, maybe Cato, even though I said that there would be nothing between us but professionalism. Cato keeps telling me that there's nothing between him and Gemma, but the charade always appears too real.

Until he spilled soup on himself to get out of that unbearable dinner setting.

I let myself laugh about it now.

"Maureen?" Clotilde emerges from behind the clothes line. "May I speak with you?"

The old woman steps closer to me, her ancient eyes appearing so full of wisdom and life. It'd be hard to say no to her.

"Of course."

"Where were you last night?"

Oh bloody hell.

"Georgia reminded me to check in on the servants who were serving at the engagement party, and I wasn't able to get a report from you."

I swallow, keeping my eyes on hers as an attempt to stay strong.

"I was there, and maybe I just didn't see you—"

She holds up her hand to stop me, then settles her palm on her shoulder. She drops her voice to a whisper. "I know you're lying. I saw you with the man in the kitchen. His name is Thomas, I believe?"

Tears sting my eyes. She can't know of him. If she does, she'll report it to Cato, and Cato won't be impressed.

"Master Leveque warned me that he might try to sneak inside last evening to see you. Cato's... quite protective of you, and I can tell he's afraid of losing something he doesn't yet have."

She begins guiding me through the gardens. The daffodils have long died for the season and new flowers come into bloom. I miss the golden flowers, mostly because they remind me of Thomas. 'Daffodil' I hear his voice whisper in my ear as the memories of our affair crash onto me.

"I've had my fair share of whirlwind romances, Maureen, but I know Master Leveque is quite fond of you. So is this other man, Thomas. My duty is to the estate, but it is also to protect you. Do you understand?"

Yes, but no, but I do, and I don't. My chest tightens and my heartbeat accelerates as fear whips through me.

"I don't know what to do," I breathe.

That's when the salty tears start falling. I wipe a fist against my cheek to stop them, but the waterworks keep coming like a broken tap.

"Thomas is so broken, and I thought maybe he would change his actions. I could fix him, couldn't I?" I sniffle. Well, more like sniff back the wad of snot dripping from my nose. "I was with him for months, and I loved him. I love him. And Cato's been nothing but sweet to me, yet such a tease and I—"

"Maureen," she pulls a tissue from the pockets within her dress. This woman really is a miracle. "May I be honest with you?"

I nod as I blow my nose messily into the cloth.

"I think you need some space."

"What?" Leaving this place would put me on the streets, which would leave me with nothing. "I can't leave here with no place to go. My only option is the streets."

"I never said you were going to leave," Clotilde chuckles. "I just think that you need time to figure yourself out, find who you truly are."

"I know who I am," I say defiantly.

"I do too, but that's not who I see."

Then who does she see?

She continues. "You view yourself as a servant, but I know that everyone who I supervise here at the estate is always so much more."

But I don't know how. I am not more than what I appear to be. I know I deserve better, yet the city denies it. They take one look at me and spit at my feet. I'm nothing to them. Nothing to anyone. Except Cato. Except Thomas.

"Take some time to think over things," Clotilde winks at me. "And if any of those boys give you hell, you can talk to me."

She begins to walk away from me, leaving my thoughts hanging at the edge of a cliff.

"Clotilde?" I call out.

She stops, her eyes finding her way over her old hunched shoulders.

"You're not going to tell Cato about my, um, visit with Thomas, are you?"

Her thin lips curve up into wrinkled smile lines. "I already give that man a hard enough time. The last thing I need to tell him is about your past escapades."

I try to let Clotilde's words sink into my mind. She tells me to figure out myself, but I've never felt so lost from her advice. I am just a servant. And I always will be. I will always be bound to someone else, a greater force. I wake up to stand on my two feet, and that's enough.

It's all I've known.

The moment I slip and fall, is the day my waking nightmare begins.

At the end of the day, I retire to my bedroom, wanting nothing to do with the world around me. Knowing Cato sleeps in the room beside me is enough to give me a headache. Knowing that Gemma also slept in that same room last night nauseates me.

Then I recall everything with Thomas. The emotion. The physicality. It felt good to be with him. Too good, in fact.

I have to move on. I've closed that chapter.

A knocking on my bedroom door startles me from my daydreaming. I get up from the bed, forcing myself to wander over to the door. If Cato stands on the other side, ready to seduce me while touching himself shirtless, then I know I'll burst into tears. Last night still feels too fresh to think about Cato in such a way.

But when I open the door, I stare into Annie's warm brown eyes.

"You think you could hide from me all day, huh?" she laughs. When I fail to return the same joy, her expression falters. "Did I do something wrong?"

I sigh. "Is there a reason you came here?"

"A certain someone wanted me to check up on you," she explains. "Clotilde," she then clarifies before I get any wrong ideas that Cato sent her.

How thoughtful. The old woman sent Annie in as her pawn.

Annie butts past me into the room, and her jaw drops to the floor. "Bloody hell, Maureen! Look at the size of this damn room!"

I blush. "Cato overdid himself, a bit."

"A bit? You sleep next door to that hot piece of ass."

Her blunt comment about him makes me choke back a burst of laughter. "I never asked to be the favourite one again."

"But you always are," she grins, then springs onto my bed. She bounces on the mattress as she lands. "So comfy," she gushes into the pillow.

I lay down beside her. "It's like sleeping on a cloud."

"What do I have to do to convince Cato to let me sleep on a bed like this?"

I blush, not wanting to answer the question. Instead, I reroute my attention over to her brown eyes as she lifts her head from the pillow. She smiles, one so full of an authentic fondness.

We lay on our sides next to each other. Annie smirks before she begins to speak. "Clotilde may of hinted at you having some trouble with men?"

The heat in my cheeks deepen. "She told you that?"

"Is it because of Cato? Or is it that other guy? Timothy?"

"Thomas," I correct with a sharp huff. "It's about... both."

"Damn."

Annie already knows too much, and Clotilde certainly isn't helping by keeping it a secret. She must've assumed that Annie knew all about my man troubles since we're so close. Well, Annie does know, but not the full extent.

"I told you things were over with Thomas, yeah?" I mutter.

She nods her head.

"I slept with him last night."

I expect to see shock written on her face, but instead, there's nothing. No hints of emotion striking Annie's precious round face.

"Was it good?" she finally asks.

"I had an affair with the guy, and this is what you ask me?" I giggle.

"How big is he down there?

"Annie, it doesn't matter any more. We parted ways."

"You said that before, and look at what happened," she shrugs and gives me a playful wink. "But I promise we'll stop talking about him."

I sigh in relief. "Thank you."

"So how many times has Cato snuck in here?"

Cato seems to become a topic that I find more comfort in. The thought of him and I seems so familiar, despite the looming affair with Thomas hanging over my head. With Annie there, I confess every detail about the night Cato snuck in here just weeks ago, everything from his word choice, visible abs, and adventurous hands. She laughed at this, and wanted to know how on earth I managed to stay composed through the entire interaction.

This led to Annie confessing that her and Calvin, the servant boy, have been sneaking around. She warned me to 'not go in the kitchen pantry', especially not in the evening hours. That space seems to be the only location where the two can find privacy.

I then proceeded to give her suggestions of private locations where food wasn't being stored.

If only Georgia knew.

Our conversations (and the power of the plush cot beneath us) eventually lull us to sleep, and in those fleeting moments of consciousness, I find myself thankful for the girl next to me. All these months of me pining over two men, and she's been there through thick and thin. Every secret, she knows. Every mistake, she's aware of.

I'll never be more grateful to have a close friend like her.

-----

I hate this chapter (I literally finished writing it and just plopped it into here), but I loved writing that cute moment of friendship between Maureen and Annie.

Anyways, thanks for reading Fallen this far!

vote & comment & share & eat your vegetables.