An Innocent Affair

XXIX

"When two souls are one, they hear each other, even in silence." Matshona Dhliwayo

----

XXIX.

Cressie's heartbeat rung in her ears as she watched Jem Denham retreat from the bedroom, his bedroom. It had not escaped her attention as to what room she had been placed in. The very memories that they had created in this room were entirely intoxicating and quickly began to contribute to the overwhelming feelings that were consuming her in that moment.

As soon as the door closed, tears began to stream down Cressie's face, her eyes producing more and more than could seem humanly possible. Every part of her wanted to scream for him, to call him back. It was Jem, her Jem. Jem had once, briefly and entirely, been every good thing in her life.

Cressie quickly buried her face into the pillow next to her and screamed, sobbing as a scent she had long forgotten filled her senses. Her screams were muffled by the silk and feathers, but the fabric absorbed her uncontrollable tears.

Please, come back, Cressie willed into the darkness, though no words escaped her mouth. Please, come back and see me. Come back and notice what has become of me. Find me. Help me.

But Cressie remained alone. She was alone as she always was. Never physically. Cressie was rarely alone physically. Her gaoler was always near to keep an eye on her. But the isolation was crippling. She was isolated from anything and anyone. She could not even speak to her own mother. It was crippling to the point where it had robbed Cressie of who she was. She couldn't speak, couldn't eat, couldn't dress how she wanted. She was not permitted her own money or to travel without permission, and she could not even send a letter without it being read –

Cressie's head suddenly turned to the writing desk in the corner of Jem's bedroom. Even in the dim candlelight, she could see the papers atop of it. Cressie felt fear and trepidation before the idea even crossed her mind. The rules were so ingrained into her that she felt sick before she had even formed a plan.

She had been broken in, broken down so many times, as though she were one of Everett's poor horses. Her will and spirit and determination had been erased from her being after every little rebellion. And as much as a younger Cressie would have been shocked to see the ghost of the woman she had become, it had worked. Everett's conditioning worked. Cressie lacked any fight. To fight made her afraid.

Cressie looked upon the writing desk with fear. She saw an opportunity, and yet her legs did not move to get up and out of the bed. She whimpered as her weakness overcame her and Cressie through herself back into the pillows in shame.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door and Cressie's heart stopped.

Jem. Could it be? While she had not been able to cry out, had he heard her cries, her pleas anyway?

But her hopes were dashed the next moment as two housemaids entered the room. One carried a food tray and the other went directly to the fireplace to begin building it up.

"There you are, ma'am," the housemaid said as she placed the tray down across Cressie's legs in the bed. "Eat up, and your strength will be returned in no time."

"Is there anyone out in the hallway?" Cressie asked shakily, completely disregarding what the housemaid had said. Her voice was thick with emotion, evidence that she had been crying, and she shivered at the sound.

"No, ma'am." The young maid shook her head. "Did you send for someone? Would you like for us to summon someone for you?"

"No," Cressie replied all too quickly. Her eyes fell to the dishes that had been brought up for her and her heart sank. It looked like a collection of puddings from the ball, as well as a cut gammon sandwich made from one of the main courses of the evening. There was a class of jelly and cream, and a perfectly decorated chocolate torte, and three Queen's biscuits. What was delectably presented food made Cressie's stomach turn, and she could barely stomach the sight of it.