Arabella had found refuge out, on one of the balconies that lurched over the gardens. Clutching at the embroidered drapes her grandfather had brought along. She breathed its essence in only to be relieved upon realizing that throughout all of those years its original scent had been preserved.
The perfume did mingle with that of her grandmother's, but it wasn't nearly as prominent as that of her mother's.
So good it was, almost too good to be true.
Thankfully, Cedric did not insist on speaking to her for longer and merely allowed staff to guide him to his quarters. No complaints from the servants arose just yet so Arabella treated her time with as much care as possible, enjoying every second of peace and quiet to its smallest and last bit as though they were her last.
With such people under her roof, who knew what could happen?
Her roof? For the first time since ever… Arabella thought of the Eleazar manor as her roof.
