Chapter 35
*Flashback*
It had happened within the second year of Winter's arrival in the estate. At first, Anita had not thought much about her presence. To Anita, Winter was simply a speck of mold trying to grow and thrive off fresh nobility. So, she did the things she could do to try and make her life a living hell. However, it wasn't until the marquess had attempted to take her own life, that things began to reveal themselves to Anita.
"Mother," Anita ran towards the marquess's bedroom, opening the door without waiting for a reply.
There the marquess sat at the window, looking outside with not much thought other than hostility. The bedroom was rid of anything that could be a potential danger to the marquess, and for a second one would think that the bedroom was one commoners used or newly titled barons, as its luxurious nature had been stripped.
To the marquess, it felt as though it wasn't enough to be humiliated by the marquis' affair but to be stripped of things that allowed her to be known as the marquess she was, was as though her dignity had been stripped from her.
"Mother," Anita called out, yet again receiving no response. "I brought you your favorite flowers, it must feel dull in here," her thirteen-year-old voice spoke out with maturity.
"Anita my dear, no one will ever understand," her mother began,
She couldn't understand the weight of the words or what she saw that day did to her mind.
"You and I only have each other," her mother said with sorrow.
"We have father too," Anita said. The marquis never really looked at the child. He ignored her and never acknowledged her existence. He simply brought her in like any other noble for the sake of public image.
Once she the words left her mouth her mother had gotten a hold of her shoulders, holding them in a tight grip. Anita winced at the sudden force she was grabbed with as she encountered her mother's empty eyes.
"Father?" her mother questioned almost mockingly, "He has been bewitched," she uttered. Turning Anita to look forcefully outside the window she had been staring out of, Anita caught sight of winter in the garden below, their father stood far across the illegitimate child for a passing moment, for a moment looking at her precisely the way he had been watching Anita all these years.
"Yes…yes, that's the only way to explain why this has happened. Look at how he looks at the child lovingly, as if she was never a mistake… as though, she was all he ever wanted in the world. Just like her lowly mother, she has bewitched him too. He's forgotten about us," her mother said brokenly.
"Mother, please get a hold of yourself," she said as she tried calming her down, her eyes brimming with tears at her mother's composure.
"I can't do that My child; Anita my lovely child, I have nothing left. Because of that lowly woman I have not only become a laughingstock in society but my very own house. He has taken everything away from me…from us…for a child born out of wedlock." Her mother's face filled with disgust and hatred.
"He doesn't love us," her mother said the words Anita's mind had constantly echoed to her. She had tried her hardest to deny it all, but now the words were coming back.
"That's not true," she tried denying it.
In a flash, her mother gripped her face forcefully making her face the scene below, tears streaming down her face, as the marquess's nails dug into her skin. "LOOK AT IT!" the marquess screamed. "He does not love you." Her mother said harshly. "If he did, this would have never happened. It's all their fault,"
Letting go, Anita felt at a loss for words. And not long after she heard a thump behind her. Turning around she watched as a glass bottle rolled from the marquess' hand towards her feet.
"M-mother…" Anita called out.
"SOMEONE, PLEASE, HELP!" she yelled out in a panic looking at her mother's limp body.
Soon the servant rushed in and not long after the doctor had come looking at the situation and got to work. The handmaiden had taken Anita out, trying to calm the now trembling little girl who gripped the glass bottle. For a second something seemed to break in Anita's mind as she let out a shaky laugh.
Standing up she rushed to the carriage. If she was fast enough, she could get to an apothecary. Entering the carriage, she ordered the carriage toward the alleyway of Burgundy street. Reaching, she rushed out of the carriage without a second to waste. She hurried down the alleyway. It was out of character for Anita to simply rush out of the estate without an escort or handmaiden. But here she was, rushing through the alleyway. She had only been down this alley once before in the past when she had tried getting an herb that couldn't be found anywhere.
Reaching the rusty cabin at the end of the alleyway, she banged on the door in a rush, the glass bottle in her hand. The continued banging on the door as no response came through and for the very time, she felt helpless and weak.
"Little girl, would you like some help?"
A voice spoke out from behind her. She turned to see a woman completely hidden by a cloak, only stands of her wavy black hair peeked through, a sinister smile in sight.
"I'm looking for the apothecary, do you know where they are?" she asked.
"I do not, but I can assure you the marquess is fine," the lady spoke.
How did she know that? Anita thought suspiciously.
"Who are you and what do you want? are you a spy?" Anita questioned as the lady laughed out loud.
"If only I were as simple as a spy. I'm the fortune teller of Burgundy street," she said almost as though it was a great accomplishment.
A Fortune teller?