Contrary to Amelias hopes the weather did not let up for days. What had started as light snowfall quickly turned into a storm as harsh ocean winds reached the mainland.
It was bearable during the day since there were plenty of ways for Amelia to keep herself busy. A dressfitting with Adeline, etiquette lessons, pleasant afternoon strolls or sharing a meal with Dario. It all kept her mind from wandering to places she did not want to go.
The nights were more difficult however. Without the distraction of day her mind took her places she'd rather just forget, and she had difficulties sleeping.
That's why she was relieved when Dario invited her to his room. The somewhat cramped chamber with its understated decor and rustic yet comfortable furniture had become a comforting space for her, something that would have been hard to imagine only months ago.
And of course there was him. Amelia couldn't pinpoint when she'd gotten so comfortable around Dario who she had been so afraid of in the beginning. Yet there she was, sitting with her feet up and body hunched in his armchair by the fire without a care for proper conduct.
"So if you were to move your rook there I could take out your queen with my bishop?"
When Dario had offered to teach her chess earlier that night Amelia had never expected for it to be so engaging.
"Now you're getting it" Dario answered, seeming pleased with his teaching methods despite the fact that she'd brutally lost three games already.
"So will you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Move your rook."
"Why the hell would I do that?"
"So that I can win of course."
Dario laughed in bewilderment of her naive reasoning.
"In your dreams, if you want to beat me you'll have to get better" he grinned.
Whenever Dario smiled Amelia couldn't help but to feel a sense of familiarity. Before she hadn't been able to pinpoint why, but as the snowfall had brought back old memories she was finally able to place it.
In truth he didn't resemble William much. If she were to imagine William as an adult she'd picture someone hot-headed with soft feautres and a slim build. And of course a head of beautiful caramel hair.
Dario however looked sharper. With a pronunced jawline, large build and prominent brow he gave of a domineering impression that she didn't remember William ever having. Everything about him was different, his hair, skin, even his mannerisms.
Yet she saw William in Dario whenever he smiled. And while looking at him she couldn't help but to think that this appearance too would have suited the boy of her memories.
It was something that Amelia didn't dare to think of. Just like she had after her mother's passing she'd seen traces of William everywhere as well, even in brief encounters with young passersby on the streets. Every short moment of hope had done nothing but hurt her.
She had decided to let go of the memory of him for good when a young gardeners apprentice had been thrown out of the manor by her father when Amelia was caught kissing him. The boy had neither looked nor acted like William at all. For some reason the mere fact that he had brown hair and was kind to her had been enough to soothe her longing for the dead.
It was telling of her own self regard that she only stopped when the hurt no longer affected only her. And of her own selfishness for using someone like that.
Yet here Amelia was again, experiencing that fleeting hope. The thought that time had simply altered her memory of him kept creeping back as if her unconscius was trying to convince her that they were indeed the same person.
It left her wondering whether her growing affection for Dario was only that; an echo of the past that she was too weak to part with?
However even as she looked at Dario with a new conviction to not entertain such thoughts she still found herself wanting to be close to him, hoping that his hand would accidentally grace hers.
"Check mate."
Darios sudden proclaimation interrupted her pondering.
"Wanna go again" he teased while leaning back in the sofa with a satisfied grin.
"Do you truly take such joy in winning over a beginner?"
"I take that as a no then?"
Amelia giggled.
"Next time I get to teach you a game."
In only a moment he had made her let go of her worries. She wondered what the use truly was in dwelling on the past when the present made her so very happy.
"Right, I've been meaning to talk to you" Dario suddenly announced as he gathered the scattered chess pieces .
"I want to arrange a celebration for your birthday next week. However the snow is making it quite difficult to send out invitations."
Amelia was taken aback by his words. It must have shown on her face because he quickly followed with clarification.
"Your birth date was written on the adoption papers your father had. I just happened to see it when we... went through everything back then."
Though likely not a big gesture in his mind Amelias chest became warm at the consideration he was showing. She had since long let go of the expectation for anyone to bother to remember, let alone wanting to celebrate, her birthday.
"I don't know what to say, thank you."
Images came to mind of the dry pastries that her mother and a few other women from the brothel had shared with Amelia every year without fail. It had been a small and frugal setting, but Amelia still held on to the memory of those birthday's as precious.
"Ah, and do not worry about the invitations. Everyone I'd like to have there are already in the estate" she added.
***
As seemed to have become a trend as of recent Amelia was woken up during the night by the sound of harsh winds.
In the scarse light from the remaining embers in the fire Amelia could see Dario's sleeping figure laying on the sofa, his body calmly rising with every inhale. Although pricked by feelings of guilt for occupying his bed she was at the same time relieved to see that he slept.
Amelia was just about to lay her head back down on the pillow when a cold draft sent shivers through her body. The thick duvet seemed to be of little use in such weather.
She refrained from calling on a servant as to not wake Dario. Instead she reluctantly left the comfort of the bed to stoke the fire.
When the flames were finally raising she couldn't bear to leave the warmth.
She remained there for a while longer, seated on the soft rug on the floor in front of the fireplace with the duvet wrapped around her shoulders. The crackling of the fire and rythmic breaths from the sofa behind her was strangely relaxing and she almost wanted to lay down and sleep on the spot.
To give her face a break from the tough heat that emanated from the flames she turned her head, and she couldn't help but to look at the man sleeping closely behind her. In the warm light of the fire his feautres appeared softer. His lips were slightly parted and the usual tenseness of his brow was nowhere to be seen.
As if still half asleep she absent-mindedly extended her hand towards him, her fingertips lightly tracing along a scar on the back of his hand that hanged over the edge of the sofa. In her stomach was a familiar feeling of warm flutters, an emotion she thought she'd since long forgotten.
She became aware of the inproprarity of her behaviour only when Dario suddenly moved in his sleep.
Amelia promptly withdrew her hand and rised to her feet. Even though he did not wake up she felt her cheeks burning from the embarrassment.