Her father

Emily was shivering for more than one reason. Aside from the fear that had seeped into her blood and caused her breath to come in pants, the house was eerily cold. It made no sense to her how a house with a full staff and a lord of the manor would have the drapes lowered in the middle of the day. Candles lined the walls and provided a means to see their path, but it did nothing to alleviate Emily's dread.

What had her father dragged her into?

Led by Mr. Brown and with two quiet maids walking behind her with her boxes, they made their way pass a long hallway lowly illuminated by candles and emerged into a spacious hallway that had a handful of closed doors lining the path.

"This here is your living quarters, Miss Dewhurst," Mr. Brown announced, opening the nearest door and bowing with a flourish as she stepped past him into the room.

It was as dark in there as it was in the hallway and Emily felt tears spring to her eyes. Why did everything have to be so terribly drab? She loved colours and light and bright insects. Subdued shades were not a favorite of hers and she didn't believe she would have to marry a man who delighted in making his home look like a tomb.

"Mr. Brown?" She called uncertainly.

"Of course Miss Dewhurst, pardon my slowness."

The older man waltzed past her and in a split second, light flooded the room. The light was so bright and unexpected that she quickly shielded her eyes.

"Sorry, Miss Dewhurst" the two maids chorused and Emily cranked one eye open to see them moving further into the room with her trunks.

She slowly opened her eyes and stared in bewilderment at the sight before her eyes.

She considered herself to be a stylish person and she was always kept abreast of the newest happenings in fashion. She had thought it to be an excellent preparation for when she would make her debut in London. Sadly, the debut did not turn out well. It left her with deep scars that she would do anything but talk about. It came as no surprise to her father that she absolutely refused to have a second season in London and would rather sequester herself in her townhome. Her knowledge and love of fashion had never left her and she was equal parts shocked and thrilled to see that the room was furnished with pieces that reflected the latest fashion and style, the decor elegant and refined without being ostentacious.

The large bed was the centerpiece of the room, ornate with elaborate draperies and a towering canopy. She walked close to it and ran a hand over the bedding, marvelling at how soft it was, so much like her beddings back home. The bedding was no doubt made of luxurious silk and adorned with lace and embroidery of flowers and crowns.

She looked away from the bed towards the rest of the room. On the opposite end of the bed, there was a dressing table, equipped with a long mirror, The table consisted of several lockers which were no doubt meant to be used to store her array of brushes, combs, and cosmetics.

The room also consisted of a wardrobe into which the maids were arranging her clothes, a chaise lounge, and a writing desk that was placed close to the window.

The walls of the room were covered with a wallpaper which depicted scenes from of flowering fields and pastoral landscapes. There was a fireplace in the room, and the hearth was surrounded by an elegant mantlepiece, adorned with vases and figurines.

"Do you want a bite to eat, Miss Dewhurst?" Mr. Brown asks. "I can send a maid up with a light repaste."

Emily looked over at the maids working on her luggages and shook her head slightly.

"N_No. I just want to be alone right now."

"Of course, Miss Dewhurst." He replies and the maids move silently out with him, closing the door with a faint sound.

The sound of the door closing felt like the locks sliding in place and locking her in a cell. Unbidden, the tears slid down her eyes and she threw herself on the bed and sobbed at the unfairness of it all.