Time stretches, marked by the tick of the large grandfather clock in the center of the dual stairs leading to the second floor. I wait. The grand entrance looks much the same, with light marble, powder blue, silver, and crystal accents. The last time I ran down these stairs, I was a girl of twelve, playing at being a lady. 

Mary finally catches up with me in the entryway.

“Lady Florence,” she pauses, breathless, “you mustn’t run like that! What would His and her Grace think?”

I’ll never know if they never see me, I think.

How long must I wait for them? How long had I been waiting already? Probably only a few minutes, but it felt like far longer due to the circumstances. Tick.

Mary shifts from foot to foot, then announces, “With your permission, I’ll go to the kitchens to see if I can learn anything.”

She takes my shawl and leaves. And I am alone.

Finally, I hear footsteps as Gerald reappears. His grim face gives nothing away, and I try to keep my face just as neutral. But how could I be neutral in this case? Who could keep calm while their own mother and father were—

“His Grace will see you in the Drawing Room,” he announces, “Her Grace is unwell and will be unable to join you, I’m afraid. Please, follow me.”

My heart starts to pound as I follow Gerald down the familiar, yet somehow unfamiliar, hallway. I had grown up here, but why did I feel like I didn’t belong? Why did I feel like a visitor in my own home?

My heartbeat swishes in my ears, swoosh swoosh swoosh, as Gerald opens the door for me and I step in. My vision narrows.

There he is.

I immediately meet his watery blue eyes, eyes that had once been filled with kindness and warmth. They’re tired now. Empty.

“Florence, child,” he calls, gesturing with a hand. He doesn’t get up. He doesn't burst into tears. He doesn’t rush to embrace me. 

I grip my skirt with my hands, held rigid at my sides. 

Don’t cry. 

I lift my chin and force the barest of smiles as I walk to the settee across from him and sit on the edge, back as straight as a pole. 

“Father,” I greet him, “I’m awake, as you can see. It’s been…seven—”

“Seven years,” he finishes, nodding. He looks down at the carpet. “Ah. I’m…we’re happy you’ve woken up, child. We’ve wished for nothing more this entire time.” 

He drifts off and I don’t know what to say in reply, so the silence sits. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say or ask—there are plenty of words sitting in my mouth ready to burst out—but the moment isn’t right for any of them.

Thankfully, Gerald interrupts us with some tea, the clinks and clanks of the silver and china filling the silence with a familiar, comforting din.

“Ah, the tea,” father says, “will you take a cup, my dear?”

“Yes, father.” His eyes pinch ever so slightly.

Did he almost wince when I called him ‘father’ just now? Surely not!

Finally, after we have our tea and everything is settled, he speaks again.

“Florence,” he begins carefully. I’m on alert. What could possibly be next? Disownment? “While you were asleep, things in the family have…changed. You have to understand that we were not sure you would ever wake up. Your mother and I, we tried everything when you first fell asleep. Nothing worked—nothing! After a few years, when nothing changed…we…it’s not that we gave up on you. But it was wearing on your mother. I had to protect her. 

“That is why we moved you to the annex. We, well, I, thought it was best to keep your care out of her sight. I’m sorry you woke up in such a way. However…I think it’s wise for you to keep living there for now. At least until I can be sure your mother will be able to handle your awakening. She doesn’t know yet and I don’t plan to tell her until she’s stable enough. You don’t want to hurt your mother, do you? I knew you’d understand.”

I found myself nodding in agreement. What other choice did I have? He was exiling me to the annex, for a valid reason, if it was true. Mother really was ill.

“If I'm to stay there, father, might I have some funds to refurbish the annex? The living conditions are not up to the standard of a Duke’s daughter.”

“They aren’t?” His face grows dark. Perhaps he hadn’t been aware of my living conditions or the treatment I’d been receiving. A kernel of hope flares within me. 

Push forward! the little voice encourages, Ask for more. He is asking much from you, after all.

“You’re welcome to visit if you don’t believe me,” I reply, sipping my tea. 

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll grant you some funds for refurbishment as you see fit.”

“I’ll also need funds for a wardrobe—this is one of the few dresses I had available and it doesn’t even fit properly. I’ll also require a separate allowance. Surely all of this is within reason if I am expected to live apart from my own family for the time being?”

He winces. Good. I want him to hurt as much as I hurt. I haven’t seen my family in seven years. Now, waking up to find out they don’t want to see me? That my waking up is problematic to them? Harming them? An icy dagger pierces my heart. 

Don’t cry. I lift my chin again. 

“It will only be for a few more days, Florence,” he says, running a hand through his gray hair—it wasn’t gray the last time I saw him, I realize—a habit mother always chided him for. “You will get everything you ask for. Just send a message to the house and Gerald will take care of it.”

He gets up from the settee and puts a heavy hand on the top of my head.

“I am glad you’re awake, my dear,” he says, “I truly am. Please believe that, if nothing else.”

He pats me twice, clumsily, then walks out of the room. 

I’m able to wait until the sound of his footsteps disappears before I let the tears fall down my face. My sleeve will have to do as a handkerchief—I don’t even have one of those.

“Here, my lady,” Gerald says softly as I wipe my face on my arm. He holds out a pristine, white handkerchief to me. Unlike earlier, his eyes mirror my own grief, and I realize I might not be as alone as I thought. More tears fall.

I take the handkerchief—the first gift from home—and try to gather all my emotions back into myself.  

There isn’t time to fall apart on the settee. Now that I have an ally and funds, I must make a plan. 

For if there was one thing that was made abundantly clear during the meeting with my father, it was that he has no interest in actually being involved in my life. He said I’d only be in the annex for another few days, but for some reason, I don’t believe him. Maybe I’ll be wrong and I’ll be welcomed back into the mansion with open arms. Or perhaps a few days will go by, and it will turn into a few more days, and a few more, until there is no end in sight.

I take a deep breath, and have a thought—is my old room still the same? Am I even allowed to go up to it?

No. I wouldn’t be allowed. I might run into my mother and that would be bad for her health. 

Me, her child, bad for her health. My stomach churns.

“I’m ready to go back, Gerald,” I say. “May I keep this? Thank you. Did His Grace inform you about the refurbishment funds and allowance?” I tuck the damp handkerchief into my pocket.

“Yes, my lady,” he says. “Everything will be taken care of. Please convey your wishes to me and it shall be done as soon as possible.”

“Good.” I pause in the entryway, where Mary was waiting for me. “I’ll send a letter later today with everything you’ll need to know about the refurbishment.” Truthfully, I already had a good idea of how I wanted everything to look.

“Yes, my lady.” He bows deeply to us, deeper perhaps than he normally would, and we depart for the annex.

Mary holds an umbrella for the two of us as we leave. If she was surprised that we were heading back to the annex, it didn’t show on her face. Perhaps she already knew. Perhaps everyone knew that I wasn’t welcome in the main house. 

I look at the annex with fresh eyes as we approach, thinking about it as my new home rather than a temporary residence. I can see myself here for a long, long time.

The icy dagger pushes deeper into my heart.