My Miser +A Storm & Silence Fanfiction+

22. Alternative Beginning #6

Sunlight kissed my face emphasizing the arrival of the new day. I tried my best to shield my eyes from the hot burning rays - which intended to ruin my peaceful sleep - but to no avail. At last, I curled my hands into fist and rubbed the eyes vigorously. Raising both of my hands, I stretched my body and yawned. Oh yes, I didn't cover my mouth while yawning. Because, that decorum was expected by the contingent ladies in the society. But I wasn't dependent on anyone, was I?

My back ached as my feet touched the floor. Sleeping on the arm chair the whole night wasn't the best thing in the world. In fact, it felt like I've been buried into the crate filled with a thousand frosty cubes of ice trying to vanish my existence. That numb my body was right now.

Shrugging all the pain and numbness, I surveyed the room in order to find the presence of the owner of this house - the person with cold blue eyes and aficionado of the silence. No, not because I had addiction of his monumental presence but I had important things to say to him before it was too late.

Trawling my feet through the floor, I swept my eyes all around the house but there was not a slightest hint of the statuesque figure.

No wonder he must have locked himself in his dear office in Leadenhall street and would be working his rear off. That gentleman was too much obsessed with his work or rather money. May God in the heaven have pity on him and bless him with some brains to think rational.

With the absence of Mr. Ambrose, I had nothing to do. I gave a thought to go out for a walk but I couldn't do. Perhaps, he would accuse me of the things I'd never done. Not that I was afraid of him but I had to gain his trust until I explain him everything that Lord Dalgliesh had concocted. So that way, Dalgliesh could do no harm to either of us.

I gave another thought to read the only book I'd it here but I'd completed reading the whole book last night before falling dozing off on the armchair.

After contemplating the whole possibilities of the things that would make my time passable - while pacing around the house and tripping a hundredth time over the objects plonked all over the floor - I decided to clean the house.

The house looked like it hadn't been clean for years or rather haven't been used. But who was I to blame, Mr. Ambrose as prompter as he was, wouldn't waste time on cleaning on the mere pieces of bricks serving an abode to him.

Shaking my head, I started doing my work. It took my three hours and forty five minutes to be exact - of course, with all the lunchtime and break included - to make the house presentable. But all those cleaning processes resulted in the grime covering my face, my clothes basking with the water and cobwebs besmearing in my hair with a few spiders dangling on my brown locks. And so, that's how I ended up into Mr. Ambrose's bathroom.

I unsullied myself from all the asymmetrical irregular pattern of threads belonging to the spiders as I rubbed my hair strenuously. Gracing the water all over my body and cleaning it with the only soap, I walked out of the bathroom wearing my untied corset and a single towel wrapped around my body.

Walking towards the edge of the bed - where I'd kept my clothes - I dropped the towel down on the floor. And now was the time to perform the toughest part of my whole life : tying the corset. Oh how I missed my dear sister for always being there to get me inside this bloody bodice.

'Naarrrggg! You dizzy aged clothing, get along with me!'

I tried to tie the knots but the damn thing wouldn't budge. If only I had learned to wear a corset..

'Bloody hell! I'm gonna chop you into pieces, wait until I find scissors!'

After it seemed like twenty minutes and at least, giving the clothing two hundred words - of course, that weren't quite right to mention in the polite society - I, at last managed to tie all the knots and skimmed the clothes kept on the bed over my head.