"Who are you, miss?" the maid whispered. She wrung her hands as her focus flitted about behind Amelia, as if she had been expecting someone else. "What… what business do you have with Lord Talley?”
Amelia hesitated, considering her next words carefully, aware of the weight of her sister's safety hanging in the balance. "Please," Amelia implored. "I need to speak with my sister, Dorothy."
The maid’s eyes somehow widened even further, and her fidgeting abruptly stopped. “Your sister? Her Ladyship is your—"
Before she could finish, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Suddenly, Dorothy appeared, her blonde locks in a tangled mess, her once vibrant blue eyes clouded in worry. Upon spotting Amelia, relief flooded her face.
"Amelia!" she gasped, rushing forward and grasping her sister's hands. "What are you doing here? Lottie, it's all right, go back inside, please.”
"But, my lady, Lord Talley will be—" Lottie began to protest.
"Please, leave us," Dorothy instructed, her tone firm yet gentle. She watched the maid leave until she was wholly out of sight before she turned back to Amelia, her expression softening.
The joy Amelia felt upon seeing Dorothy quickly transformed into deep concern. Her once bright visage now held a haunting dullness that left Amelia's heart aching. Her skin had lost its sun-kissed glow, and dark circles loomed under her eyes. It was still her sister, but she seemed like the living dead now.
"Look at you," Amelia murmured, her vision blurring with tears. "What has he done to you?"
"Amelia, why have you come?" Dorothy asked, ignoring her sister’s concern. "You shouldn't be here. It isn’t safe for you. Ithought I warned you not to—Oh God! Did he send you another correspondence after mine—"
Amelia quickly took Dorothy’s hands in reassurance. “No, no, nothing of the sort.”
"Why have you risked coming then? You know it's dangerous for you to be seen with me. Who accompanied you?” Dorothy’s gaze flickered around anxiously, scanning the streets for a liveried carriage.
"Nobody," Amelia replied softly. "I came alone."
Dorothy fell deadly silent, her lips pressed into a tight line. Amelia didn’t know what to think. This wasn’t the Dorothy she remembered, this wasn’t the Dorothy from the letters they’d exchanged—and she knew for certain now how much her husband had changed her. Gently, Amelia pulled her elder sister into a comforting embrace, and a glimpse of her former self shone through when she hesitantly returned the gesture.
“You little fool,” Dorothy murmured as they parted. “Come with me,” she continued, leading Amelia deeper into the house. "We should find somewhere more private in case he returns."
They walked in silence through the house. Dorothy pulled Amelia down some corridors, each bland and empty, devoid of portraits, decorations, or any semblance of a loving home. They ascended a narrow flight of stairs, stopping outside a plain wooden door.
"Quickly, inside," Dorothy urged.
Amelia nodded before slipping into the dimly lit chamber. The room was small and sparse, but tastefully furnished. A corner bookcase boasted a collection of novels and poetry, while a gray damask sofa rested below a tall sash window, reminiscent of Amelia’s own set up at the east wing of Stanhope. A fireplace at the heart of the room provided some warmth, painting a vastly different image to the barren corridors, but there was still something off about it all. The room felt… safe, and only bore signs of Dorothy's desperate attempts to maintain her dignity amidst the chaos her life had become – little touches of elegance amongst the disarray. Or a façade to convince people everything was okay, when the truth was far from it.
"Here we can talk freely," Dorothy said as she closed the door behind them. “Please, sit down. Oh, forgive the old sheets, I was meaning to change them today.”
Amelia sighed, doing as she was told, a weight seeming to lift from her chest. "Has he been cruel to you?” Amelia paused after seconds of silence, “That was a foolish question.”
Dorothy didn’t respond right away, biting her lower lip instead. "…You have still not answered my question, Amelia. Why have you come here?”
"For your safety," Amelia insisted. "I cannot bear any longer the thought of you suffering at the hands of that wretched monster."
Dorothy shook her head, her expression pained. "I’ve no choice. He is my husband."
"Only by cruel fate," Amelia countered, gently taking her sister’s hands. "You deserve so much more than this life."
"Perhaps," Dorothy murmured, her gaze dropping to the rickety floorboards peeking out from beneath a musty carpet. "But we must be realistic. There is no escaping him."
"But there is. We can leave everything behind and start anew. Together," Amelia said, standing up now. "Perhaps—perhaps we can move to a quiet cottage in the countryside, just as we used to dream when we were children."
"Amelia, be sensible," Dorothy replied, her voice hollow. "Those were merely childhood imaginings. We are grown now, with responsibilities and obligations—"
“Youdon’t have any obligations to that man!” Amelia argued.
“—And we do not have the means to live such lives. At least, I don’t. I am bound to him legally. I have nothing,” Dorothy added, spreading her hands in helplessness. “I am glad you have visited me one last time. Truly. I missed you so terribly so, but you need to go now.”
"Dorothy, I—”
