To Have A Heart (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite 7)

happen if she didn’t do as she was told. The last time Mrs Cummings hadn’t been happy with Mallory’s work she had sent Malloy to the small cell-type room in the basement that was her bed chamber without anything to eat. But Mrs Cummings hadn’t considered that to be punishment enough because she had refused to feed Mallory the following day as well. Mallory suspected Mrs Cummings would have just starved her to death had Mallory not almost collapsed from hunger on the third morning. Only then had Mrs Cummings relented and slammed a small plate of bread and cheese in front of her together with another pile of dirty pots to wash.

Glad to be able to get her hands out of the water for a while, Mallory eyed the basket beside her warily but gamely tried to pick it up only to find that she was too weak to lift it off the floor. Still, she tried desperately to get the heavy burden off the ground but ended up half-dragging, half-carrying it toward the door leading to the garden.

“Do you think we should allow her out?” Edward murmured to Mrs Cummings.

Together, he and the housekeeper watched Mallory wrestle the basket out of the door but neither of them made any attempt to help her.

“She doesn’t have the energy to run anywhere. Leave the stupid witch. She can struggle,” Mrs Cummings snorted dismissively before turning back to the kitchen. “I am not going to help her. She can suffer. The master wants her rendered incapable of putting up a fight, so that is what we are going to do, Edward. Nothing more than that.”

Mallory was trying her hardest to pretend she wasn’t listening but hung on to every word of their conversation. So she could think about it some more, Mallory was compelled to do everything possible to get outside with her heavy burden. On any other day it would have been nice to get out of the house and savour some fresh air and sunshine. Today, the sky was overcast and accompanied by a bitter wind that was icy. It cut through Mallory’s thin dress with razor-sharp cruelty. So much so, Mallory eyed the house longingly, wishing she would be allowed to go back inside to fetch her shawl. But she knew she wouldn’t be.

“It would almost be a blessing if I dropped dead from influenza,” she grumbled with a miserable sniff.

Mallory turned her attention to the basket of washing. She tried not to cry when the wind tore at her chapped hands and made them sting. The pain was a sharp reminder of just how desperate her life was now. Desperate, and a million miles away from where she had grown up.

“That life is over,” she whispered mournfully.

As Mallory stared down at her familiar fingers, she suddenly felt an acute detachment the likes of which she had never felt before. Her hands felt like someone else’s hands; familiar to her but strangely disconnected from who she was. They belonged to the woman she had been prior to her ordeal; someone who had been free, had made her own decisions in life, and had, without knowing it, been rather settled and content with her lot in life. The hands Mallory was staring at now bore testament to the long hours of suffering she had endured; the tedious and relentless work. It was horrible to think that they were a warning of who she was going to be from now on.

“My hands aren’t ever going to get any better while I stay here. I need to leave,” she whispered as she studied the sore and red callouses.

“Good morning.”

While the deeply rumbling innocuous statement was innocent enough, its unexpected call was enough to make Mallory physically flinch as though she had just been struck. Like an animal scenting danger, her head snapped up as she glanced wildly around for the source of the greeting. It took a few moments for Mallory to realise that the voice had been kindly; far nicer than any she had heard since her arrival at the house.

“Hello?”

Mallory’s gaze collided with an innocuous looking gentleman standing about six feet away. She opened her mouth to speak to him only to close it again with a snap. A furtive glance at the window assured her that nobody was looking at what she was doing. Still, she knew that someone would check on her. If they saw her talking, she would be in deep trouble – again.

Mallory squinted suspiciously at the man. The urge to ask him what he wanted was strong. He was a stranger, that much she knew.

He probably isn’t aware that he shouldn’t speak to me.

When the man didn’t seem inclined to move on, Mallory glared at him. He smiled at her, seemingly oblivious to her growing dismay. Determined not to get anybody else into trouble, Mallory turned her attention to hanging out the washing. There was so much she wanted to say, to ask of the man, that she didn’t know where to start even if she was bold enough to have a conversation with him.

I cannot trust him. He is a stranger and might work directly for the master. I wouldn’t put it past that lot in the house to send him out here to talk to me just to get me into trouble.

Mallory glared at the man once more.

“What?” she snapped, growing impatient.

“Should you be out here without a cloak on?” the man asked.

“I am not out here through choice,” she retorted with a glare.

The stranger frowned slightly but nodded, as if he didn’t understand but wasn’t going to ask for clarification.

Mallory picked up a large sheet and shook it out.

“It’s cold out,” the man continued, completely unconcerned by her reticence.

“Yes. It is,” Mallory murmured politely.

She doubted he had heard her because the wind snatched her words out of her mouth and carried them away the second that they were spoken.

Mallory began to peg the washing out like she had been ordered to do. She tried to ignore the painful sting of the cold wind nipping at her upper arms but couldn’t contain the shiver that tore through her. It was so violent that she had to clamp her teeth together to stop them clattering.

“Would you like me to fetch you a cloak?”