Silence was the single surrounding entity in Thornton house that morning. Not even a chair was scraped across the ground, and the servants walked around on tiptoes so that they would appear almost nonexistent.
The curtains were shut as well, and one might have imagined that a loved one had passed on in the middle of the night, for only a tragedy such as this would warrant such a pragmatic approach to the day.
Emily was to be found in her room, wrapped up on the windowsill and staring out at the street below. The carriages trundling along and the people mucking about were of little to no consequence to her.
If one could take a peek into her soul, then perhaps it might have been noticed how dark and despondent her heavy heart was. Her eyes stared blankly at a man who walked past briskl
