Chapter 27

Alice gently closed the door to her little chamber for the last time as the beautiful glimmer of dawn started to adorn the heavens. Her bag, full with the few items she had gathered over the years, seemed weighty in her grasp; maybe this was the weight of her heart making everything seem harder.

Stopped in the corridor, she listened to the ancient house's typical moans and creaks. She has lived here three years. It seemed now like a stranger's home, chilly and hostile.

Alice couldn't help but recall all the times she had hurried up and down these stairs, ringing bells, carrying trays, or covertly meeting Carson. She was walking down the servants' stairway. She had to stop, resting against the wall to calm herself; the remembrance of those taken events brought a fresh surge of agony.

She murmured to herself, "Get a grip, Alice," inhaled deeply. "You are capable of this."

She was shocked to see Clara waiting for her at the bottom of the steps, a thermos in her hands and anxiety clearly