11

T he walls thrummed about her as she flitted delicately through the halls. Carpets cushioned her steps and a warm, ever-present breeze rustled delicately against her skirts and skin. An understanding had been come to. A union of sorts. Years spent learning every inch of her, from the countless flecks in her irises to copper curls of her hair, were reciprocated in kind by her inhabiting the Manor. Unknowingly she breathed life back into spaces that had long been forgotten and left untouched.

Countless hours spent reading in the library, using her boundless imagination to explore and live vicariously through the pages, seemed to inject energy into the house. Back into the walls that held her, cocooned around her with care. The plants that blossomed under her hand brought life and wonder to a place once dark and dying. Both inside the conservatory and the outside gardens bloomed and thrived to please her. She was loved here, and often loved in return.

As the trust continued to grow, a field of wildflowers did too, flourishing among the rolling hills of grasses in the expansive acreage behind the Manor. A gift, a loving gesture and an extension of freedom, however limited. It was always met with gratitude and excitement, and also a hidden unshakable sense of sadness. Despite it, to the Manor she shone. Something so light, only able to shine so brightly due to the dark that constantly threatened to devour it.