(4) Every Monday Morning
Every Monday morning she would rise slower than the day before. She had stayed up past midnight, only going to bed when the butlers had insisted upon it. She was done up once again in front of her silver vanity on the sage green plush stool. The nannies and maids spent nearly an hour getting her hair into its perfect tight curls, and more time after that to arrange them neatly on her head. Her newest dress, of a light green, slipped onto her as the maids began to unpack her many jewels and gems to wear for the day. A butler stood off to the side, reading the weekly report to our young lady of the house and the servants and the Cadell’s businesses. Though she was still young he had asked her to take care of things for the short while he would be away. The short while turned into months, and then many more months, then a year, and then two, and now the third year was approaching. The butler was shooed away as the nannies gently rested her emerald tiara into her curls. She would then walk to the foyer, the one that she had decorated so long ago, and sit on the leftmost couch as she stared out the window. He was just running late was all she murmured as she gently ran her fingers over the small book’s pages. He’ll be here soon, that's what the letter had said.