(4) Every Friday Morning
Every Friday morning her excitement seemed to return in full. Her golden eyes seemed ablaze with hope this morning. She rose as the sun did, hurriedly bursting through the double doors of her quarters and out into the hall. After a quick apology she would be running, bare feet padding against the carpets and hair flying in its loose tangles behind her. In moments she would go from her room to the main entrance of the house, throwing the doors open right as the postal men had reached to knock. As usual, they politely greeted her and quickly turned to face away or look at their letters. Smartly avoiding staring at her directly or glancing at her for too long, wanting to hurriedly deliver their mail and be on their way before the glares from the nannies and butlers burned holes through their hats. They handed over the thick stack to the head of the servants, the younger of the two murmuring an apology to the mistress. They had no letter for her today, the two of them knew how much she looked forward to receiving them. When they left she was quiet as she was escorted to a seat where she remained in a saddened state. It wasn't until a finely dressed butler knocked on the door, demanding to hand the letter to her in person did she run to the entrance to see who it was. The butler announced that he had a letter for her, from Lord Contrell. Quickly she took the letter before he even had the chance to finish his speech as she ripped it open.
‘It's from Uncle, he is with father and they are coming home.’