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Chapter 8
Even as the sun made numerous rounds in the sky and days had passed, Matilda held an anger towards her mother that kept her fist eternally clenched. She paced her room when she was alone. She gritted her teeth at her mother in passing. She remained silent when it came to dinner time. She even went quieter with Ann. The only thing that she had enjoyed at Hardon had been stripped away out of anger, misunderstanding. If her mother assumed that she would suddenly change her belief system because there were no more books around, she was sadly mistaken.
On that day, she stood by her window. From there, the stables were not as visible as the one in the hallway, but every now and then, she could see the rear-end of a horse pop out. All she wanted to really see was anything of Aaron. Because of him, the stables had taken on a majestic feel. They weren’t just horse stables anymore. They were a place that was occupied by one of the only few people to understand her; the only person with the same fondness for having an imagination. In many ways, her mother epitomized the entire Hardon House. Everyone did their jobs with little thought. No one questioned the system of things. No one longed for anything different. Acceptance was not prevalent; it was adorned.
What Matilda would give to just be by those stables for a few moments, to explain herself to Aaron so that he did not think she had suddenly forgotten him. She felt much like some sort of prisoner.
It was just the other day where she had tried to visit the library. She had thought that maybe things had blown over. Despite having her books thrown away, she at least figured that everything else would remain rather the same. But that was not the case in the slightest.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Her mother asked as Matilda tried to enter the library.
“I am entering the library. I may not have my own books, but I can at least—”
“You will do nothing of the sorts. What did you think when I threw away your books-- that meant that you could circumvent my rules and still read whatever you please? It does not work that way, Matilda.”
She watched her mother stand there as if she were a member of the King’s guard. The only thing she could do that day was hang her head and return back to her room.
That was not the only instance where her mother had restricted her freedoms. There was always someone keeping an eye on herwhenever she would venture aroundHardon House. Perhaps her mother had been afraid of her running away or perhaps not, Matilda did not know. All she knew was that her one conversation with her mother had nearly ruined everything. She could not imagine how things could get worse, but before they did last time, she had thought the same. The only way that it could worsen in her mind was if her mother carved out her eyes and really prevented her from reading forever.
She squinted out the window, swearing that she could see the arm of Aaron. But it could have been anyone, to tell the truth. With the boredom piling up over the days, her imagination had begun to get the best of her.
One thing that plagued her was the thought of another girl talking to Aaron. He still had his freedom, and why would someone like him be waiting around for all the complicated things that Matilda brought with her? The thought of him sitting down on a bench at night and kissing someone else was the first time Matilda felt a sense of jealousy. She had never been jealous of anyone ever before. The closest she had come to jealousy was over the characters in her books. Their lives were what she wanted despite her mother’s stubbornness.
With paranoia sinking in and her mind slowly beginning to betray her. Matilda rose from her seat by the window and let out a little stretch. It felt good to not focus on anything, but not good enough. She decided that she needed some fresh air, and the best one to do that with was Ann.
Matilda flattened her plain dress in the mirror and then left the room. Hardon House was quiet on that day. Everyone seemed to move around at a sluggish pace. They looked the same way that Matilda felt. And that made her laugh on the inside.
Along with jealousy, bitterness was a new feeling that she was learning to deal with as well. She would find herself angry when looking at other girls who came to the Hardon House. They seemed so content in the roles that were laid before them. Maybe they had just learned how to fake it really well, but Matilda doubted that notion. She had learned from her mother and herself over the years how to tell when another female is truly happy and when they are just faking it for the public. And most women in Matilda’s eyes loved having everything seemingly mapped out for them.
After navigating Hardon, she eventually found Ann, who ironically was sitting down reading a book. When she spotted Matilda, she placed the thing behind her as if she had committed a crime.
“I am very appreciative that you understand how much it pains me to see another person reading.” Matilda started. “But you are free to touch books around me. I have come to see if you would like to go on a walk.”
Ann gave a gentle nod.
***
Once outside, they leisurely strolled the Hardon grounds. The sun had finally shone brightly without any instances of rain, and the little squirrels scurrying around took a bit of Matilda’s gloom away. The open air had reminded her that there were still beautiful things to enjoy in life. The beauty of nature was something her mother could never strip her of enjoying.
“You are dealing with your punishment in a mature manner, I might say.” Ann started. “I had expected you to be halfway through Hardon on horseback by now.”
“I do not do things on impulse. Sure, I am quite livid with my mother, but running away would be an emotional endeavour—the very same thing as an impulse. If I were to run away, I would say goodbye, and that would mean that everything was planned.”
“You are just like your mother in that respect. Everything with her is—”
“Please do not ever compare me to my mother. There were instances in my argument with her where I realized just how similar we were to one another, and it made me want to scale a wall.”
Ann laughed at that but in a way where she knew that she shouldn’t have laughed. “That is rather unkind. Catherine has admirable qualities that you may disagree with at this point in your life but may come to value years from now.”
Matilda shook her head, listening to the crunching grass beneath their feet. “I am so tired of everyone using my youth as an excuse for my beliefs. I am a grown woman, yet everyone treats me as I am but of ten years of age. Because why? Because I look for the positives in life? Because I see my own life as a story that could be exciting. It angers me that everyone has such a narrow view of what life could be. It is not my fault you are a maid. You could have been more.”
Silence.
Matilda knew that she had crossed a line.
“I apologize.” She said to Ann. “I am just so angry with my mother. She treats everything I believe in like it is a child’s folly. You have always been there for me, Ann. I did not mean to be short.”
“Understood. I hold no ill feelings towards that. I know you are frustrated.”
