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Chapter 21
Matilda collapsed on her bed and kicked off her shoes. She had not done anything physically tiring that day, but mentally, she just had nothing left. Her sadness was getting worse and worse by the day. Her motivation and hope had dwindled to the lowest that it had ever been. She didn’t quite know what to do. Life was dictating to her how it was going to be, and Matilda was losing the desire to fight.
The bed felt good beneath her. That was the only thing that seemed to make her happy any more, the act of laying down and sleeping. When it came to being awake, there just wasn’t anything to look forward to. And part of her allowed herself to get that way because it sent a clear message to her mother. She was hurt. She was sad. And if she didn’t get the future she wanted, that pain and sadness would only get worse. Maybe she would see it and change her ways. That was the only bit of hope that Matilda had left, and even that was slowly dwindling.
Matilda had wanted to go to sleep but knew that trying that early would get her nowhere. Since arriving in Bath, she had suffered from terrible sleepless nights to the point where she would break out into a sweat. Prolonging going to sleep as late as possible would help her to get tired and fall asleep more naturally. But even that wasn’t a safe bet anymore.
The night that preceded her had been yet another monotonous, pointless night. Her mother had been desperately trying to find her a suitor, but things just weren’t going in that direction. Matilda didn’t want to want to think about it all, but in a room with no entertainment and nothing to do, there really was no choice. Her life had become her reality, and there was no longer an escape.
Her mother, on the other hand, had been in better spirits, proud of her accomplishment at Matilda away from the things that she deemed her distractions and into a life that left her little control. Everyday felt stifling. Every day felt as though it was stripping Matilda of her identity, and why was that? It was because day after day, Matilda had been forced to try her hand at meeting another potential suitor. At first, to Matilda’s own disdain, she had found the process somewhat exciting, but with the man she truly cared about in the back of her mind, that excitement proved to not be real.
The other thing that surprised Matilda to an extent was the fact that she could indeed imagine herself marrying some of the men that she had been presented with.
There was the tall and charismatic Alexander who lived in Bath. He was quick with wit and smooth in his speech. Her mother had brought him in on the second day, and Matilda had found him attractive for all of five minutes and then she lost interest. She could have envisioned herself marrying him, but the idea fizzled out.
Then there was Henry, a man who looked as though he were the definition of a man. His arms were hairy, his chest was big, his voice was deep, and the way he moved seemed as though his own muscles weighed him down. With Henry, the attraction laid in the mystery of him. What was it like to kiss a man like that? But again, once Matilda had thought about her true love, Henry and the others were simply no match. They were far better than Charles, yes, but no one matched the desire she had for Aaron. There was a part of her that knew that it would continue to be that way. Perhaps her mother had known it too, given her reaction to each of Matilda’s rejections. It made Matilda happy that she could witness her mother go through the same feelings as she did—losing hope.
It had been a month since sheand her mother had arrived in Bath and made it their temporary home. The place was not at all bad, maybe even somewhat cosier than Hardon, as Hardon always felt rather cold. Despite living there her entire life, the ironic thing was that Matilda had not found a sense of strong love for the place until meeting Aaron. He had the ability to make anything attractive, from horse rides to the future, all the way down tositting on a bench in secret outside a party. That memory still made her heart flutter. She missed him more than even her books.
Thomas and Ann had also spent some occasional time in Bath with them, sharing their time also with Hardon. Ann was still her biggest supporter, but she had also turned into someone that helped Matilda learn the news that she was not supposed to know.
“Aaron was immediately fired the next day.” Ann had told her.
“And where had he gone off too? Have you spoken with him?”
“I have not, nor do I know his whereabouts. I’ve heard that he went to find you after his firing, but given all the time that has passed, I don’t know where that journey of his stands.” Ann wore a disappointed face when explaining that to her. Even though it wasn’t the best of news, Matilda was happy that she still had people supporting her.
Thomas was also someone that had begun to support her. She had never been close with the man growing up, but it was dully evident that he was on her side because of the friendship he had developed with Aaron. He looked after her the best he could without raising any red flags. He even went as far as sabotaging some of the potential suitors that Catherine continued to line up for Matilda.
“Did he speak of me often?” Matilda asked as if Aaron was some sort of mythical creatures only spoken about in books.
Thomas had let out a short laugh. “He spoke about you more than he would have liked. He would often tie you into our conversations, and when he caught himself, you could see that he felt like he had no control over the matter. As did you, I only knew Aaron for a short time, but I could tell that he was not a man who enjoyed losing control of himself.
That was information that made Matilda blush to the very day. What she would give to just see Aaron once more. She wondered how he was doing and if he had still been trying to find her. She knew that writing him letters would get her nowhere. They would surely be intercepted, if not by the steward, then her mother, and if not by her mother, then that wicked Addison. There was nowhere to communicate with Aaron. Even if he had shown up in Bath, no one would ever let him get close to her.
The whole situation tested her notion of what it was to hold onto hope. How could she when the odds appeared so impossible? There didn’t appear to be any solution.
She did write one letter, though, and she was shocked to realize that she had received a reply even. The letter had not been written to Aaron as that would have been folly to even try. But instead, she had written the letter to Charles.
Matilda’s thinking behind that was Charles had more power than someone like Ann or Thomas. Mixed with their long friendship, perhaps there would have been something, anything that Charles could have done to help. It was her last resort in terms of finding outside assistance. She thought that maybe he could have even talked some sense into her mother. But his reply had only informed her of his own engagement. He did promise to help Aaron if he ever saw him again, but she knew not to put any hope into that. Charles had found his muse, his happiness. He most likely did not want to be involved in a scandal. Matilda felt bad about it, but she was jealous. She wanted exactly what Charles had. The double standard was not lost on her. There was no sense in dwelling on that, though.
That day, after thinking about everything in succession, she realized that there may not be an out. Bath was a big town with more men than woman in it. This was known because it was primarily a town where things were designed and made. Most men chose to make Bath their home to avoid long daily travel. Of course, she would not be suited with a commoner. But because of the wealth that resided in the town, there also lived many men of status in the town as well. This meant that no matter how long Matilda kept up in her rejections, her mother would surely grow tired of it and find someone among the population for her eventually.
And Matilda was tired. She had begun to feel weary in having to fight all the time. She had never defined herself as a fighter. A dreamer, someone that imagined things and carried a positive perspective of the world ahead, that was who she felt herself to be. But a fighter, no, she was nothing of the sort.
She wanted to cry. And that was a fight in and of itself. Because she did not want to allow the tears to be present. That would do nothing but essentially lead to her mother winning even more. She would not be weak. Matilda may have lost hope and the desire to fight, but she refused to bend the knee completely.
Perhaps she was to find a suitor that she liked. Maybe the best revenge was to be happy and forget about all the scandal that surrounded her. One day she would have her own family and could read all the books she wanted without anyone to tell her otherwise. The notion that it would not be Aaron to share that all with was enough to quell that perspective instantly.
And so, Matilda rolled over to go to sleep even though she had still been fully dressed. She did her best to clear her mind and not be sad. Her technique for ridding herself of sleepless nights had been to simply not think. If she avoided any bad thoughts, she could fall asleep sooner and then sleep for hours, avoiding all the nastiness her life had become.
But then, she heard a few softs taps on her window. Instantly, her heart began to race. It was finally something to break the routine that plagued her.
But then she thought it to be crazy. Who would knock on her window? No one cared about her like that, and the ones that did had done everything they could to help her. The taps were nothing more than her wild imagination drumming up a false hope once more. It was most likely the tree outside brushing up against the glass because of the wind. Life was not like stories. There would be nothing to just show up and save her.
And then, the tapping continued. It annoyed her. It made her want to scream. The only thing that she had left, that was hers, that no one could mess with and ruin was sleep. It was an escape, a way out of her dreary unfulfilling life. And suddenly, there was a tree and breeze that wanted to take that too away from her. Life was not fair. Life was not fair in the slightest.
For a second or two, the tapping stopped, and Matilda shut her eyes once more. She could go to sleep.
But then it started again. She sat up, punched her pillow and left the bed to go to the window. What she would do to the tree, there probably wasn’t anything that she could. But her anger needed to make a statement to the force of nature anyway.
And then she saw him, the soft eyes, stubble ridden face with a small smirk in the centre. Aaron Masters was balancing precariously on the tree branch. She thought that she might faint at the sight of him—that or cry.
Neither happened, and instead, Matilda stood there for a moment frozen in shock. That was until Aaron waved her over. She went quickly, fearful that he’d tumble right out of the tree.
She threw open the window and looked every which way to make sure that no one had seen the very inappropriate and rule-breaking situation. Aaron travelled along the branch, and they both met in an embrace. Matilda did not want to let go. A flood of memories and sensations came rushing back to her, and with how fast they came, she thought that she may faint all over again. But just like before, she did not. She just soaked in the moment with everything she had, grateful for the hug alone.
“Meet me down below, Matilda.”
