Chapter Text
She had waited a few days, a few nights, plagued by dreams that left her wanting, aching for something she did not yet known the taste of. Finally, she sat at her small, neat desk, in her orderly, neat room, and penned a small, neat letter.
Lord Berlitz,
I do not find myself often in the need of issuing apologies, but... with you, I conducted myself deplorably. I am sorry for my hasty leave-taking of the other night. I would like to make recompense somehow. Please inform me of anyway I may make it up to you.
Yours, M.
And she thought, quietly, in the back of her mind, that maybe she was his, even though he'd barely touched her. That night, she pled a headache and left dinner early. Madelyn lay on her bed, thoughts in turmoil, and coiled that golden rope around her pale, pale fingers.
-
He sat behind his desk and read the neatly penned letter, a true smile breaking across his face. Even though it was genuine, the curve of his lips held something terrible as the wheels in his mind turned. He was undeniably pleased by how quickly she'd contacted him, and even more pleased by the way she'd addressed him. Lord Berlitz. Madelyn had referred to herself by a single letter, and that, too, pleased Oscar. It was almost as though she realized her place.
His.
He did not write back.