The Man in the Window ch. 4The Man in the Window ch. 4 by Boxjelly1
The house was in a deep sleep long before Miss Rose finally retired, retreating at last to the sanctuary of a closed door, a warm bed, and the ignorance of a few hours solitude. Even Becky had been asleep by the time she had finished with her extra task. So, not wanting to wake her, she had left the spool outside the girl’s room in the attic. A small folded paper beneath it described the basic guidelines for preforming the Smyrna Cross Stitch, an advanced technique she would begin instructing her oldest students on in a few weeks.
For the sake of comfort, and with a desperate need to unwind from the day’s labors, Miss Rose opened her bedroom window before sitting at her small vanity, basking in the gentle warmth of a late summer breeze that rolled in off the night like a wave from the sea. She closed her eyes as she breathed in the perfect evening air, reveling for a moment in the bliss of a receding heat that whispered coyly of the coming chill. It warmed her whi
The Man in the Window ch.2The Man in the Window ch.2 by Boxjelly1
Miss Emily Rose stood at the foot of the stair. One by one she greeted the girls as they came down for their morning breakfast. The young women of Miss Minchin’s Boarding School were still wiping sleep from their eyes. The ribbons at the ends of their braids swung loosely in lazy knots that said it was too early for their mistresses to properly tie them. She smiled in amusement. No doubt they would complain to one another about how early they were forced to rise. Little did they know that Miss Rose had been awake now for several hours, running errands for the kitchen staff, pressing the girl’s laundry, and setting up today’s lesson plans. But she didn’t really mind. It was the busy routine of life that she had grown accustomed to.
Ermengarde, the poor sweet girl, was always the last to rise. When Miss Rose greeted her at the end of her hurried flight downstairs she glanced up through the balustrade, searching for the one student she had not yet seen.
The Man in the WindowThe Man in the Window by Boxjelly1
The Man in the Window
Those first days were the hardest for the little princess. Sarah had been through times without her father before, when he was called away for military duty or to see to the concerns on the front, but he had always seemed close by. Now as she spoke those magic words that promised they would see each other again, and after only the ghost of his strong presence was left standing behind her, she couldn’t help the shallow feeling that this time it was different.
But the soldier in her knew better and during that time there was nothing Sarah had been more thankful for, than her assurance that he would return.
There had been many of those who had provided their own rays of hope and encouragement to the young girl. Miss Rose, for example, who had always been there to soften the sting after one of Miss. Minchin’s crueler punishments. And Ram Dass, whose kindness knew no bounds and who acted as a guardian to the child when she was left with nothing.
The Man in the Window ch.1The Man in the Window ch.1 by Boxjelly1
Those initial days were masked lightly in the honey heat of a leftover summer. Autumn was in the city, though it had steadily drifted in for weeks. Now the drone of traffic and the steam of industry all wafted together in the wake of rolling carriage wheels and marching soldiers. The heat wouldn’t last for much longer and soon it would be gone. The last of the heavy comforting haze that seemed to sing so sweetly of home would fade, making way for a cold British winter to come rolling in off the sea.
From the top most window of his master’s estate, Ram Dass could almost see the cold billowing. Churning over the waves in the distant bay and bidding its time before a sudden decent. The Lascar had been under the honorable Lord Wickham’s employment for several years now, and as such was accustomed to London’ cold and foggy demeanor. But it still never failed to affect him, watching the last of the blessed warmth be so frivolously carried away, and with it t