The church bells tolled in the distance, indicating that Sunday services had finished for the morning.
Aurora wrung her hands nervously, knowing that her father would return soon but she dared not do what she was thinking.
As she smoothed the long ruffles of her skirt, she considered leaving the house for what must have been the hundredth time since Lawrence had left at dawn. Of course she did not; she had little doubt that her father would send the entire town on a search for her if she did.
And what would he do if he found me?
She shuddered to think about it.
Aurora had been given explicit instructions; remain in the salon without food nor water. The fast was penance for her sins.
Another penance, she thought with grim anger. Yet Aurora knew she had no one but herself to blame for what had happened. She could not fault her father for his endless bitterness, not when she had brought it upon herself.
Rising from her seated spot on the settee, she made her way to the front window where she watched a slow trickle of townsfolk pass down the laneway.
Was it her imagination or did her neighbors pause before the lovely house on corner to cast the creamy shutters a disdainful look?
Aurora certainly felt as though all the world stared at her but if she knew that her father had likely kept her secret, despite the sensation that she was being watched endlessly. It had been months, after all. It made little sense that he would rouse the subject now.
My shame is his shame, after all, she thought, stepping back from the window to wrap her shawl tightly around her breastbone.
It was not a cold day but Aurora had been unable to shake the chill which had formed inside her bones weeks ago.
Sometimes, Aurora wondered if she had died too and the cold was simply death's grip on her heart and soul.