We read together in her room. I help below stairs. My guilt for what they are all suffering makes me do it. Most are so much kinder to me now. I sniff at the irony. I must suffer violation, almost hung as a murderer, in order to gain their respect, their kindness. I no longer want it. Only Mrs. Briggs stays true to herself. She hates me more than ever. I don't care.
I creep up to my room, having spent hours in the kitchen, helping Chef Pasquale, helping the kitchen maids clean up until the room sparkles like new. I exhaust myself. It's the only way I can sleep.
I open the door to my room. Even without lighting a lamp, I see the piece of paper on my bed. I rush to it, grab it, read it.
Pack your things, say goodbye to your father, and meet me beneath the beeches. P
I stand there for a l
