Flash Fiction: Lady of the Manor
It was a sunny day in Nashville, Tennessee. The curtains were drawn back, allowing the afternoon light to flood the walk-in closet of the master bedroom. Bridget stood with her hips leaning against the marble island – one hand clutching a glass of champagne and the other cradling a string of pearls.
She draped the pearls across her chest and turned to face the mirror. Beethoven’s 5th Symphony played softly in the background filling the Bailey Manor with sweet music. Bridget began to sashay around the room as she imagined herself dancing the night away at the upcoming State ball. She could see the chandeliers dripping with crystals as she was dipped in a Waltz. She looked back at the mirror.
“The pearls do look striking against my black dress,” she thought to herself.
As a child, she had always wondered what life would be like if she were the Lady of a stately Manor such as this. She gulped down the champagne in one go. Well, she didn’t have to imagine any longer.
In the far distance, a bell chimed. The ominous dings were a reminder that play time was over, there was work to be done. She gently placed the pearls back in the jewelry drawer. The diamond earrings and cuffs were returned as well. With a few brisk steps, she hurried out of the master bedroom. She heard the keys in the lock just as she tied her white apron and picked up the feather duster.
“Welcome home, Lady Bailey,” Bridget said,
“Thank you, my dear,” replied the Lady of the manor.