Ghost Story

[Marian Hawke]

"What about me," grumbles Marian in a sulky tone. 

[Leandra Hawke ne Amell]

Drake steps forward, his best charming grin in place. "Sorry about this, Lady--"

"Get out of my home before I have you flogged and dumped outside of town," Leandra says coldly, eying the wasterl with bitter disgust. The nineteen year old falters, paling, and swallows weakly before fleeing. He doesn't even bother to say a word to Marian. "Explain yourself, Marian."

[Marian Hawke]

Why bother? "I was working," she says, spying Carver lingering in the doorway and scowling at him. "And then I spent some time with Drake before he walked me home."

[Leandra Hawke ne Amell]

"Working?" Leandra asks, taken aback. Why is she working? We're above that sort of thing now.

[Marian Hawke]

Oops. "For pocket money. Since you never give me any. Just cutting some hay for Farmer Johnson."

[Leandra Hawke ne Amell]

"And why should you get pocket money?" Leandra gripes sourly. "Well, that's over with. I won't have you shame our family's name more by working as a common labourer."

[Marian Hawke]

"I'll be seventeen in a month," she reminds her mother. "You can't control me then."

[Leandra Hawke ne Amell]

Leandra's lips press into a thin line. "No? So you'll be moving out then? Supporting yourself entirely?"

[Marian Hawke]

"Maybe I will. What of it? Maybe I'll go live with Drake."

[Leandra Hawke ne Amell]

"Then off with you. Go on, live with your wastrel boyfriend," Leandra sneers. "Ruin your life like you ruined your sister's."

[Marian Hawke]

"Maybe I'll go today, and have you arrested for losing track of me," she snaps. "You have to raise me until I'm seventeen."

[Leandra Hawke ne Amell]

A harsh laugh is the first answer Marian gets to that. "As if you'd risk getting that sort of attention on yourself. The sin in you, you'll burn brightly girl."

[Marian Hawke]

Marian takes half a step back, stomach roiling. She can't stop it this time; the blow was as unexpected as it was cruel. She doubles over, retching up bile onto the floor -- a familiar feeling, between her secret purging and how often she's triggered like this. 

[Leandra Hawke ne Amell]

A pang of guilt and shame hits Leandra and she sighs. "Go to bed, Marian. Wash up and go to bed. I'll call a servant to clean that up." She hesitates, then adds, "and to send some herbal tea up to you."

[Carver Amell]

At least I didn't have to clean it up, the diary concludes. I'm so tired of her drama. Why's she always have to be the center of attention?