The morning dawned bright through the chinks in the heavy brocade curtains. I rose and found a gown of pure cream silk ready for me and put it on and ...pened the drapes. A weary Maria whispered, ‘Ring for breakfast. I need sustenance, you have drained me my darling.’ I pulled the silk cord that dangled by the now diminished fire and moments later Jenkins knocked and entered. She was followed by two servants who laid breakfast upon trays on our bed. Jenkins kissed us both and departed. Was there. Books had lost her, the only world she wanted to escape to was her own previous one. Her art became disturbing and violent, manifesting the pain in her mind. She cleaned when necessary, ate when she remembered to, and slept often. She had become empty.She eventually became unpleasantly aware of what a miserable existence she had accepted, alive but not living. She decided to get out, into fresh air, a world where people talked and did things and had what they considered interesting lives. It. More

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