Fortune seems to be smiling on me of late. That is something that I am not accustomed to.
Not only was I taken from the lake at a crucial moment and my life saved in the bargain, but I was also forgiven by Haldrid for my unwitting cruelty toward his unspoken thoughts. There, I thought, it would have ended, but I was wrong once again.
We spent a long afternoon talking, he and I. A walk along the Scholars Stair and a halt to admire the view above the rooftops; so simple and platonic, yet so pleasant and comfortable. He asked me if I trust him, to my surpise I could only answer that I did. It is rare for me to find trust so easily, but there is something about this man that demands it of me. That bothers me a little, I must admit, for trust is such a fragile thing and is broken so easily. It is better, I feel, to be careful about whom one places ones trust in rather than giving it freely. Nevertheless, I closed my eyes at his request and found myself further surprised when he placed a gentle kiss against my cheek.
I was not entirely certain what to make of that. In truth, I still am not. It was sweet and thoughtful, yet somehow out of place against his customary reticence. Of course, I doubt my preference for keeping my distance and his awareness of my dislike for physical contact does anything but encourage such reservation - a situation for which I can find no regret at this time. All the same, I later returned his favour; placing a kiss upon his cheek. In an effort to keep my balance whilst standing on the tips of my toes to do so, I was forced to place my hand against his chest and, shockingly, forgot to withdraw it afterwards. He placed his hand over mine then and I found myself almost reluctant to release that tenuous contact when he later had to leave. I must wonder what has come over me.
Further to these strange but pleasant occurances is the letter I recieved earlier today. I had not expected one, especially not one of such an offical-looking nature. The writing upon it was carefuly scripted and precise, almost exquisite in its flourishes. The message therein was one of mixed blessings, I feel.
It would seem that my father had an uncle. He never mentioned one to me, but then I saw him so rarely that it is no surprise. This unknown uncle, however, has died. That news alone is sad in and of itself for even though I have never met this mysterious member of my small family, it now seems that I never will. Still, he willed his belongings to my father it seems but, given that my father expired with with my life in Archet so long ago, these items have now been bequeathed to me. The courier apologised in taking so long to bring this to my attention, only they had known that I had survived Archet but had been quite unable to find me until now. That, too, comes as no surprise for I have gone out of my way to remain unknown and unnoticed insofar as I can. My reputation as a seamstress, however, is beginning to grow - I may have to put a stop to that.
All the same, I thanked the man for his dilligence in finding me and, after studying the letter for a goodly while and gaining the opinion of Flannery as to the authenticity of its contents, I departed Bree in order to see this sudden inheritance for myself.
I had known it would be a house; the letter had stated as much. What I had not expected was the sheer size of the building. This uncle had lived in such a large place for years, alone? I had wondered how he could possibly have hoped to keep the place in good condition and, after fighting with the lock for a while, I managed to make my way inside to recieve the answer; he had not. It is a large and airy place, but quite run down, brimming to the rafters with cobwebs and dust. Much of the furniture is still hardy, though, and will be suitable for use after a good cleaning. It will take time, of course, to make it habitable again but that should give me a project to work on aside from the making of clothing.
All in all, it would seem that my fortune is improving. I cannot help but wonder when it will take yet another downward spiral, leaving me floundering beneath the crushing weight of despair once more. It always does, sooner rather than later.
