Upon the wall hung a beautiful white wedding dress made in intricate detail for a woman of slim proportions. What I would give to simply wear a dress as elegant as that for just a minute. It seemed to glitter and shine in the candle’s light which hung from a banister on the wall. The next thing I saw was a desk; upon it were mountains of letters and envelopes. A small wooden chest also sat on this desk, which was ajar and showed an assortment of beautiful, elegant jewellery, fit for a queen. But the beautiful dress and the breath taking jewellery were not the most amazing things in this room. My mouth dropped open and my heart seemed to falter when my eyes found the large portrait of a young and beautiful woman hanging from the wall. It was a ridiculously accurate painting held in an ornate gold frame. The sheer talent put into this masterpiece was not what caught and held my attention though.
Her long black her fell past her shoulders and began curling into elegant ringlets towards the end, her crystal blue eyes gazed in silent humour at the painter, and her full lips were hitched in an amused smile. This was the face of a lovely, happy woman, content with her life.
She looked exactly like me.
There was one difference however. She looked happy, and well rested, where as I had constant bags under my eyes as though I had not slept for days, and I was quite sure that I was not as pretty as this lady. She exemplified pure radiance, where as I was dull and generally unkempt. Who was this woman? And why were her possessions being kept, hidden away in this secret room? No doubt she had been quite rich, like most of the Forsythe family. But who was she to Noah?
I had become so shocked by the painting that I hadn’t even noticed Noah sitting on a stool and reading over some of the letters from the desk, no doubt. He hadn’t even noticed me standing, half hidden by darkness, in the doorway. At his feet was a shattered bottle of unknown liquid. It was strong and sickly sweet, and somewhat stung my nose like ammonia. Alcohol of some sort. I had only ever seen him drink wine before.
It seemed I had intruded upon something very personal to him. I would be in very bad trouble if I was discovered here.
Gulping I took a step back, trying to be as quiet as possible. Of course, when one attempts to be quiet, one usually finds themselves making more noise than intended. This was such a case. I misjudged the distance between myself and the first step, and to my utter horror fell on my back which seared painfully as it came in contact with the hard stairs. I let out an involuntary gasp of pain and bit down on my lip. That would bruise. No doubt I would be discovered now.
I heard a clattering as the stool fell to the floor, and Noah was in the doorway within a second. He seemed to sway slightly as he squinted down at me.
I was on the floor, halfway between getting up and deciding to curl into a ball until this nightmare passed. I held my breath as I waited for Noah to yell, to scream, to drag me away by my hair and have me flogged. I deserved it for entering his secret room, his shrine to the unknown woman who looked like me. This was obviously who Camryn and Jack had been referring to, but I still did not know who she was.
Noah’s breathing was heavy and laboured, and I could tell he was very drunk. I had no idea that he preferred something stronger to wine. I waited for the first blow to come.
“Madeline?” Noah breathed, unsure. He sounded scared, and I wasn’t quite sure what to say.
“Noah, I-” I began to apologise, but as I said his name it seemed to act as a stimulant. I realised then that I had never called him by his first name before, in person.
He hurried forwards and wrenched me from the ground and crushed me to his chest. He stank of alcohol so bad that my nose burned from the smell. I didn’t know what to do. He didn’t seem to realise who I was anymore.
“Noah, please-” I tried again in a muffled voice against his chest.
“Oh, Madeline.” Noah cupped my face in his hands and I stopped breathing altogether, “I thought you were dead, but you came back to me, just like I prayed.”
“No, you’ve made a mistake-” I wanted to explain. Madeline was obviously the pretty woman in the painting and Noah was so drunk he hadn’t realised who I was. I was cut off mid-sentence as Noah’s lips came crashing down onto mine, urgent and harsh. This was not what I had expected for my first kiss. His breath stank and his arms wound around me tightly, holding me in place against him. I tried to wriggle away, but Noah didn’t seem to notice. His mouth was soft despite the urgency, shaping against mine and parting my lips. His breath washed over me, and I started pushing at his chest.
Finally, he pulled away and stared down at me. My face was contorted into an expression of confusion and hurt. I now understood why Noah had taken such an interest to me in the first place. I was nothing, nothing to him except a look-a-like of his dead wife. This realisation tore at my heart. How stupid I had been to think that this beautiful man had ever had an interest in me, Avalon Redding. A sob caught in my throat and tears threatened to flow.
Noah held me to his chest, “It’s all right, my love. We’re together again.”
“No, Noah, you don’t understand.” I protested, “I’m not Madeline. I’m Ava. You’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re saying. I’m sorry I came down here, I was just looking for you.” My voice pleaded for forgiveness.
“Ava?” Noah’s voice formed my abbreviated name uncertainly. He held me at an arm’s length, studying me; his bloodshot eyes slightly unfocused.
I nodded and sniffed back my tears. I did not want to cry in front of him again, no matter how mad or hurt I was. I would surely be in trouble when Noah came to his senses.