Prologue.
Tori Ellis was a delicate creature; one who's fine-boned features and willowy frame gave her the appearance of being wrapped in elegance; an elegance only present in the silent, doleful figures of paintings painstakingly birthed in some darker, simpler time.
She sat quietly in the black iron chair at the corner of the garden, the corner that was abundant with colour and scents as the Lady's Mantel, Sweet William & Peony where in full blossom; next to their splendor her ashy complexion made her appear ghost-like in comparison.

The funeral was over now.
From her seat amongst the flowers and the insects she could see clearly down the graveled path and through the wrought iron gates which were parted soundlessly, standing quiet and tall in their final tribute to coal black hearse which now made it's way up the winding road toward the house.
A hand wrapped itself around her bony shoulder. This sudden contact didn't startle her or make her jump; nor did the sudden surge of shivers that marched themselves through the flimsy fabric of her dowdy black gown and down her spine.

"Are your bags packed?" came the cold, lead voice belonging to that bony hand who's grip had turned just as icy.
Tori made not a sound but instead, nodded slowly in answer. A piece of hair wrestled free from the messy bun which sat at the nape of her slender neck and settled, like a piece of silken auburn ribbon, against her freckled cheek which, by now, was flushed pink with the cold.

The grip tightened on her shoulder.
"Good" came the voice again. "We're all very sad to see you go, Ms. Ellis, but it's what Madam wanted".

With one final vice-like squeeze the hand removed itself from her shoulder and, counting the leaving footsteps in her head, Tori sighed quietly and rose slowly from her chair. Picking a lily white Peony from a nearby bush she floated across the stone ground of her balcony garden and wrapped her delicate fingers around the guards; they were refreshingly warm as her quiet corner had been sheltered from the warm June sun.
She closed her eyes and felt the warmth creep from her fingertips and spread like ivy through her veins. Taking a deep breath she savored the smells of the flowers, the grass, the pond one last time, oh God how she would miss this place.
Opening her eyes she brushed the soft petals of the Peony against her cheek then tossed it into the murky pond which lay just below her balcony.

"Goodbye, grandmother" she said softly. "Goodbye Applely Hall".
She turned on her heel and walked toward the French windows which opened inward toward the darkness of her bedroom.
Resting her long fingers against the chipping frames she glanced over her shoulder and whispered: "Goodbye, Tori"

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