安装成人播放器

She couldn’t wait to get a glimpse of what her grandmother looked like as she could not picture the woman in her mind. Alessandra tried to control her excitement in case she would be let down once she got to meet her grandmother.

From the window, she watched a slender older woman with shoulder-length hair step out of the carriage. Alessandra noticed they had the same striking green eye color she inherited from her mother.

“Sally, please open the door,” Alessandra said.

Sally had been standing behind Alessandra the whole time as she needed to aid Alessandra with whatever she wanted. Whether it be bringing drinks, and snacks, or getting Edgar if Alessandra wanted her grandmother gone.

Sally moved to open the door, rubbing her arms as the cold air immediately nipped at her. She could not wait for winter to be over so there wasn’t a constant need to wear a coat. Sally inspected the woman making her way up the steps and just like Alessandra she couldn’t help but wonder if this woman would be any different than the Barretts.

“Welcome to the house of the Duke and Duchess Collins. They have been anticipating your arrival. Please come inside,” Sally ushered the woman in.

Wilma Cromwell was in awe of the position her granddaughter had found herself in by marrying a Duke. She wondered if it was Desmond’s connection that got her granddaughter to marry such a man but what was going on with the inheritance?

“Duchess Alessandra Collins,” Sally pointed to where Alessandra stood.

.....

Wilma froze for a moment at the sight of someone who greatly resembled her beloved daughter. There were certain features to distinguish her granddaughter from her daughter but Alessandra did look like a young version of her mother.

“Hello. It is good to finally see you after all these years. You were so tiny when I last saw you,” Wilma said, her eyes softening as she remembered holding Alessandra when she was a little baby and then once more when Alessandra was a few years older.

Alessandra could only smile as she did not have any memories of her grandmother. To not be rude she said, “Good afternoon. It is nice to have you here.”

Wilma smiled, feeling like she was being greeted like a stranger but she had to remember she was a stranger to Alessandra. There was so much awkwardness between the two of them that she did not try to make an attempt to hug Alessandra

“I’ve prepared a space for us to sit and talk. I hope the trip to Lockwood wasn’t too harsh with all the snow,” Alessandra said.

“The snow here is nothing compared to where I live. Is your family home?” Wilma asked, curious about Alessandra’s family.

“Only my husband is home and I have no children yet so it is just the two of us here. What about my grandfather?” Alessandra asked as they started to walk to the waiting room.

“He wanted to visit to see you but his doctor advised us it would not be a good decision. Your grandfather has never had the best health and as the years went on he became weaker. He can no longer leave his bed without someone’s help. He regrets that he cannot be here today,” Wilma replied.

“I see,” Alessandra muttered, taken aback by the state of her grandfather. It made sense why they were never in Lockwood.

Wilma and Alessandra sat on chairs facing each other while Sally left to get something warm for Wilma to drink after traveling in the cold.

“I am sorry that I have not been around for all these years. We saw you frequently when you were a little baby and then I think it was your third birthday. We didn’t intentionally stay away from you dear,” Wilma said, hoping Alessandra understood they did care for her.

“So,” Alessandra started, ready to hear the entire story. “What happened for us to only meet years later when I am this age?”

“I don’t know what exactly happened but Melanie asked us to stop visiting the house often. I didn’t understand why when it wasn’t like my husband and I made constant trips to Lockwood. We visited when your grandfather was well and we wanted to see the two of you. I thought maybe Desmond felt like we would get too involved in his family,” Wilma figured because he always looked annoyed when they were present.

“One day, the gates wouldn’t open for us to see Melanie. We stayed in town a few more days and spoke with your mother on the last day. She told us it wasn’t necessary for us to visit and she would write to us. I didn’t like that but I didn’t want to make trouble for her. Sometime later, news reached us that Melanie had run away from Desmond so I returned alone. Once again your father would not let me inside the gates or speak to me,” Wilma said, becoming shaken up as she remembered the fear that something grave happened to her daughter.

“I went to the guards but there was nothing much they could do. They spoke with Desmond and concluded it was another case of an unhappy wife running away from her husband. I didn’t think that was the case because Melanie had not run and come to me. While we tried to find her, I offered to help raise you but Desmond denied it and warned me to stay out of his and your life.”

“Did you ever try reaching out to me as the years went on?” Alessandra asked, needing to know how much Wilma had tried.

Wilma didn’t understand Alessandra’s question when they had communicated over the years. “Of course, I reached out to you. Don’t you remember the letters we sent? I still have the ones you sent back to me. I wanted to visit you but with your grandfather’s health I had to settle for your letters.”

“Letters?” Alessandra asked, not having the slightest clue about letters. How could she write to someone she did not know? “I did not send you any letters nor did I read any letters from you.”

“What do you mean, dear? For eight straight years, I sent you letters and you always replied. I even sent you gifts on your birthdays. You told me about your love of painting so I would send you brushes, paint, and canvas. Plus a bit of money in case I ever bought the wrong thing. I even brought the letters to show you I saved them. Where?” Wilma looked to her side for the letters. “My silly mind. I forgot them in the carriage.”

The more Wilma spoke about letters the more confused Alessandra became. She did receive gifts to paint with but it wasn’t on her birthdays. Her father would bring them to her on normal days as something for her to pass time with.

‘Is it possible that those were my grandmother’s gifts?’ Alessandra thought.

“Excuse me,” Wilma said as she stood. “I will get the letters to bring back your memories.”