The cards for this were “servant” and “frozen slice of wedding cake.” I feel like this could have been rounded out a bit better, but I like the general idea of it.
It was while she was sorting through and taking stock of what was in the freezer that she found it. The slice of wedding cake from Master Yarrow’s magnificently lavish nuptials the year before. Diana paused and ran a finger over the clear container, staring at the delicate floral design of the cream frosting. The tradition was to eat the frozen slice on the first year’s anniversary, but a part of her wondered how appropriate it would be now. She debated internally over whether to remind Master Yarrow of the cake slice or not.
It had all started with the fresh cake after all. Master Yarrow was a quiet and serious man, and many had wondered how he had captured the heart of the young and beautiful Annalisa. Or even why he would want to – Annalisa had no family, and very little to her name. Despite her poor circumstance, Annalisa was full of life, spirited. Everyone recognized her by her laugh, which was loud and melodic, and everyone loved her dearly. But she always seemed a bit much for Master Yarrow. Everyone whispered that perhaps he was secretly quite charmed by her spirit, as everyone else was. That in private he must show her a different side of himself, a side that softened and smiled and indulged, a side that no one else saw.
It was the wedding that proved everyone wrong, showed everyone how unfit they were for each other. Especially when they cut into the cake. A sillier tradition, smashing the cake into your new spouse’s face – and sometimes a tense one. Annalisa had taken a small handful of the confection and pushed it onto Master Yarrow’s face, smearing it along the hard set line of his jaw. At first there was some mild laughter, but the stony expression on Yarrow’s face as he wiped away the cream and glared disapprovingly at his bride brought an uncomfortable hush over the entire ceremony. She had laughed it off and helped him clean up, but everyone had seen the unbridled hate there already.
Diana and the other servants had then watched with concern over the following months. At first, it was Annalisa’s laughter that disappeared. It grew quieter, less boisterous. She became pale. Then it was the small injuries she seemed to sustain. Bruises around her wrists, as though she had spent hours bound too tight. She had spent a week wearing a high-necked dress, and her personal maid had whispered amongst the other staff that she had a hand shaped bruise there, and bite marks on her shoulder. She spent one whole month limping, and on occasion suppressed a wince when she sat.
She became like a ghost of Annalisa, hardly more than vapor that haunted the hallways and rarely left her rooms. What had once been full of life and color was wilted to grays. If the staff brought concerns to Master Yarrow, they were dismissed. If they brought outsiders, Master Yarrow reminded them quite coldly that his wife was his matter and no one else’s. There was no family to check on her, and her many friends had long since been uninvited. A month ago there had been an incident where half the staff had been wakened, hearing her screams. But when they arrived at her doors, Master Yarrow was there, sternly turning them away.
That was the last anyone had seen of her. The servants whispered that she must be dead, but Yarrow carried food into her room, and came out with empty plates. He ate his own meals as usual and did not seem to be gaining extra weight, nor was there any unusual smell coming from the room.
Taking a deep breath and making up her mind, Diana pulled the cake slice from the freezer. She placed it on a tray and carried it to Master Yarrow’s office, rapping quietly at the door. When his voice summoned her in, she took one step inside and paused, holding the tray in front of her. “Master, the frozen slice of your wedding cake. It’s tradition to share it with your spouse upon the first anniversary. Would you like it to be thawed for the occasion?”
There was a long silence. Diana studied Yarrow from under her lashes – he was a stern looking man, all hard lines and edges, with a sharp nose and a deep-set brow. He stared at the cake slice, then gestured for Diana to place it on his desk. “I’ll take it to my wife later. Perhaps I will smear it on her face this time,” he said. Despite the statement, his voice and face were completely without humor. Diana placed the cake down, folding the tray under her arms in front of her and suppressing a shiver.
mehryment 