Patience

Previously

…The fear was still present, a cold knot in her stomach, but it was now tempered by a fierce, exhilarating sense of purpose. She was choosing herself. She was choosing the unknown, the uncertain, the potentially beautiful. With a deep, steadying breath, Eleanor Ainsworth opened the door and stepped out of the gilded cage, into the waiting, uncertain embrace of the night. The faint scent of oil paint and turpentine seemed to drift on the evening breeze, a siren call from a world she was now determined to explore. The scandal was inevitable, but so too, she hoped, was a truer, more vibrant form of happiness.