Post by Charity Delice no Lefebvre on Mar 3, 2011 12:25:28 GMT -5
The day had come.
It was finally here, the day that I would be brought to the Lefebvre household, no longer to serve the Comte, but his daughter, the Comtesse. Rumours had been whispered about her, about the situation with her uncle who was now in gaol, spending his life there, withering and wasting away because apparently he had done the most unmentionable, unfathomable thing that any d'Angeline could do, aside from treason. He had broken Elua's sacred precept and forced himself on his niece and his own guilt had driven him to turn himself in. It was... odd. Of course, those who had heard of it felt sorry for the new Comtesse, but I, well I was terrified to enter into such a broken household, lacking love, and with such unrest, and worried that the woman I would be serving would be cold after what had been done to her.
Plus there were the rumours that had spread. There was not much said about her, but there were words amongst the lesser classes, possibly started from her own household servants, noone knew, about how she was like two different people. Kind and benevolent on one side, but bitter, cold and harsh on the other. Of course, again, these were just rumours. Nonetheless, they terrified me. I was but a child, and I was leaving the only home I had known to be inducted into the house of a stranger.
"Why momma," I had asked her, tears streaming down my face. "Why must I leave you and pappa and sissy? Why do I have to go to this terrible woman!?" I had cried out, shaking, my hands balled into fists.
"Because it is better for you, my dear. She is not terrible, I promise," she had reassured me, wiping away the tears with a ripped handkerchief that smelled of her fragrance. It smelled of home, and safety. And though her words were strong, the look on her face made me wonder whether they were completely the truth. In that moment, I swore they hated me, all my family who claimed they loved me so and claimed that this change, this move was for the better. It was for my best interest. But how could leaving the only people I loved, the only people who knew me and let me be as I was, how could this be good in any way?
"She will teach you many things about the world, and perhaps you will be able to rise up in esteem and marry yourself a lovely man one day, and Andraiya will help you achieve this," she had said, her kind fingers, though tired and not soft at all, stroked through my hair lovingly. I leaned against her palm, turning my face towards it to kiss it with soft lips, and feeling the wetnes that had dripped down my cheek and was now on her hand, press against my lips. My tears were salty, and I licked my lips as I turned away from her hand.
"But... can I not leave some other time, in a few years? When I am older? I have much to learn here too, momma, who will care for you and pappa when sissy gets married away? How can I help when I am there with her, going wither she goes?" I had asked, still hoping that my words would change their minds. My momma had smiled down upon me, brows furrowed though, and I knew she worried, from that mere look upon her face I knew she cared, and that made it better, but worse, all at the same time.
"It must be done, love," she whispered, kissing the top of my head. "I have taught you all you need to know to succeed there, and she will teach you what you need to know to succeed in the world. You will be a maid in her house, but she will still teach you many things. And if anything, she could send you to an even better household, one with more esteem. Imagine, working for a princess, becoming her lady in waiting, and maybe yourself finding a prince!" She said it with such enthusiasm that I believed it to be true, that perhaps, one day, I would be able to break free of the bonds of this terrible Lefebvre woman, and be the wife of an established, wealthy, kind man. It was the only bright beacon in this dark fairytale. But for now it seemed that I was stuck to this benefactress, and that I would have to find every way to deal, other than do what I was doing now, balling like a babe. I knew that such would not be tolerated. Momma had already taught me the ways of a maid in a household, and I knew that I would have to be silent. I could not be heard or seen while serving, and I was never to let my benefactress know my displeasure. But at the same time, my mother made it seem like I would be something more, not just a maid, but someone this Andraiya would rear and teach and shape into a fine and proper lady. And mayhap I would be, but a large part of me doubted she would see anything like that in me. How could I think kindly on the person who was dragging me away from the carefree life I loved and knew? Momma grasped my shoulders and looked upon me with her sweet smile, and I found it hard not to smile back, even through the tears.
"Be strong, little dove, and remember what I have told you. We will write you often, and you will be able to write us. You know you can tell us anything you wish. And if ever you cannot," she said, turning from me and turning back to me with an item in her hands, wrapped in brown paper, "you can write your feelings down in here. Just remember, keep them to yourself. Do not share them with other maids, for they may be bitter, and do not share them with your benefactress, for you may be considered weak. Writing them down will help," she said. I opened the parcel, unwrapping the harsh twine from about it, and discarding the brown paper to reveal a little book with uneven pages of parchment, and a little pen nib. Its cover was of leather, a tawny coloured leather, and the pages were bound together with a silken ribbon through rounded holes. I smiled as I looked up at her, wiping my own tears away.
"Momma," I whispered, but those were the only words I could utter before I grabbed her in an embrace, my arms wrapping about her waist as I pressed my little face to her apron. "Oh momma," I murmured again. She held me, stroking my hair gently as she had done so many times, and too many times to count this day. My trunks were downstairs, waiting for me. The Lefebvre carriage waited outside as well to take me away. I took a deep breath and drew myself away from my mother. With a stiff nod and a sniffle to end the crying, I wiped my face with my own little handkerchief, embroidered with my name on it in a pale pink, and straightened my back. She looked me over once and nodded, stealing a quick kiss against my cheek before she pushed me gently towards the door.
I made my way down the stairs, my little diary in hand, and hugged and kissed pappa, and sissy, and with one last deep breath, I waved and left the house I had grown up in, walking down the steps I had sat on, out the front yard I had made played in, to the waiting carriage that seemed to loom like a giant over me, so tall and perfect, cold and gleaming with wealth, with the coach hand smiling but still looking very serious. I smiled back, and hazarded a curtsey, which he returned with a short bow, which in that moment I deemed to be a heartless one, before he loaded my parcels onto the wagon attached at the back and opened the door to the carriage for me. I stepped up, looking back once to see all the faces I had known staring back at me. Momma blew her nose into her handkerchief then waved it as the others watched on, waving with sadness in their eyes. The carriage door closed and I pulled back the little curtain covering the window, pressing my face to one side while my hand waved feverishly back and forth at those I was leaving behind.
Sitting on the seat, I let my fingers run over the soft velvet fabric, everything so foreign to me. It was clean, smelled clean, but did not smell of home. Of caked mud on boots, of the apple tree in the back. Of the cows and their fresh milk, the frsh crisp linen momma washed and hanged to dry, the loaves of warm bread baked daily. Of pappa’s pipe, sissy’s terrible perfume. No it smelled of cold wealth. It was too big to pick just me up, big enough to fit three or so people in it. My feet barely reached the floor. Everything just seemed so big, the carriage, the driver, the dreams that my mother had planted in my young, impressionable mind. It all seemed too big for someone like myself, a simple country girl who just wanted to stay home and be with her loved ones. But, I would have to start thinking big, start being the woman mother had told me to be, had taught me to be since I was a child. I closed the window curtain, and did not look back again, looking forward in the darkness of the carriage, to the darkness that would come.
It was finally here, the day that I would be brought to the Lefebvre household, no longer to serve the Comte, but his daughter, the Comtesse. Rumours had been whispered about her, about the situation with her uncle who was now in gaol, spending his life there, withering and wasting away because apparently he had done the most unmentionable, unfathomable thing that any d'Angeline could do, aside from treason. He had broken Elua's sacred precept and forced himself on his niece and his own guilt had driven him to turn himself in. It was... odd. Of course, those who had heard of it felt sorry for the new Comtesse, but I, well I was terrified to enter into such a broken household, lacking love, and with such unrest, and worried that the woman I would be serving would be cold after what had been done to her.
Plus there were the rumours that had spread. There was not much said about her, but there were words amongst the lesser classes, possibly started from her own household servants, noone knew, about how she was like two different people. Kind and benevolent on one side, but bitter, cold and harsh on the other. Of course, again, these were just rumours. Nonetheless, they terrified me. I was but a child, and I was leaving the only home I had known to be inducted into the house of a stranger.
"Why momma," I had asked her, tears streaming down my face. "Why must I leave you and pappa and sissy? Why do I have to go to this terrible woman!?" I had cried out, shaking, my hands balled into fists.
"Because it is better for you, my dear. She is not terrible, I promise," she had reassured me, wiping away the tears with a ripped handkerchief that smelled of her fragrance. It smelled of home, and safety. And though her words were strong, the look on her face made me wonder whether they were completely the truth. In that moment, I swore they hated me, all my family who claimed they loved me so and claimed that this change, this move was for the better. It was for my best interest. But how could leaving the only people I loved, the only people who knew me and let me be as I was, how could this be good in any way?
"She will teach you many things about the world, and perhaps you will be able to rise up in esteem and marry yourself a lovely man one day, and Andraiya will help you achieve this," she had said, her kind fingers, though tired and not soft at all, stroked through my hair lovingly. I leaned against her palm, turning my face towards it to kiss it with soft lips, and feeling the wetnes that had dripped down my cheek and was now on her hand, press against my lips. My tears were salty, and I licked my lips as I turned away from her hand.
"But... can I not leave some other time, in a few years? When I am older? I have much to learn here too, momma, who will care for you and pappa when sissy gets married away? How can I help when I am there with her, going wither she goes?" I had asked, still hoping that my words would change their minds. My momma had smiled down upon me, brows furrowed though, and I knew she worried, from that mere look upon her face I knew she cared, and that made it better, but worse, all at the same time.
"It must be done, love," she whispered, kissing the top of my head. "I have taught you all you need to know to succeed there, and she will teach you what you need to know to succeed in the world. You will be a maid in her house, but she will still teach you many things. And if anything, she could send you to an even better household, one with more esteem. Imagine, working for a princess, becoming her lady in waiting, and maybe yourself finding a prince!" She said it with such enthusiasm that I believed it to be true, that perhaps, one day, I would be able to break free of the bonds of this terrible Lefebvre woman, and be the wife of an established, wealthy, kind man. It was the only bright beacon in this dark fairytale. But for now it seemed that I was stuck to this benefactress, and that I would have to find every way to deal, other than do what I was doing now, balling like a babe. I knew that such would not be tolerated. Momma had already taught me the ways of a maid in a household, and I knew that I would have to be silent. I could not be heard or seen while serving, and I was never to let my benefactress know my displeasure. But at the same time, my mother made it seem like I would be something more, not just a maid, but someone this Andraiya would rear and teach and shape into a fine and proper lady. And mayhap I would be, but a large part of me doubted she would see anything like that in me. How could I think kindly on the person who was dragging me away from the carefree life I loved and knew? Momma grasped my shoulders and looked upon me with her sweet smile, and I found it hard not to smile back, even through the tears.
"Be strong, little dove, and remember what I have told you. We will write you often, and you will be able to write us. You know you can tell us anything you wish. And if ever you cannot," she said, turning from me and turning back to me with an item in her hands, wrapped in brown paper, "you can write your feelings down in here. Just remember, keep them to yourself. Do not share them with other maids, for they may be bitter, and do not share them with your benefactress, for you may be considered weak. Writing them down will help," she said. I opened the parcel, unwrapping the harsh twine from about it, and discarding the brown paper to reveal a little book with uneven pages of parchment, and a little pen nib. Its cover was of leather, a tawny coloured leather, and the pages were bound together with a silken ribbon through rounded holes. I smiled as I looked up at her, wiping my own tears away.
"Momma," I whispered, but those were the only words I could utter before I grabbed her in an embrace, my arms wrapping about her waist as I pressed my little face to her apron. "Oh momma," I murmured again. She held me, stroking my hair gently as she had done so many times, and too many times to count this day. My trunks were downstairs, waiting for me. The Lefebvre carriage waited outside as well to take me away. I took a deep breath and drew myself away from my mother. With a stiff nod and a sniffle to end the crying, I wiped my face with my own little handkerchief, embroidered with my name on it in a pale pink, and straightened my back. She looked me over once and nodded, stealing a quick kiss against my cheek before she pushed me gently towards the door.
I made my way down the stairs, my little diary in hand, and hugged and kissed pappa, and sissy, and with one last deep breath, I waved and left the house I had grown up in, walking down the steps I had sat on, out the front yard I had made played in, to the waiting carriage that seemed to loom like a giant over me, so tall and perfect, cold and gleaming with wealth, with the coach hand smiling but still looking very serious. I smiled back, and hazarded a curtsey, which he returned with a short bow, which in that moment I deemed to be a heartless one, before he loaded my parcels onto the wagon attached at the back and opened the door to the carriage for me. I stepped up, looking back once to see all the faces I had known staring back at me. Momma blew her nose into her handkerchief then waved it as the others watched on, waving with sadness in their eyes. The carriage door closed and I pulled back the little curtain covering the window, pressing my face to one side while my hand waved feverishly back and forth at those I was leaving behind.
Sitting on the seat, I let my fingers run over the soft velvet fabric, everything so foreign to me. It was clean, smelled clean, but did not smell of home. Of caked mud on boots, of the apple tree in the back. Of the cows and their fresh milk, the frsh crisp linen momma washed and hanged to dry, the loaves of warm bread baked daily. Of pappa’s pipe, sissy’s terrible perfume. No it smelled of cold wealth. It was too big to pick just me up, big enough to fit three or so people in it. My feet barely reached the floor. Everything just seemed so big, the carriage, the driver, the dreams that my mother had planted in my young, impressionable mind. It all seemed too big for someone like myself, a simple country girl who just wanted to stay home and be with her loved ones. But, I would have to start thinking big, start being the woman mother had told me to be, had taught me to be since I was a child. I closed the window curtain, and did not look back again, looking forward in the darkness of the carriage, to the darkness that would come.