The Prince's Maid.

Chapter2

Chapter2

I awoke at five o'clock the next morning, and did the whole routine, one of which has already been explained, and I cannot bare to go through it again.

It came to the time to awake the Lord and Lady, I gave them their toast and orange juice before smoothing out my apron and fetching their favourite books. The Lord's was Wuthering Heights, saying it was a great book and carried such great images within the words. I hadn't read it myself as I cannot read very well, but I trust his judgement. The Lady's was Little Women, saying near enough the same thing, but that the way these girls were at so much of a disadvantage that you honestly couldn't help but feel sorry for them.

I had simply learned these things because I had often listened to their mindless chatter when they had finished a book, having nothing else to do. Knowing these things about the books allowed me to imagine what had happened throughout the book, though I knew I would never know the truth.

"Andrea?" I heard the call of the Lady and immediately, I set out to find her. She wasn't far if I could hear her voice from here, and I was right. I found her in the small library, where she was sitting by the fire in her favourite armchair.

"Yes, Ma'am?" I stood behind the chair, keeping my distance from her, and waited for her to turn around of her own account. We could never turn away from the Lord or Lady, but they could do as they pleased to us.

"Take an hour's break, Andrea. I have no chores for you. Go and inform that no one is to bother you." she said lazily. I could see that she had not looked up from her book to talk, and despite her not being able to see me, I bowed any way and backed out of the room.

I headed to my little room and sat on the window-sill-chair, staring out of the window. My mind drifted, and led me to thoughts of my old life, my old friends, my family.

My name had not been Andrea before now; it had been Marissa. It was a glamourous name all the same, but it had been changed since I belonged to my new Lord and Lady. Before them, I was a free woman, but I needed work and there were no other choices. I had no last name, and had already ajusted to my new name. It felt like I had been cheated by life. It felt like I was a completely different person sometimes, even though I secretly enjoyed my work. It gave me something to do, something to distract my mind from all the things I was missing from back home.

My younger brother, Edward would be 13 by now, 4 years younger than myself. His mischievious smile was forever imprinted in my mind, even if I couldn't hear his infectous laughter ringing in my ears. He had perfect dimples whenever he smiled, his teeth flawless. He had freckles across the bridge of his nose, grey-blue eyes and dark brown hair. Edward's hair was never brushed; he said that as a boy, he shouldn't brush it, thinking it was simply a girl's duty to brush their hair. Well, that was his reason 3 years ago, when it could be excused that he wanted to do what his friends did. I don't know what he did any more.

My older sister, Millie, had gone into being a maid 6 years ago. She would be 24 now. The last time I saw her, she had had long brown hair and piercing blue eyes. She had a no freckles, but high cheekbones, perfect teeth (like the rest of us) and a beautiful figure. She was slim and used to wear dresses that would show that, even though they weren't much to any one who could afford much better.

I haven't heard off any of them since I became a maid myself, 3 years ago, and the same had applied when Millie went. I haven't heard off her for 6 years, none of us have. Never have I asked to make contact with my family, as it is a rule to ask what the Lord and Lady want, never should you ask for favours for your own beneficial needs. It is frowned upon as a selfish act; if I had wanted to keep contact, I would not have come here. That was their reason. That was everyone's reason.

By now, Edward would only have about 4 years left before going to find work, and most likely losing his name. I don't know what Millie's name now is either. And I doubt I shall ever find her again.

My mother looked like an older version of Millie, and I have never asked what her name used to be. I don't know if it was ever changed, but I suppose it had been. She now went by the name Tabatha, never responding to anything else as far as I knew; she hated when someone shortened it to Tabby, other than our father before he died in a riot. That's the reason she won't allow it, as she says it brings back too many memories and that she needs to stay strong for her family. Millie looked exactly like mother, as she had inherited the same hair, the same cheekbones. But Millie has Dad's eyes. Mother has long brown hair which she ties into a tight bun and hides it under a piece of cloth. Her eyes are green, the greenest of greens. She had a few freckles by the side of her nose, but you could only see them if you took great care in detail when looking at one's face. Her jaw looked more soft than Millie's, and Mother had the softest cheeks anyone could ever touch.

I hadn't realised that I was crying until I felt it drip off my chin and land on my hand which was laid in my lap. My head was rested against the window, the coolness having no effect on the headache that was just starting to come on. Of course, I could do nothing to make it go away, there was nothing I owned that could do that. I would just have to ignore it until it did.

I had not actually planned on falling asleep here, falling asleep with my head against the cool window, tear tracks still visible on my cheek. I just did, peacefully, the throbbing of my head ebbing away as I drifted into unconsciousness.

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I awoke when I felt someone jostling me. I was already in my full-length night gown, and had somehow gotten into bed. There was a figure who was pulling the duvet over my body, but I did not know who. My body resisted my requests to lift my head and have a look at who it was, ignoring them completely. Instead, my eyes closed by themselves and all too soon, I was asleep again, dreaming of a dark stranger rescuing me from here, saying that never shall I have to do chores again. But I knew that if that chance ever came, I would not have maids working for me; I would live normally.

But dreams are beautiful things.

They seem touchable, but so out of reach at the same time.

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