Chapter 38 - Only Time Would Tell

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I'm so glad I am able to upload today! I thought I would be up to my neck with homework. I guess it has something to do with the four leaf clover I found yesterday. Who knows. Anyway here is chapter 38! You're going to find out who Sarelle's secret admirer is. I hope you guys like it. Don't forget to comment and vote! Thanks guys. (: - LongLiveMusic17

P.S. This story is dedicated to TwihardLestrange because she is amazing and her comments about this story make me so happy! I love hearing what she has to say about it. And I found it awesome that some chapters made her cry. It shows just how much she loves the story and how emotional it gets. She is one of my favorite people on here and knowing how much she loves this story, I kinda expect that she will love the sequel just as much, if not more. (:

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Spits and starts, dribs and drabs, seconds racing through treacle. That was how the time passed. Each day awoke with such energy and yet its velocity was lost as the minutes ticked by. By the time evening came the day seemed tired and weary, as if its lack of adventure had left it disappointed. I couldn't agree. My time was peaceful, not restless, and steadfast instead of mundane. I was locked in a comfortable cycle of seemingly dreary days and yet I felt nothing but the calm I had felt in Belmore. That is before love took its toll and turned my world upside down and right side up.

After the Halloween ball I found myself seeking a social calendar like those around me. Gone was the girl who scowled and hid, preferring solitude to company. I had left her behind the very day I encountered Edward in the music store. I would be ignorant to say I was back to my Belmore demeanour because I still wore a solid skin on my exterior, toughened to help me survive. However I now wore it as a suit of armour, preparing me to be valiant rather than a shield for me to hide behind.

Through my social exploits I had found an attachment to a girl by the name of Isabel Rockefeller-Lincoln. A long name for a long family history. A history splattered with the luxury of old money.

"Mr Winfred-Jones is staring at you again." Isabel giggled beside me, her tight bob bouncing around her jaw line.

I turned to follow her gaze and settled with boredom upon the arrogant stance of the man who had pestered me ever since the Halloween ball. It had been three long weeks of extravagant red rose bouquets and overly confident assumptions. I had lost count of the number of times I had refused his invitations, whether they were to theatre performances, balls, lunchbox socials, or afternoon tea. Each one I had kindly declined, and yet he still continued the chase. I was starting to wonder if my refusal was only increasing his determination.

"If he engages me in a yet another conversation about his daddy's money, or mummy's social skills, I think I might be driven to insanity." A flash of Newalk asylum exploded in my mind and I shivered at the possibility of ever ended up back in a place such as that.

"Oh you are so bad, Sarelle. I'm sure your guardian would be most pleased with a match between you and Mr Jones," Isabel said as a group of gossiping girls passed by us, including the non-to-delightful Alice Tully. The girl had taken quite a dislike for me and I was yet to understand why.

"One might think that, but I know Aslo well and he wouldn't approve."

"You're close with Mr Finn; you must be to call him by first name. It's nearly unheard of to do such a thing unless the man is your blood related father." Isabel blushed as she told me this, and I made a mental note to further adapt my social skills to this era. I had spent too much time jumping through time to remember clearly the way the social world worked here.

"Yes, well, we've known each other for a very long time, in fact, probably longer than I truly knew my parents. Anyway, dear Isabel can you please inform me of the reason why Miss Tully greets me with venomous eyes every time we meet?" I grinned as Isabel's eyes lit up. She was a reserved girl, but that didn't halt her enjoyment of gossip. She was, after all, a normal fifteen year old.

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