❝𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 ❞
a bastard girl forced to dress up
as a boy for her mother's sanity
travels down the same path as she
falls for a boy that was destined
for someone else
𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐱...
Her heart was beating like there was no tomorrow, her hands and knees scraped with tiny lacerations from being dragged abruptly across the ground. Her vision was blurred, the pain in her leg excruciating. There was a dull roar in her ears as she focused on the rapid moving of the young lord's mouth. Then, the events of the past thirty seconds hit her like a truck.
A branch fell down.
Young Master Tewkesbury was going to get hit.
Her legs shot like a bullet.
His body toppled down.
Pain.
His eyes weren't opening.
Her whole lower body was filled with pain.
But he was safe.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed the heavy branch off her ankle, thousands of bolts of pain shooting up the injured limb. She hissed. Not a scream was let out, instead, the tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
But was he alright?
As if on cue, Tewkesbury let out a groan. "What in the world happened?"
She grimaced at him. "I saved your life, My Lord."
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The days were blurring. Cyril's workload has not only tripled its normal amount, she has also been tasked of surveying and keeping track of Tewkesbury. Under the orders of the Dowager, she was to deliver a semiweekly report on the actions and doings of her grandson. All for the sake of making sure he is doing alright after the near-death experience, especially after his father's death.
Cyril didn't want to do it. But in the end, the Dowager had a higher position of power than she did, and there could be nothing done lest she be fired and banished from the estate.
Which didn't sound like a too bad idea, now that she thought about it. She was already planning it, and she had finished drafting her letter of resignation. After the branch fell on her leg, it hasn't been the same. The doctor didn't mention it, but she knew that there was only but a sliver of hope that she would not develop a permanent injury. Her left leg now slightly dragged along, stiff when she started to stress and overextend herself. She knew deluding herself of an imaginary future with Tewkesbury would be pointless, and that she would inevitably be the one to suffer when she was found out. Better off that she left on her own terms and pursued the medical field, which she had grown to love over the years.
After all, an aide that had a weakness was the biggest weakness a lord could have.
But that's the funny thing about love. It squeezes all the good and rational bits of your head and leaves you a fool in circus shoes. Her heart ached to leave the place she now called home. It was crushing to pack the pristine clothes that were given to her into a small leather knapsack. The people she worked alongside were going to be terribly sad that she would be leaving, and she would as well.
But most of all, she would be sad to leave him.
A life with him, always a weakness, always a lie? Or a life of agony without him, but he would be happy, he would be safe?
Her eyes the colour of an overcast day in London gravitated towards the wreath of dried stalks and petals on her dresser, proudly standing against the will of time. Resolution came, and she steeled her heart.
Capturing the envelope beside the brown knapsack, she swept over the room and through the halls. Her foots were not dissimilar to lead as she reached the imposing forest green door. Knocking, she turned the handle and spoke in a deep clear voice, the loudest she's ever spoken.
"I'm here to hand in my resignation of post, Madame Dowager."
