The Dying Rose (Completed)

Chapter 1: A Rat and A Mouse

Black soil stained my hands and caked itself underneath the crescents of my finger nails. Sweat ran down my face, neck, and back, soaking my hair and burning my eyes. The sun was hot on my back, but the garden needed to be dug, and there was no one else to do it. Raising the garden shovel over my head, I brought it down on the stubborn tree root that was testing my patience. It barely moved. With a growl from between my clenched teeth, I resorted to violence against nature. I began to chop sporadically at the root, while thinking thoughts of a very unpleasant nature.

Finally, I had almost chopped through it. Grabbing the loose end, I began to pull as hard as I could to rip it away from the part that didn't need to come up. I pulled and pulled, straining my skinny arms against the unforgiving root. It was destined to make me work for it.

If it wanted war, it would have war.

With a little shriek of victory, I gave one last hard tug. The root snapped apart, and sent me sprawling across the ground, coating me in dirt. Eyes closed, I groaned in agony. And then I heard a man laugh.

My eyes flew open. I was looking at the world upside down, but my uninvited guest was still recognizable. His cleft chin led to his full lips, which were flanked by dimples that would melt the heart of any woman, young or old. Long dark brown hair hung down around his face. His eyes were as black as two coals, and they held the same dancing flames.

I sat up quickly, brushing dirt from my grey shirt and pants. "Mr. Faure! I was not expecting to see you. I apologize for my... discomposure." I said, voice squeaking as I searched for the right word. 

Mr. Faure was one of the most respected gentlemen of the village. Until recently he had been away, serving in the King's Army. When he came back to find our family had moved in on the village's outskirts, the rumor in the village was that he had sworn to make my sisters and I fall in love with him. I had met him once or twice in passing in the village. What was he doing out here on our farm?

"That's alright, Miss Durand. Although, now I gather why you wear those confounded pants. I was wondering, you know, why you would be showing off the shape of your legs in public. Now, I think I understand a little more," he said, eyes flashing.

I blushed. I was the only girl in the village who ever wore pants, but what choice did I have? I ran our household, and I did many chores that couldn't be accomplished in dresses. "Again, Mr. Faure, I apologize deeply. If I had known we were to have company, I would have made myself more presentable. I hope I have not offended you."

"Not in the slightest. In fact, you have very aesthetic legs, if it is not too bold of me to say," he said, a smile spreading across his handsome, full lips.

My blush deepened. "It is not too bold, Mr. Faure, as I know you mean it to flatter. And, I appreciate the compliment."

"You are most welcome to it, but please, Miss Durand, call me Henri. I hate formality. For seven years in the Army, my name was simply Faure; I am sick of hearing it, even from a voice as lovely as yours.  So, call me Henri. Please." he pleaded imploringly.

"Alright, Henri. And you may call me Arabella." I said with a smile, looking down at my feet. I was shocked that he had come to call on our household. He must be looking for my sister, Oriabelle, who was regarded as the town beauty. We often had visitors come to see her.

"Well, Arabella, I wanted to talk to you about something. I heard a rumor in the village, about you."

And then a wrenching scream split the air.

I ran for the house, with Henri in hot pursuit. I pushed open the back door, and ran into the kitchen.  Oriabelle stood in a chair screaming bloody murder. On the ground before her was a small, brown mouse.