The Wings of the Truly Beautiful

two.

There are two things that you need to know about Winifred before we go any further in our story. The first thing, as I have mentioned before, is that she was not beautiful.
Or as she says, she is not beautiful anymore.
She was branded when she entered the brothel and carries the sign on her neck. A horrible reminder of her slavery.
She is also scarred on the left side of her face. Compliments of a very angry customer ten years ago. It never faded. It was deep and left a large indentation from her cheek down to her jawline. She hated the sight of mirrors ever since.

The second thing that you must know is that she knew that she was not beautiful. She was under no impression that she was in any way attractive. If a man could look past her face, the actions of her past would be enough to repel him. But in light of her past, she was quite relieved that she was not attractive. It left her with very little to worry about in the way of attention.
As a 27-year-old woman, with a history as a "lady of ill repute", she did not expect much from the rest of her life. It meant nothing to society that that life was not one she had chosen. They were brutal in their judgment of people like herself, who had done what had to be done to survive. But despite those truths, life had given her far more than she had expected. To acquire a job in a respectable house, by a respectable lord was too much to ask for. To ask for anything else would be ungrateful. Freedom was enough.

When she first arrived at the "palace" as she dubbed Lord Blackheart's manor in her head, she was given the most menial kitchen tasks to prove her worth. She was in charge of mopping and scrubbing the floor, tending to the fireplace, and washing the dishes. She suspected that they piled the dishes high the first two weeks on purpose just to see if she would complain. But up until now, she had spent her life giving pleasure to men that she hated, so dishes were a far lesser evil and one she could handle with a genuine smile on her face. As it turned out washing the dishes became her favorite job. She would wait until everyone went to bed and wash and sing. It was her favorite part of the day and she loved to see the sink piled high. She also got her best thinking done then as well. She would stand there and think about all sorts of things. Sometimes she would come up with stories in her head. There were some really good ones that she wished she could write down, but she was content to keep them in her mind and take them out at night.

Ms. Pemberly, who had expected very little from the girl if she was honest, was pleasantly surprised at her hard work. The first night she had left the dishes piled high, not expecting Winifred to complete all of it. She came downstairs the next morning to a spotless kitchen and a very quiet Winifred scrubbing the floor diligently. She had wondered if the girl had spent all night there but when she inquired as to how she slept, Winifred replied with a very soft, "Very well, thank you, ma'am." That was another thing that had baffled Ms. Pemberly for a while. The girl was very quiet, never smiled, and almost never spoke. And when she did it was barely audible. It wasn't until Ms. Pemberly had a sleepless night that she discovered Winifred's talent.
She was lying in bed when she heard noise in the kitchen. She went to investigate and saw Winifred washing the dishes and singing softly to herself. She swayed lightly to the rhythm of the song and seemed to be in another world. And the most extraordinary thing was that she was smiling. A gentle smile that showed that the girl had some kindness somewhere, a sort that she only took out when no one was watching. But here in the dim-lighted kitchen, Ms. Pemberly watched as Winifred's smile lit up the room.
She had gone back to bed not wanting to disturb the girls happiness. And she had not said a word about it. That was two weeks in. After that, Ms. Pemberly began giving the girl some more meaningful assignments such as helping with preparation, stirring and setting up the food trays. And with Winifred's quiet, hard-working, and willing spirit, she began to like the girl more and more.

***

One year later

Winifred loved her new life. She would be forever grateful to whatever or whoever saw fit to take her out of her dark prison. She was repsected here, she was treated with something far above contempt, and best of all for her, she was not admired for her body or beauty but for her actual merits. And the thought made her more happy that she could say.

As time went one she began to come alive in the manor. She made friends with the kitchen staff, and Ms. Pemberly was like that mother that she never had. The boys that worked in and around the house were like her brothers and on more than one occasion defended her from unseemly characters. Which brings me to my next point.

Winifred's beauty. Now it was true that she was not what most would call beautiful. She still wore that horrible scar and she was forever finding dresses with high neck lines to cover the brand. It was the one chain that she could not unshackle. But you must also note that her living condition a year prior were not condusive to anyone, and frankly no one could look truly beautiful in such a place as that. The food at the brothel was meager at best, and the place was alwasy cold and damp, even in the summer. The sun never seemed to find its way to her small corner. It was a cold hell. And not to mention the requirements of her job, as I'm sure we are all aware. None of that brings forth a beautiful person, not in body, soul, or spirit.

But here, where the food was good, the beds alwasy warm, and the comapny wholesome, Winifred began to look healither and happier. Her face rounded out and didn't have such hollow dips in her cheeks and eyes. Her skin brightened to a lovely pale complextion and her thin body rounded out into a healthy shape. In short she was starting to look more like the self she was made to be.

I should note that in the whole year that Winifred lived in manor, she never once saw Lord Blackheart. Not that it mattered to her, but it is important. I do feel a certain duty to be honest with you. This is a love story. It is perhaps a bit more that just that, but fundamentally, at its core, it is a love story. Now that you know this you may see why it is important that our two unassuming lovers have not seen each other in over a year.

But that is where I come in. Who am I?

Well I'll let you decide for yourself.

Now on with the story.

~SK~