❝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...
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
❝I don't run away from you...I walk slowly & it kills me that you don't care enough to stop me.❞ ~Anonymous
It was weird, looking at her mother with someone beside her.
It was weird, knowing that this could be the last time that she saw her.
It was weird, knowing that her mother wouldn't even recall their goodbyes, or lack of them for that matter.
There wasn't any struggle. Cyril spoke one sentence, albeit broken and clunky, about her leaving to go with the marquess and his son off to their estate. She mentioned that she would probably be unable to visit, seeing as the travel from the village to Basilwether would be very tedious and over a week's worth of travel with the best transport money could provide, which she did not have.
Her mother's reply would forever be etched into her mind. The vacant stare, the slouched posture, the empty smile as she patted her daughter's cheek.
"That's nice, dear. Be back from this trip soon, alright, Joseph?"
Her own mother. The woman who gave birth to her and raised her for the first years of her life.
And she couldn't even see anything but her lover in her visage, believing that he had finally returned from whatever trip he had, and was going on a new one soon.
The flowers that she clutched in her hand dropped to the floor, a dull thud echoing the room. Pink tulip petals scattered the faded blue painted surface of the wooden planks. They were the last flowers that she would have given her mother.
The man had told her that it symbolized good wishes and affection, something she wanted to leave with her mother. But instead, she was left with bitter memories and no goodbyes.
Two tiny arms slowly wrapped themselves around the girl, stopping her shaking, which she didn't even notice, nor did she notice the tears staining the light beige jacket that he wore. There she stood, in silence, relishing the feeling of her apparently new friend's arms around her.
For she was truly now all alone in this world, wholly abandoned by her mother.
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
The trip back to the marquess' estate was merry as can be after that sombre event, almost erasing all dark clouds in her days.
A particularly troublesome one was something that was brought up every two sentences or so, albeit unknowingly by two of the aforementioned party of three.
"You can play with my toys and read my books when we get back! It would be fun to have a friend around the house with me." Tewkesbury was ecstatic, practically hopping in the carriage seat with delight. "We can even build the treehouse together! I'm only starting it, but everything's ready for us to build!"
His father chuckled. "We'll get him tailored for more suitable clothes when we get back, after I have talked to your mother about this."
Patting his son's head, he affectionately glanced at the boy. "It would be good for my son to have someone his age to play with. Lord knows how much trouble he causes, and I'm hoping you'll be a good influence on him."
Cyril was silent throughout this whole exchange, but she had a small, almost unnoticeable smile on her lips. Bittersweet, yet content. Envious, yet, happy. How she would kill for a family like that.
The marquess seemed to notice her gaze on the pair, his son oblivious.
"You know, Cyril," his voice soft, "my son already considers you as part of his inner circle. And frankly, that's quite fast since it is only comprised of me, my wife, and my mother-in-law. So, for you to already be considered so special by my son says a great deal about you."
He leaned forward, patting the girl on her hands that rested on her knees in a respectful position.
"Don't be too formal with us, we consider you as family now. And although I cannot give you a position higher than my son's attendant, nor can I adopt you as our adoptive son nor ward, you can always come to us if you ever need anything."
Cyril's mask cracked a little, and she allowed some of her emotions to spill out in the form of tears of gratitude. And even though she couldn't express herself in words, somehow, they all knew what she was saying.
