And another dedication to SophieKrarup for the cover :D
Not sure that anyone was reading this story...but it's back anyways :)
I am currently not working on this. I eventually plan to re-write and finish it, but just a heads up. It's certainly not my best work, and is not likely to be updated soon.
********
Chapter One
Rachel sighed, snapping her book shut and pulling herself into a sitting position. With a slight frown, she brushed off the front of her dress, for she had been lying on her stomach in the hay loft. Not a wise thing to do when one was expecting important company, perhaps, but she did not care. Besides, wasn’t company meant to keep you from getting lonely, not to ridicule you? The time and effort put into visits from certain people was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. Rachel nodded to herself, mentally agreeing with a statement that she had just thought.
At the sound of horses, she ran through the hay, and grabbed onto a large beam, leaning out over the open space of the barn bellow. They were here! Mama’s rich friend and her family. Eyeing the wealthy party and their beautiful carriage, the girl grudgingly admitted (though to whom she could not have told) that perhaps there was something logical behind all of her mother’s preparations. Rachel hung precariously, but had no fear of falling, not with her hand wrapped as firmly around the pole as it was. Her dress swayed, dangling over, and her hair tumbled down away from her as she watched with curiosity.
And curious she might rightly be, for her mother was rarely so excitable. For the past month, Mama had been strangely nervous and anxious. Rachel attributed the strange behaviour to the fact that she had not seen her friend in many years, although they used to be closer than sisters. All day she had been reading up here, impatiently waiting for the arrival of her long anticipated guests- and avoiding a certain someone named Tristan. Although avoiding him in a place where he worked was a difficult feat to accomplish. Ah, well, what could she say? Challenges were fun.
The stable did not by any means belong to her family, they were public, but she loved the scents and sounds and this was a favourite haunt of hers. Ever since she was small she had been climbing up here, something many people were unable to do as there was no ladder. In fact, when she was only seven people had begun calling it “Rachel’s Loft” and the name had stuck all through the next ten years, Rachel was seventeen now and it was still called that.
The sounds from bellow grew louder, as the carriage stopped directly beneath her perch. Two people were already busy with the horses, while the family disembarked from their fancy travelling coach. Rachel began to feel nervous, knowing how much her making a good impression would mean to her mother, especially as she was the only member of the family here to greet them. Stepping back, she more thoroughly brushed herself off, gently pulling hay and straw from her hair as well as she tried to smooth it down and look the part of a young lady.
A young lady indeed! Using those words for me must be the overstatement of the century, Rachel thought, shaking her head quietly at nothing in particular. She was perhaps the only person who would think thus though, as she was generally viewed as the gem of the village. Not that anyone would tell her though, no, not ever, never in a million years. Who would dream of telling such a sweet thing that she was viewed so highly? No one in their right mind, of course, for to do such a thing would be to spoil her with her own vanity. If a person were to ask what vanity, as Rachel appeared to have none- pride was a different matter- then they would probably be promptly informed that she would get it if praised.
“Rachel!” one of the stable boys called to her with a grin and a wave, “Maybe you’ll escort your guests back to your house for me? I have other work still.”
“Coming Tristan,” she called back, nodding in agreement. So much for her rule of avoiding him. Avoiding also meant not talking to him, didn’t it? No matter, at least she would be leaving right away, and she would have to come down eventually anyways. Running to the side wall, she gripped the edge of the flooring and swung her body over. Twisting around, she found a firm hold for one foot, and while pressing her weight into that she leaned over so as to grab a loose board. She allowed it to take her weight then, and it swung out, creaking. She dropped the remaining two feet to the ground and spun around, her full skirts swirling about her as she gracefully approached the newcomers and curtsied politely.
“How do you do, Sir?” She asked, addressing the husband of her mother’s friend, as he was nearest to her.
He stared at her, looking aghast, while the lady laughed. “Oh child, a spitting image of your father you are!” she exclaimed, stepping forwards and wrapping Rachel in a hug. Her statement confused the girl, who hid a grin knowing that she did not resemble her father. “I am so pleased to finally meet you again! I don’t think you would remember the last time, you were only two,” the lady continued eagerly.
Oh, but Rachel did remember. She remembered being spoiled by the pretty rich lady, and she remembered being tormented by her son. At that memory, she glanced sharply behind them, and nearly groaned in dismay when she saw a boy possibly two years older than herself at the most. He was well dressed, and looked extremely bored and annoyed. Marvellous. Even in her thoughts the word resonated with sarcasm, he had been her least favourite person as a toddler and was like to remain as such. Rachel liked the comfort of first impressions, and if she stuck to them she wouldn’t have to deal with the complications of people changing. Like Tristan had changed…
Shaking her head once more, she snapped from her thoughts in time to hear her new least favourite person answer his mother, the queen of sweetness. And mothering. Only, Rachel didn’t need the queen of mothering to come visit, she already had one raising her. Right, she was supposed to pay attention to them.
“Mother,” the boy said flatly, “This stable has a terrible stench, can we not go somewhere more pleasant?”
Rachel glared at him, no one insulted her favourite place. Quickly wiping the scowl off her face, she assented to herself that he was right, sometimes the stable did not smell the sweetest. But still. “Forgive me,” she said tersely, “I’ll take you to my home now, my parents will be most anxious to greet you.”
Tristan cut in, saying “I will be over with your trunks within an hour,” but Rachel doubted he was heard by anyone other than herself, and the way they ignored him did not make her any more cheerful. She had forgotten how rich they were, and quite probably they would not deem themselves low enough to speak to most of the people she spent her days with in this town.
Her mother’s friend did not seem to notice her sudden change of mood, but smiled brightly. “Thank you dear! Oh, and how rude of me, this is my son Peter.” She paused, and glanced over at the obnoxious boy, “And Peter, this is Miss Rachel.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mother. I can see that.”
“No you can’t,” Rachel stated, instantly regretting it. “You’ve not looked at me even once, Master Peter.”
Surprised, he raised his head, and their gazes locked. “Now I have.” He replied in a bored tone, and then grinned coldly. “And I could almost swear you just crawled out of a hay bale.”
From behind her, Rachel heard Tristan chuckle, and knew he was waiting expectantly for her to hit her new guest. Raising her chin, she decided she’d show Tristan that she could be a lady. Hopefully. “I will take that as a compliment. I love hay.”
Peter snorted, “Believe me Miss, it wasn’t meant as one. Do you enjoy eating it too? That could be why you’re so thin.”
“Peter!” his mother exclaimed in horror, and Rachel was positive that she distinctly heard his father chuckle.
“No matter, Ma’am,” Rachel said calmly, ignoring Peter. “I was the one who started it, please forgive me.” With that, she turned and strode from the barn, not really caring if they followed her home or not. Something told her that perhaps she hadn’t made the most wonderful impression of herself for their first meeting. There was a chance, however, that they might admire- or at least give her credit for- her honesty.
****
Late that night, Rachel slipped quietly out the back door. Her parents were still talking beside the fire with their guests, Madam Eleanor and Sir Charles. The exasperating Peter had vanished, and Rachel assumed he had taken his bored and useless self to the room they had showed him would be his. She worked her way back through the village, and into the barn, effortlessly climbing up into the loft, and striding to her favourite spot within her favourite place, all a matter of three minutes. This favourite spot happened to be a pile of hay that was conveniently positioned beside the window, which truly served as a vent to let the dust out. Collapsing onto it, she stared out at the sky, admiring the stairs and soaking in the quiet. It was so peaceful!
Peaceful, yes…the meeting between Madam Eleanor, her husband and son and Rachel’s parents had been anything but that. Madam Eleanor and her mama had thrown themselves at each other with loud squeals, like school girls home on holidays. Ciaos had erupted as Rachel had run around with their house keeper, who was their only help, in a frantic attempt to hurry dinner and air out all the rooms. Both Peter and his father Sir Charles had been exceedingly proud, barely speaking a word to anyone and eyeing their surroundings in disdain. Rachel’s father had been polite and hospitable, though she thought that he too disliked Sir Charles. To her utter annoyance however, he seemed to favour Peter.
The hay rustled behind her, and Rachel jerked her head around, eyes wide.
A familiar chuckle reached her ears, “Good evening Rachel. Don’t worry, it’s only me.” Tristan stepped to her side, and threw himself down very ungracefully onto the hay. Tristan could never be called graceful, even for a boy he was uncommonly clumsy. Rachel supposed that a camel would be less awkward than him, though she’d never seen one, only read of them in books. They sounded fascinating, to say the least. Glancing sideways at Tristan, she pondered the over the chances of ever seeing him next to one, then she could compare their grace. Her eyes may have seen it, but it took her brain a moment to register that Tristan was sitting beside her, and when it completed the task she blinked, feeling startled.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in surprise, knowing Tristan he would normally be out and about, causing trouble with his friends.
“I figured you would be here,” he answered simply without looking at her, “You always are when you’re upset. I take it you don’t like your guests much?”
“I like Madam Eleanor, but not the others.” Rachel admitted, feeling slightly disloyal for saying so.
“Her son could use a good spanking to smarten him up.” Tristan agreed with a nod, and Rachel laughed.
“He could have used that years ago, but I doubt it would help now.” She replied with a sigh, the corners of her mouth twitching at the image of self-righteous, too-good Peter receiving a good old fashioned spanking. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever received one in his life. Rolling her eyes, she tore her gaze away from the stars and turned to look at her life-long friend. Tristan was extremely close to her, like the brother she had never had, but lately she had been avoiding him and he knew it well.
“Do you mind that I came?” he asked uncertainly, suddenly looking shy. Rachel raised her eyebrows, Tristan’s question and demeanour were both uncharacteristic.
“No, not at all.”
“Then why won’t you talk to me anymore? If I try to approach you, you always find something that needs doing, or somewhere else to go.”
Rachel sighed, uncertain how to answer. She didn’t know how to explain the changes in the way she saw him. The way her feelings were changing, becoming less those for a brother, and more those for…someone different. She didn’t want anything, least of all the senseless imaginings of a silly girl, to ruin their friendship. These strange reactions would pass, and then she would return to laughing, joking and talking with Tristan every moment of every day. Not only was it silly of her to imagine herself in love, or to even consider that he might love her, but Tristan was changing. He was growing restless, and wilder. When something went amiss in the village, it was Tristan and his friends that everyone turned to, with scowls on their faces and demands for explanations.
Tristan waited for her to break the silence, and then groaned in frustration. “Rachel please talk to me.” She turned to gaze into his deep brown eyes, pleading with her from underneath the floppy blonde hair.
“I’m sorry Tris, I really am. I guess I’m just not myself lately…”
“But why?” he protested, “I used to understand when something was wrong. I’d know what it was, and I’d know how to fix it. You used to come back to yourself in no time, but now I can’t see what it is and you won’t tell me. It’s not getting any better either.”
Rachel buried her face in her hands, allowing her long dark curls to drape down over her shoulders and block her from view. “It’s just that…” she mumbled, and broke off. No, she couldn’t tell him. “It’s just something I need to work through on my own.”
Tristan scowled, but gave in with a curt nod. “Fine,” was all that he said.
The petite girl glanced sideways at her friend, grinning at how childish he looked when he was upset. His ruffled blonde hair only completed the effect of the flashing brown eyes and deep pout. Once again, she was struck by how very different they were, in appearance as well as character. Tristan was strong and tall, with straight blonde hair and usually twinkling brown eyes, while Rachel, quiet and gentle always, was small and slight, with long dark ringlets and bright blue eyes. She was greatly admired for the combination of dark hair and light eyes, a sight not commonly seen in these parts. When they were small, Tristan and Rachel’s mothers had laughed, telling the two youngsters that they completed each other. They were perfect opposites, everything one didn’t have the other did. As both had grown up, the ladies had stopped telling them this, for the older they got and the closer to being ready to marry, the less appropriate it seemed.
“I’ve missed you.” She stated suddenly, breaking the tense silence.
Tristan raised an eyebrow sceptically, “Really?”
“Tris! Just because I’m having a few struggles lately doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you.” Rachel protested, hurt that he didn’t believe her.
The boy grinned suddenly, relaxing. “Darn you Rae, those sad puppy eyes are adorable, you’re too hard to stay angry with.”
Rachel laughed softly as she swatted at him playfully. “They are not puppy eyes! But that’s good, you had no reason to be angry in the first place.” Relief flooded her, Tristan was still Tristan, and she could act normally around him- as long as he didn’t ask questions about her previous avoidance.