Two years back,
'What are you doing today Miss Abigail'?
'Language. And really Naomi, have i not told you not to call me "Miss",it is Abigail between the two of us '.
'Yes ma'am-'
'Abigail'
'Yes Abigail'. She smiled, pleased to have gotten her way.
'Come on let's go. Miss Venice should be waiting for us'. We hurried upstairs to Abigail's schoolroom.
Miss Venice was round. Her middle jiggled when she walked and you could see the many stomach folds behind her tightened girdle. She had a chubby, smiley face with quaint facial features, a sweet, calm demeanor but had a mean streak about her. Her pretty long fingers were almost alway fiddling with the ropes on her gown. And you really couldn't see her belly folds unless you truly looked.
But Miss Venice had one problem - apart from, in the societies eye, the fact that she was a score and four years and yet unmarried and that she was French -, she was lazy. Ahh yes, she wouldn't mind delegating her work to others so she might cool her feet and eat bonbon. I can't just understand why a person would choose to be lazy when there was alot of work to be done, but i suppose i wouldn't understand, my life had not been one of luxury and free living.
Miss Venice smiled at us both then addressed Abigail.'Bonjour mademoiselle Abigail. You are ready for your lessons this morning, yes'? She continued without pause. 'Today we will learn the history of Latin and how it became of importance to the Englishman'.
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And thus began my life as a hand maid.
I learnt mundane things like; how to sew, how to embroider, how to knit. How to style a hair, how to choose a dress according to the hair style. How to sit, how to walk, how to drink a cup of tea. How to address my masters, when to speak, when not to speak. The art of dancing, singing and playing an instrument. The act of serving, acting as a chaperone, acting as a wallpaper. What to say, what not to say. I remembered my mama's words to me and tried my best to blend in, knowing that in three or four years time, if i were to be an irreplaceable asset, I had to be in the good books of four important people; Mrs Stanley, the Stanley men and Abigail herself. I knew that in order for Abigail to be the Lady she was meant to be, i had to become one myself. So i learnt to write and read.
The Stanley's owned one of the biggest houses in the countryside, which contained many rooms. It also held a library. It was there i often let myself be lost in, on several days when Abigail is taking her afternoon nap. And when the dinner bell is rung, i'd sneak back quickly to my room to dress for the evening.
It was on one such afternoon that i came across the story of my people, how they had suffered and had been tortured and subjected to slavery through the years. I discovered the ugly truth ot the leaders of the other nations and their corrupt dealings. As i read, it dawned on me that i was reading the sufferings of my people in the very land of the people whose hands they had fallen into in deep tragedy. I thank the person who had courage enough to write the grotesque happenings of the past, still infesting us even in the present. I did wonder what Mr Stanley had it for though.
Then i learnt of the history of other countries and their culture, and England and its culture. I learnt the history of England; the reigns of the kings and queens, from the accession of the Saxon king Alfred the great. A lot of things affected the course of history: wars, revolution, struggles between king and parliament, treaties, and alliances. More that once, England was in danger, more than once, English warriors occupied large areas in Europe.
However, these happenings did not always affect greatly our lives, the ordinary people of England. Most of us were farmers, living far from big civilization. Sometimes some village lad would come back with stories of French wars - Miss Venice was full of tales that her mother had told her and her grandmother had told her mother -, or some wandering pedlar or friar brought news of far-away happenings.
That was all we knew then - before a bit of civilization came trickling in -, living in the wide spaces of the countryside of the world beyond. Age after age the countryman was content with the life of his ancestors.
Kings and queens came and went, but the ploughing and harvesting went on. Life in the countryside might have been full of hard work but the air was clean and life was a lot less chaotic.
'What is this'? Lord Montclair was fingering the gift I had given him, wrapped in an old newspaper and a ribbon -that I had sniffed from Abigail's collection, knowing she wouldn't miss it- tied around it.'It's your birthday present '. I said.'But my birthday is-''Is tomorrow, February 29th, I know, which now makes me feel like laughing. Lord Montclair, if your birthday is on every leapyear; how old are you really'?. He grinned. 'That's a secret'.'You're 10 years old, perhaps'.'Ha'! He scoffed. ' I celebrate my birthdays on the 28th of February of the 1st of May if it's not a leap year. So I am allegedly an adult'.'Hmm. Mhm'. I smiled, unconvinced. 'You wouldn't understand' he said, shaking his head at me.'What did you get me'?'Its a-''You know people won't normally tell you what they got for your birthday'. He interrupted looking slightly surprised.'Bible'. I finished. He sat up straighter and stared wide-eyed at me, mouth slightly agape.'You got me a bible for my birthday
'Have you spoken to lord Montclair'? This was the first thing I asked Abigail after I knocked on her door in a low scratch and she called me in.'Yes', she smiled, she was writing on her table and I sat on the stool just like I used to when we were younger. 'Can you believe'? She swerved around to face me, her writing forgotten at the moment. 'As rumors go, lord Montclair never says sorry. He did though, to me, apologizing for calling me a country bumpkin'. She smiled, pleased that he'd only ever apologized to her and also apologized for calling her names.'Oh I'm sure that's not the case, surely. He does apologize...when it is necessary'.'Then the necessity of it must be very sparse between'. She retorted back.'Do you think his apologizing to you means something'?'I think the frequent visit he pays to my grandfather's home means something'. Abigail sounded very confident from her reply and I suspected she was softening towards him.'Do you think he means to court you'? Abigail succ
From now know, I'll make sure such encounter never happened again, as long as I can help it.°°°°°°°°°°°°°°That was unfortunately, not what happened. After that day, he seemed to always be everywhere, almost. He was soon a regular visitor, I don't know if I can call him a visitor still, to the baron's household.What was it with this man? I grumbled after another, recent taunting from him. Was it that he had done all the work for his life time when he was much younger? And now he was as free as any man could wish. He should take his free time some places else like play chess or checkers with some older men or whatever it was. Although I was not the brunt of his availability. No, that is not correct. Although I was the brunt of his sudden free time with which he used frequenting the baron's home, Abigail was suffering a similar plight. 'Can you believe'! She exclaimed, as she was once again pacing around her room while I sat on a stool, studiously sewing. A lot of unbelievable thing
Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. I fainted. °°°°°°°°°°°°°° Murmuring broke through my daze. Murmuring turned to words as I swept in and out of consciousness. '... Must take her inside'. Abigail? 'I cannot milady', a man's voice filtered past my ears as if far away. '.... Master...' 'Take her to her room, leave her on her bed. When she wakes up, she would take care of herself', lady Georgiana interjected, sounding sharp in my head. 'Yes my lady'. I was lifted up into the air and I fell back into slumber. °°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°° Weeks later, I was hurrying through the garden, a short cut to the kitchen. I was hurrying across the garden and suddenly, I was shoved into an alcove, my back pressed painfully against the wall - what was wrong with my life? Had I been born under a bad consternation? When I was peacefully minding my quiet existence, trouble came looking for me, when I went looking for trouble, trouble was dutifully following me closely behind. When I noticed someone was lookin
I woke up with a start and sat up straight on my bed. It couldn't be, could it?.My room was still covered in pools of darkness but I knew it would be filled with daylight soon. I got down, made my bed; straightened my blanket and puffed the pillow. Dressed in the dark and stepped out to the servant's wash room which was thankfully not in use. I stepped out of the wash room and my day began.All morning, i was not myself. When I heard a deep voice, I jumped,when I heard heavy foot steps coming my way I swerved around only to see a male servant walking by. 'You're acting very strangely today'. Stated Abigail in the presence of lady Georgiana and her abigail, Gloria, a slim girl in her twenties with long black hair like her mistress and barely there eyebrows - I always knew there was something odd about her face. We were up in the solar where Abigail and lady Georgiana were engaged in a compilation embroidery making.'It's the nerves my
I had pictured Marquess Montclair to be a black haired devil with a mischievous smile. Moreover, that was exactly how his friend, Viscount of Bart, Viscount Neville looked; his black hair was brushed- or gelled-, to perfection, no single strand out of places, his lips curved in a mischievous tilt as he appeared to listen with rapturous attention to what Abigail was saying to a small group of the crowd around the table, him included. But as I moved around replaying glasses and plates, I noticed that his eyes kept wandering down her cleavage. Despicable, I concluded.Marquess Montclair, on the other hand, had ruffle wavy blonde hair that looked as if a hand had run through it many of times. The chandelier above illuminated his hair making it look like a halo around his head. His head was bent as he muttered something in low voice to an elderly man sitting by his side - whom I recognized as Mr Nelbet, a business associate of Mr Maxwell and oft came to tea-, who roared with laught