Forgetting The Throne

Chapter 1

Abella Lourdington.

“Ouch, Beth that hurts.” I told my maid. She was tightening my corset behind me.

“My apologies Miss, but Mastress Lourdington’s orders.” She yanked on the ribbon more.

I winced, and clenched my hands into fists. I could see myself in the stand-up mirror on the wall. The white corset was pulled tight around my waist.

“I don’t care about her orders. My orders are to stop.” I said with a rude tone.

She dropped the ribbons, and they floated to my sides. “I’m sorry, Miss.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry too, Beth. Will you please stop with the corset and help me with my dress?” I turned to face her, with a sweet smile plastered on my face.

She returned my smile with a shy one. “Alright, Miss.” She turned me around and tied my corset after tightening it a little bit more. She picked up my dress that was lying on my bed.

I hate this dress. It’s long and white, and has lace all around the inside that just itches me the whole day. You can’t even see the lace from the outside, so why have it on the inside? Just to irritate me?

“I know you dislike this one, Miss Abella.” Beth said, unlacing the dress. “Mastress Lourdington’s orders. She said there was going to be a big dinner tonight, and you must look your best.” She smiled, “So she sent me.”

I giggled. “You’re my favorite maid. All those other ones are just rude.”

She smiled, “Thank you, Miss.”

“Why do you call me Miss?” I asked, sitting on the edge of my bed, in my white undergarments.

She thought for a second. “I always thought it was a sign of respect.”

I nodded. “I agree. But it’s too formal. Call me Abella.”

“Abella.” She smiled.

I smiled back.

“Let’s get you in your dress, alright?” She took my wrist, and urged me up.

I groaned. “Fine.” I stood up, and raised my arms as the scratchy fabric was slipped over my head.

Beth laced up the back, and made a few minor adjustments then smiled. “You look beautiful, Miss- I mean, Abella.”

I laughed. “Thanks.” I went to sit at my vanity. “Hair or makeup?”

“Makeup.” She picked up the white powder and started patting it on my face.

“I don’t see why all this goop is necessary.” I stated.

“Me either, but it’s-”

“Mastress Lourdington’s orders. Like always.” I smiled as I finished her sentence.

Beth nodded, and put jelly on my lips. “Pucker.”

I did as she said. “It’d be easier to put all this on my hands and just smear it on my face.” I laughed.

Beth giggled. “And faster!”

We both laughed.

I heard a click, and a gasp.

“Bethany!”

I turned my head to see my mother, otherwise known as Mastress Lourdington, Queen of England, 1781, glaring at Beth.

“Why are you speaking? You know it’s against the rules!” She yelled.

I spoke up. “Mother, I was talking to her. She must speak when spoken to, right?”

I glanced at Beth, who was shaking with fear.

Mother pursed her lips. “I suppose.” She left the room, slamming the door.

“That woman is such a… a…” I frowned. “I’m sorry Beth.”

She turned to face me. “Nothing was your fault, Miss. Now let’s finish your hair.”

I sighed. Obviously Beth wasn’t going to be my friend.

“Are you ready for the dinner tonight, dear?” My mother asked me.

I was sitting in front of the warm fire, reading. When Mother came in I had to hide my book; she thinks women should not read or write.

“Yes, Mother.” I smiled a perfectly polite smile at her, and her group of friends smiled at my mother.

“Your daughter is so polite, Mary.” One said.

“Yes, Mary, you’re child is so well mannered!” Another gushed.

I kept my fake smile plastered on my face.

“Thank you ladies. It is hard to raise a child now a days.” She smiled, and led her friends out of the room.

She doesn’t raise me. Beth pretty much raised me, while Mother was out with other men, instead of Father.

Father.

I hid my book under the cushion in the chair I was sitting on, smoothed my dress, and walked the corridors to visit my Father, the King of England.