My Heart Skips a Beat (One shot)

“This is where you live?” I turned to Fran, my orphaned best friend.

     A week ago Fran had received a message from her parents, who never contacted her but sent her grandmother money for Fran (Mr. and Mrs. Herbert died in an accident and according to the will the house is given to Fran).

     “Will live,” she corrected “and it’s not like I’m alone you’re with me right?” she looked at me, hopeful.

     I shook my head. I can’t be staying here when there’s much to be done in the village. “For now”

     She gave a heart-wrenching sigh then began to pull me along cheerfully so we could both examine the interior of her new house. The house, or a mansion really, was vast and very classy. With designs that are unique to us and fragile-looking objects proudly standing on tables that gleam white and gold. There was also a chandelier hanging on the round ceiling, making the house look even more like a mansion.

     “Wow,” we both said together. Who would have thought, Franchesca Derling (Or should I say, Fran Herbert) is a millionaire?

     “Miss Franchesca” a maid bobbed a curtsy in front of us “My name is Betsy and I am your house keeper. Your luggage will be taken by the butler, Marcus.” She motioned for the guy, who opened the door to us, to come forward and take our luggage.

     He bowed low and took out luggage then marched upstairs. Fran, flustered, tried to curtsy back but ended up with a bow instead.

     “I’ll be blunt with you ma’am, I didn’t know the Herberts had a daughter and why they’d leave the house to you.” Betsy said.

     “Uh… actually, I uh don’t have experience with such a big house… it’s huge,” Fran said, wondering what she could have said that made the house keeper’s tone sound irritated.

     “Yes, well, you haven’t been to the villa yet so as instructed I will have to hire a tutor for your—”

     “Please, don’t, I’ll be attentive to you… if you have time. I’m not really good with people and I would like it if someone familiar to the house would teach me” Fran begged.

     “Very well, ma’am, and as for your manners and way with people, why you have none at all; you haven’t even introduced your friend yet.” Betsy eyed me from head to toe.

     “She’s—”

     “My name is Carissa, ma’am, I came as companion of Fran— I mean, Franchesca— and don’t mean any trouble at all.” I curtsied low, the way I had seen in movies.

     Betsy nodded her approval then began to show us around the house, she had just taken us to the door when she finally said;

     “Now, ladies, I don’t think you would like making much noise here. The grand master is very short-tempered. Now, I shall take my leave. Jenny, your maid, will be here shortly,” and with that she curtsied and left.

     “The grand master… who do you think he is?” I asked Fran, once we were in her room.

     “Hmm… well, I don’t really know… I don’t know what to do now. Oh Rissa, won’t you change your mind?” Fran looked at me with pleading brown eyes.

     I just shook my head, letting my red tresses fall loose around my face, and told her that we should go to bed so we can have an early start tomorrow. The next few days passed in such a blur, Fran had enough time with her lessons so I was left to poke around the ‘house’ and wonder who the mysterious unnamed grand master is. One day though, as Fran was in the library with Betsy, I was walking in the garden and caught a glimpse of a shoe. How odd.