Featured on @HistoricalFiction @NARomance
🥇2023 Rose Gold Awards
🥇Literary Book Awards
Story of Edith&Andre:
"O'Lady Liberty divine!
For thee alone, my life I'd resign:
I beseech all to carve thy name so fair,
On my tombstone, for all to stare...
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The boarding school attached to the convent that Fiona entered following the Marquis had a long history. It had produced many well-regarded debutantes in high society, earning a reputation among noble families.
Most of the girl students here came from distinguished families, but there were also some from the aspiring bourgeoisie who eagerly sent their daughters in, hoping they would be imbued with the grace of ladies, and perhaps build relationships with the daughters of the aristocracy.
These girls were sent here to be raised and educated by nuns, following the religious discipline, in order to preserve their unblemished chastity. They were treated as precious treasures, not to be held tightly in one's grasp, but merely given away as gifts.
In the reception room, they were greeted by a reverend old nun with gray hair.
"What a cutie! I swear I have never seen such a beautiful child," the nun exclaimed with sincerity, taking Fiona's tiny hand and turning to the Marquis with a smile. "You can trust Saint-Matilda Convent, Monsieur the Marquis. We will return to you a perfect little lady."
Fiona timidly and expectantly looked around this strange new world. She had donned the same blue uniform as the other girls, with a white bonnet on her head. It's a pity that her banner-like fiery red hair had been scrupulously tucked into the brim of the bonnet with a hairnet, otherwise, this outfit could truly evoke some beauteous associations.
The girls were all of different ages, the oldest already sixteen or seventeen, while the youngest still speaking in an infant voice. Most of them gathered in small groups, chattering away, leaving Fiona alone, nervously fiddling with the silver Holy Spirit hanging from her chest, unsure of how to fit in with her classmates.
As they listened to the nuns' daily service in the chapel, the girls kneeling beside her clasped their hands together in prayer, exhibiting a posture of both heartfelt and deliberate piety. Quietly observing their mannerisms, Fiona mimicked their hand gestures and muttered some words under her breath.
The new girl noticed how their hands were all as creamy and soft as velvet, while her own still bore traces of calluses and frostbite that hadn't completely healed. After finishing her prayers, she tucked her fingers into her sleeves, feeling inferior and sad.
As the bell for recess rang out, the girls, tall and short alike, streamed out of the classroom. They ran around the yard, playing and laughing, their joyful voices like wind chimes flying over the lifeless high walls.
The matron nun, her face veiled in black, watched on ghostly from afar. Yet she could not in the slightest deter their exuberant joy - this solemn garden haunted by religious spirits, was in an instant flooded with sunlight.
Sarah and Claudia, girls of twelve or thirteen, were the centre of the children. Miss Sarah Hensfield's elder aunt was a prominent duchess in the area who had also been educated at this ancient convent school. She was now one of the important sponsors of the sanctuary.
