Pearls and Roses

1. Same Old, Same Old

            ⌠⌠ LEILA  🥀 ⌡⌡
That morning, there was a murder of crows on the rooftop or in any of the trees in the gardens; I could not tell. The series of loud caws made it impossible to focus on my book. Before I could open my bedroom window, a loud thud forced me out of the alcove.

I stumbled, then fell on my back. I stood up before anyone could walk in, covering my warming cheeks.

A shivering white bird was sitting on the windowsill. Its left wing was a patch of black from its neck and an old wound on its beak. I tapped the window twice to draw its attention, and it took the bait. "I'm opening the window now."

When it only blinked, I took that as a sign that it understood me, then opened the window.

Its gaze was still on me, blinking rapidly as if to keep awake. I looked for blood, broken bones....... anything, then carried it carefully in my hands. "You're okay now." I whispered, tucked my book in my underarm before walking out of my chamber and down the long stairs.

"My Lady? It's still early. Where to?" Clara, our housekeeper, said, tucking some draperies under her arm.

"The gardens." I walked away quickly before she could ask further questions.

  I wandered a stride further away from the manor, then placed the bird in the grass. "Here, let's see how you fare."

It remained stagnant. Still blinking at me.

Water. It must be thirsty.

  "Don't move." I pointed a finger at it before taking the brown back door to the kitchen, which was to the east, slightly hidden from the eye should one be standing in front of the manor. "How may I help you, my lady?" the chief cook, Mrs Price, said, straightening up.

Scents of fresh bread and stew greeted me, masked in soap. The blue dressing of the window above the white sink billowed into the gentle breeze. 

Few of the maids and cooks rushed to my side as I looked around the kitchen. "I'd like an old bowl, one that a bird can drink from......in a manner that it won't drown."

"A bird?" she asked. I smiled at her, "Yes."

  Mrs Price's thin brows furrowed, "Er....." She walked to the kitchen sink and pulled out a small silver bowl from the cabinet beside.

The kettle on the stovetop whistled, and a maid rushed to turn it off, walking around the table that was in the centre.

The faded yellow walls matched well with the black and white chequered floor. The kitchen itself wasn't small, neither was it big. A perfect size for most of the servants to move around without tripping off each other's feet or tumbling each other down. Beside the window were two opened doors; the first was an entrance into the halls. The second held stairs leading to the maids' quarters. 

  "Will this bowl suffice?" she asked.

  "Yes, thank you." I took it and filled it with water from the tap. Just as I was walking out, I recognised the butler, Mr Calnan's voice, "The lady is awake."

   I returned to an empty spot where the bird should've been. Called for it but nothing, heart heavy with the sentiment that it thought it was abandoned.

   It also meant that it wasn't too wounded to fly. That was a better thought.

Amidst the growing caws of the crows, I sat under the tree with my back leaning against it, and opened my book to continue reading. Ever slowly. Albeit, I found myself distracted by a postman on his bicycle, making his way through the driveway. The footman received him and took two letters from him, none of which I knew were mine, before the postman rode away, back from where he came.