Born to Run

Chapter 3: Captivation

Yet another love interest... Writers write of what their lives are not :P Keep this  in mind as  you read! ;) 

Dust caught in sunbeams floated down onto the elegant mantle as Brigitte dusted it thoroughly. Humming mindlessly to herself, she swept from one side of the room to the other, making sure everything was in proper order. The Prince, or so they called him, even though he was actually the advisor’s son, was very particular about cleanliness, and she was to make certain that no corner was left un swept. Besides, Brigitte thought to herself, this was a room that the Prince often occupied! It made her feel as though he was right there; beside her, watching her, waiting. 

Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. Her mother’s scolding came right back to her every time she thought of fancying the Prince. Brigitte, daughter! You should be ashamed of yourself! Fancying yourself in love with the Prince himself! You know better, Brigitte! We are a middle-class family! We would be lucky if the Prince so much looked at us!  

Mama was right, of course. The Prince had not even looked at her yet, and she had been here for a fortnight now.

But oh! The way her heart skipped a beat when he spoke! Surely it was true love, was it not? True, she was only eighteen, but did that really matter? Couldn’t love conquer all?

If only there was some way that she could make him see her!

Brigitte sat on the Prince’s chair, her forehead creasing in thought. All the possibilities raced through her mind, until finally, she found something.

The Prince often needed a dose of whiskey at night. It helped him sleep. She would change shifts with the maid… And then…

She stood, her plan formulating quickly. “Perfect”, she said to herself, smiling contentedly as she left the room.

(#) 

Heidi’s quill pen made slow scratches across the paper as she wrote. The corners of her mouth tightened in a grimace at the sound of the pen in the quiet of dawn. She was a writer, and because her mother did not approve of her writing, Heidi had to wake just before dawn to write without being discovered. Her writings would never be known to anyone, of course, but writing was her sole passion; her only method of self-expression.  

“What are you writing about?” a voice asked from behind her, piercing the quiet.

The writer froze, not wanting to turn around. She had been discovered. But she had been so careful!

“Heidi?”  

Slowly and hesitantly, Heidi turned to face her sister. She closed her eyes, expecting a reprimand.

When only silence followed, she opened her eyes, only to see Louise’s mouth curved in an amused smile. “Must I ask you again? What are you writing about?”

Relief flooded Heidi’s thoughts, and she quickly recovered from the immediate shock. “T-the story,” she began slowly. “‘Tis about a farmer.”

“Only a farmer?” Louise’s eyebrow rose sceptically.

Heidi smiled. “You know me, Louise—of course not!”  She swatted her sister’s arm gently. “‘Tis about a woman as well…who becomes loved by the farmer.” 

Louise’s hazel eyes sparked with recognition of the plotline. “Does true love prevail?”

Her sister thought for a moment, tapping her chin slowly. “Not entirely. It wouldn’t be believable if true love did,” she smiled. “No, at first, the woman flees. She can’t decide if she loves the farmer or not, so she picks the easy way out, and goes away for a time.”