Athenia's Choice (ON HOLD)

Athenia's Choice: Chapter One

Chapter One

Nearly seven years later...

None of what I am about to tell you would have happened if I hadn’t betrayed Mama and Father’s trust. It was my choice to do so. It all began with Mrs Phillips, my tutor. She thought seeing our gracious Queen Victoria progress through Tunbridge Wells would finish off my ‘Monarchy’ project perfectly.

However, I knew Mama would never agree, for she barely let me out of her sight. She never fussed over my siblings, Casper, Oliver, and Mariettia so much. They all roamed the grounds of Bodiam Castle, where we lived, permitted freedom, whilst I was confined to the study with Mrs Phillips. If anyone should have been given tutoring, it was Oliver for he seemed brainy as he read many books.

I lived life in a carefree manner, which often led to stern words with Father. He did not seem to care for our actual health or well-being. Oh no, it was money this, money that. I had heard Mrs Phillips sniffing one day we were ‘new money’, and to be frankly honest, we were.

We had lived in the cottage at Bodiam Castle until I was eight but the owner, Mr Jack Fuller, had requested for it to be knocked down, and my family and I to be cleared out. Father had some newfound money, which enabled us to stay at the castle.

We were all contentedly prosperous by the time Mama’s last child, Mariettia came along, whom I enjoyed looking after when she came back from her wet nurse. She would clap her hands, then cry, ‘Theeny!’ My name is not ‘Theeny’, but Athenia. Oliver was the luckiest of us all, having not been given a strange name!

I have gone off the point a bit, and must return to where I conspired to leave the castle’s safety to please Mrs Phillips. On the other hand, perhaps I wanted to escape the bland, rambling countryside to give myself a sense of adventure. I was nearly 15, yet I had hardly seen much of the world I yearned to explore.

Father did his fair share of exploring, going on long trips by horseback. When he returned, we would embark on a day out to Ewhurst, Sandhurst, or Northiam, to buy fripperies, as if he had suddenly claimed more money. So a secret trip to Tunbridge Wells was the perfect way to behave like the little vixen I was gradually turning into.

On the actual morning of the trip, I arose earlier than usual. I had buried Father’s gold pocket watch underneath my rich feather pillow, which made sleeping almost unbearable. I quickly donned the drab cotton dress I had stolen from the laundry; it most probably belonged to one of the maids. However, I needed to be unrecognisable in the instance a search party was sent out for me.

I had carefully planned out a distraction, but I was afraid it wouldn't last long. Being such a dreadful cook, I made do with some bread and cheese I took from the kitchens.  I also pocketed a biscuit, and then set my plan into action.

Guilt swelled up in me because I knew my next action wasn’t going to be a nice thing. I would be soundly punished when I returned home. I peered through the keyhole of Mariettia’s door to check she was sleeping. Her silky blonde hair was spread out over the pillow in tangled locks.

Because she was younger, she was not allowed to lock her door. I was almost taken aback that my over-protective Mother even let me do that! I devilishly locked Mariettia’s bedroom door, afterward pocketing the key in my satchel. Then I dashed down the carpeted corridors and out the grand castle door, my heart beating wildly.

“Freedom,” I cried to myself, tearing through the uncut grass, which was as fresh and dewy as the look of pure exhilaration on my eager face. As far as I could see, greenery stretched before me like a never-ending monologue. I didn’t stop running until I reached the village of Bodiam, where my stitch was so bad I almost collapsed!

Whilst resting on a bench in the centre square of the peaceful, homely- looking village, I busied myself by pinning up my hair. Mama thought pinned-up hair was ungainly on me and I looked too ‘man-like’. She always found faults about me.

My satchel was now less heavy as I had donned the black boots that were inside. I felt most anxious, since my dress looked much like my itchy nightdress, but on the other hand, it would help people never hazard a guess that I was a wealthy man’s offspring! However, my dashing violet eyes might have given away my identity.

Mrs Phillips’ carriage, which was not as grand as the family one, drew up in Bodiam around ten minutes later. There was hardly anyone else around; the village was in a tranquil state. She waved me over.

“Is that you Athenia?" She obviously recognised me by my striking red hair that was constantly messy!

"It is! Oh whatever are you doing in the village without a companion? Your mother must be dreadfully beside herself!” Mrs Phillips fussed, pushing her spectacles further up her nose.

“Oh no, Mrs Phillips, my Mama granted me permission to meet you here. She’s only just gone,” I lied, climbing up onto the shabby leather seat beside her. There was not much room as she was a portly and lethargic woman in her middling forties who took up most of the space.

“But whatever are you wearing those poor person’s clothes for? Her Grace will not believe you are the daughter of Mr Phillipe Reynalds!” my tutor criticised exasperatedly, the lines on her forehead going up. In fact, most of her skin was wrinkled along with her shabby clothes that had been patched and mended many a time.

“Do you want to be late?” I snapped,  eyebrows pinching into a frown.

"Don’t be so rude, child! Wherever have you put your manners?” I rolled my eyes at this remark.

The carriage, which was painted a horrible shade of brown, turned around, setting off for Tunbridge Wells. The roads had many potholes so the journey was an unpleasantly bumpy one. Luckily, I had my biscuit to eat, but I don’t think it did my stomach any good, as after my nibble, I felt somewhat queasy!

Mrs Phillips was ever so beastly, making me recite Latin phrases. This was meant to be a treat- honestly! As we crossed the border into Kent, the roads became clogged up with gold-plated to downright shabby carriages. Mrs Phillips kept requesting the time and twitching irritatingly, so I called to the driver and asked:

“Excuse me, but could we possibly go a bit faster, please?” I was also getting rather impatient at this point.

“Don’t be so outspoken, child!” Mrs Phillips scolded. Mama frequently hushed me for my constant chattering, and Father reprimanded me if I spoke out of place during meals. I hoped I could talk to Her Grace without being told off! Mrs Phillips doubted I would actually talk to her, but I had made that my target…