SERENDIPITY

[PART I] ~1~ Broken Ceramics And Rejected Jo ✔️

Dear Reader,

I extend my deepest gratitude to you for embarking on this literary journey with me. As I humbly ask for your patience and understanding, let me assure you that the initial chapters of this story will soon undergo a transformative editing process. Even as I acknowledge my shortcomings as a writer in comparison to literary giants like Jane Austen, I implore you to bear witness to the evolving nature of my craft.

Formerly Forbidden

••••••

Copyright © 2017 Isabella Aduah.

All rights reserved. This publication, in its entirety or in part, is strictly prohibited from reproduction, distribution, or transmission in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the explicit written permission of the publisher. Unless in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

While portions of this book are fictional, any references to actual historical events, places or persons, living or dead, are used purely for creative purposes. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Sincerely,

Isabella

...•...•...•...

The name Mrs. Johnson rang through the halls like a warning bell, signalling my impending doom. I let out a frustrated growl as I quickly covered the steaming coffee with a lid, mentally preparing myself for the scolding that was sure to follow.

"Raquel!" Mrs. Johnson's voice carried a sense of urgency, "Will you hurry up?" My heart racing, I hastily made my way to the door, unaware of the young gentleman approaching from the opposite direction.

With a loud crash, the saucer and mug shattered into a million pieces, the fragrant coffee now a brown stain on the pristine floor. "Sorry, uh...Raquel, right?" he stuttered, his eyes focused on the mess at his feet. "My apologies, I was too engrossed in my phone and failed to see your approach." As he knelt to pick up the broken ceramic pieces, bits of crumbled cookies littering the floor, I couldn't help but notice the genuine contrition in his voice.

I stood there, stunned and embarrassed, as he continued to clean up the mess we had created. His calm demeanour in the face of such a disaster was a stark contrast to the chaos I had caused. In that moment, I realized that perhaps not all who crossed my path were unkind, and I felt a glimmer of hope in the possibility of redemption.

As I collected the remnants of shattered ceramics and scattered cookies, I offered my apologies to the gentleman, "Pardon me, sir, I had failed to catch a glimpse of your arrival." An inexplicable tension filled my being, as I dreaded Madam's reaction to this mishap.

With a sheepish grin and a scratch of his head, the young gentleman offered, "I shall take the blame for this, and inform my mother of my fault." Just then, Madam's presence surged forth like a tigress ready to pounce, her gaze darting between her son and me, as if daring me to explain.

"What is the meaning of this?" Madam bellowed, her voice echoing through the corridors, "And you, have you no manners at all?" Her words fell upon me like an avalanche, and I quivered at the thought of what was to come.

But Sir Daniel was quick to interject, his voice a soothing balm, "It was my fault, Mother. I implore you, let her be. Joanna will prepare another one for you." As he turned to make his way to the kitchen, Madam's eyes remained fixed on me, her brows furrowed in disbelief.

"I see," she finally spoke, her tone a mixture of confusion and irritation, "You defend this maid?" Her expression was a curious blend of disbelief and contempt.