19th Century Love Story

Prologue

Wilton House stood, rather forebodingly, in front of 11-year-old Dorothy Lloyd. She had just stepped out of the carriage that had been sent to collect her and her siblings from their old home. Her mother and father had just died and 6 of them had been sent to live with their Aunt and Uncle. Even though she was only 11, the small girl had a sneaking suspicion that they were only here because her uncle needed an heir to inherit his riches and his wife, Agnes, had only been able to produce girls.

"And what an opportunity this must have been." Dorothy thought bitterly. "Not one, but two little boys to be raised and nurtured like their own. We'll probably be cast aside." She looked to her left and saw Winnie, Gladys and Gertie, standing shyly next to Mona and Betsy, the two maids who were supposed to look after all of them, but tended to only look after Reginald and Cecil. They weren't even a year old, but Dorothy hated them. They were the reason her life was going downhill. Her mother had died giving birth to THEM. Her father had died trying to find someone to look after THEM. She balled her fists until her nails cut into her skin, leaving a red mark on her best blue dress.

She wanted to scream, kick the wall, make a fuss. She wanted to cry until she fell asleep. She wanted to yell at everyone who was making her do things. She wanted society to stop. She wanted to be a carefree young child, running through the woods. She wanted to live life like her brothers were going to, the brothers she hated. Most of all, she wanted to be back home, in her own bed. She wanted her mother to sing her to sleep, to kiss her on the head and say that everything was going to be alright. She wanted to tell everything to someone who loved her. She wanted to be able to vent her feelings to someone she knew. It was all so loud in her head. She didn't know what she wanted anymore, except to be back home, her real home. But that wasn't ever going to happen.

So, instead, she pushed what she was feeling down, folded her hands in front of her and turned towards the main entrance where a man, followed by a lady and 4 girls, was coming to meet them. She remembered what she had been told, time and time again. She was a little lady and she had to act like one. She needed to act her age. She needed to remember her place. She needed to be ready for what life threw at her. And that was when she stopped believing in what she needed and started to do what society wanted.