A/N: This chapter was a little awkward to write but I hope it's okay for you all!
Thanks for reading!
Dedicated to my Grandpa Ruben. I Miss You <3
© All Rights Reserved To D.S Lemonius 2011-2012
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Chapter One: Talking To The Moon.
I stared at myself in the full length mirror of my new room and sighed. My dress was tight against my figure and my chest felt almost bare; the neck line was far too low for my likings. It belonged to my late mother. The dress itself was beautiful; a pale green with light riffles around the skirt of it, though it did not feel right on me. When I looked at myself, I saw my mother. My father always informed me of the incredible similarities between mother and I but I did not see them until I was in her clothes. I thought that putting on her clothes would make me feel sad but I felt comforted and warm despite its thin material and revealing features. It sort of felt as if my mother’s arms was wrapped around me.
Agatha, one of the many maids in the Duke’s Villa, walked into my room with I brush and began to brush my long blond hair. I watched in the mirror as the old woman did so feeling a bit sick at the sight of the fat under her arms jiggle uncontrollably; I didn’t mean to sound rude but it wasn’t very pleasant. Her brown eyes were focused only on my hair and her face was calm and collected. Once she had finished brushing, she started to braid my hair neatly. “Your dress is rather tight and revealing my lady, are you sure you would not like to wear one of the more modest dresses Sir Alexander bought for you?”
“No thank you Agatha, this dress is very important to me. I will wear it today when I meet my fiancé as my mother wore the same dress to meet my father. It’s somewhat of a family heirloom. My fiancé would be pleased,” I had to stifle a shudder as I referred to my fiancée. Sir Alexander was my fiancé; the thought of it was horrible and saying it out loud as even worse.
“As you wish my lady,” she finished the last braid and stood back to see her finished product. She beamed. “You are very beautiful my lady,”
I smiled, “Thank you Agatha. ‘My lady’ is far too formal; you may call me Mercy if you like.”
“Oh, why thank you Mercy,” she said sounding a little bewildered. I was from a similar background to her – I wasn’t rich or of a high status –so I did not see why she treated me as a superior. I saw her as the same an equal.
We stood there looking in the mirror for a short while and my thoughts soon fell upon Sir Alexander. I felt a fluttering in the pit of my stomach thinking of meeting him. Would he be nice? Would he be arrogant? I’d never seen him before; I’d seen portraits of him as I was shown around the villa by Agatha this morn, though artists tended to make you look better than you actually do. A bigger question entered my mind and I found myself rushing my speech to the maid.
“Do you think Sir Alexander will be attracted to me?” If he did, then I’d have to carry out the plot my father made with guilt on my shoulders.
Agatha simply shook her head, placed a hand on my back and turned me to face away from the mirror. “He would be a fool not to fall in love as his eyes lay upon you. He will be impressed and happy to be marrying the prettiest maiden of the village and most likely others.” I grinned.
