𝐎𝐇 𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 ; lord tewkesbury

I.

          
╔═══════꧁꧂═══════╗

"And that is how you perfectly make a floral arrangement." Arabella turned to the group to show her masterpiece, glancing at Mrs. Romo with innocent eyes. Mrs. Romo seemed to take the bait easily enough, with a warm smile and brief nod of approval. I had to admit that it was quite beautiful, even if it was utterly useless. Each rose was placed in an orderly fashion, it's silky petals of pinks and reds brushing softly against each other.

Some of the other girls clapped in response, while Arabella curtsied, her beamish face returning gracefully to her desk.

I was just hoping that Arabella's finger would be pricked and she'd somehow fall into some cursed sleep and I'd never have to see her face again.

But that was a spinning wheel, not a rose, so I suppose I'll just have to deal with her for a bit longer.

Something about Arabella had always ate at my gut, ever since the first time I met her at age eight and she stole my basket of lunch and I had to go hungry the whole day. She had always been what I considered evil, horns practically pushing through her snowy blonde hair.

I could feel Arabella's glare from across the room before Mrs. Romo arrived at her side and took her firmly by the shoulder.

"Arabella shows all the attributes a young lady should. She has a sense of propriety and elegance that should be modeled by each one of you girls."

Blah. Blah.

This lesson was terribly boring and pointless if anything. If it's really true that arranging flowers by their colours is what's required to be a good wife, you could gladly count me out.

We could add that to the list of things I was bad at: cooking, baking, sewing, arranging flowers.

Mrs. Romo dismissed us with a short huff and retreated into the back room, hoping to have a break from all of the hollering that the younger children had bestowed upon her.

A few of the girls sat in a circle on the floor, unpacking their food that was packaged in their wicker baskets.

This happened to be their daily routine, they'd discuss everything from the daily papers to their suitors.

I remained seated in my desk, finishing up the last of the problems on the board. Even though I didn't feel I was the smartest, I wanted to be. Even if I was a girl and all a girl was to do is look pretty and be but a shiny toy, there was some desire to be smarter than any boy in the class. To read better. Solve better. Have meaning. And perhaps that is foolish to want, but I always did.

I had run late that morning and had forgotten to pack anything to eat, too busy trying to complete the chores before I would receive a yelling at.

I was actually hoping Lilia would be kind enough to share, but she didn't seem to be in the mood.

"Lilia, isn't it quite a shame that your sister will end up a lonely spinster?" Arabella joined the others after her parade of success, sitting sloppily on the wooden floor.

She said it just above a whisper, loud enough for those in the next set of desks to hear.

"Don't be silly, she isn't my real sister." Lilia shook her head hastily, blonde ringlets bouncing on her shoulders.