Chapter 4: You Don't Remember, But...
Christabel shook uncontrollably, darting uncertain glances around the dining hall as she carefully ate her morning soup. Lord Westerly was engaged in a heated conversation involving the latest war against a pair of unrelated countries; Lady Elizabeth was discussing the horrendous prices of a commodity Christabel had never heard of; Huxford and Macallister, although weren't in any conversations, were as silent as she was.
After being introduced to many, many offspring and their relatives, Chirstabel had been sat down next to Elizabeth and served relentlessly. The servants knew no "Stop." If it was on the table they served it to her, whether she wanted it or not.
It was fair to say that she was nervous. She had heard of the stories, of every woman before her and after her. Her children. Children. Marriage. Husband. Words of commitment. The thought made her cringe.
Not that she didn't want a family. On the contrary, she was quite looking forward to it. But, as every young girl does, she had dreamed of it as a thing of love and passion; not something forced on one through rituals. It was some comfort, however, to know that her spouse would be forced into the same predicament.
She cleared her throat, "Father..."
Lord Westerly held an hand up to her, his way of telling her to wait a moment.
She sighed, resisting the strong urge to tap her fingers impatiently. Finally he pulled himself away,
"Yes, Lady Christabel? What is it?"
Christabel cringed; she hated the way he addressed her. "Lord Westerly, sir, may I be excused?"
He regarded her with some amusement, "And go where, Lady Christabel."
"To my quarters, Lord Westerly." came her pseudo-pleasant response. "Where I would study the...artwork. Or, rather." she quickly corrected herself, "The artwork of old. Of course."
"Of course. You may be excused. Lord Huxford, Lord Macallister, will you please escort Lady Christabel to her quarters?"
"Yes sir." They said in unison, only too quick to stand. Christabel stood just as quickly.
Huxford and Macallister bowed as they left, and Christabel curtseyed her way after them.
Outside the room, Huxford, Macallister, and Christabel cringed.
"They are so stiff." Huxford commented.
"Did you see Father? He was so..." Christabel was cut off by Macallister,
"Concentrated."
"Exactly!"
"Lord, Lady, we should go." Huxford jabbed his head towards an eavesdropping servant.
Christabel and Macallister nodded, and the three of them quickly, and quietly, escorted themselves to Chirstabel's quarters.
After being introduced to many, many offspring and their relatives, Chirstabel had been sat down next to Elizabeth and served relentlessly. The servants knew no "Stop." If it was on the table they served it to her, whether she wanted it or not.
It was fair to say that she was nervous. She had heard of the stories, of every woman before her and after her. Her children. Children. Marriage. Husband. Words of commitment. The thought made her cringe.
Not that she didn't want a family. On the contrary, she was quite looking forward to it. But, as every young girl does, she had dreamed of it as a thing of love and passion; not something forced on one through rituals. It was some comfort, however, to know that her spouse would be forced into the same predicament.
She cleared her throat, "Father..."
Lord Westerly held an hand up to her, his way of telling her to wait a moment.
She sighed, resisting the strong urge to tap her fingers impatiently. Finally he pulled himself away,
"Yes, Lady Christabel? What is it?"
Christabel cringed; she hated the way he addressed her. "Lord Westerly, sir, may I be excused?"
He regarded her with some amusement, "And go where, Lady Christabel."
"To my quarters, Lord Westerly." came her pseudo-pleasant response. "Where I would study the...artwork. Or, rather." she quickly corrected herself, "The artwork of old. Of course."
"Of course. You may be excused. Lord Huxford, Lord Macallister, will you please escort Lady Christabel to her quarters?"
"Yes sir." They said in unison, only too quick to stand. Christabel stood just as quickly.
Huxford and Macallister bowed as they left, and Christabel curtseyed her way after them.
Outside the room, Huxford, Macallister, and Christabel cringed.
"They are so stiff." Huxford commented.
"Did you see Father? He was so..." Christabel was cut off by Macallister,
"Concentrated."
"Exactly!"
"Lord, Lady, we should go." Huxford jabbed his head towards an eavesdropping servant.
Christabel and Macallister nodded, and the three of them quickly, and quietly, escorted themselves to Chirstabel's quarters.
Post a comment
Please login to post comments.
Comments
Nothing but crickets. Please be a good citizen and post a comment for fifleaona