Don't forget to enjoy your stay and leave me a tag ;D
As in on cue I looked up to see my step-mother standing at my door way. She wasn't a tall woman or an extremely beautiful one, but there was something about the way she held herself and the set of her jaw line that demanded peoples attention. As soon as Camellia and I felt her presence in the room we both froze in mid flight ...or in Camellia's case mid flight and mid word. Her mouth still shaped to form a very vulgar word, Camellia turned to facer her mother. Quickly composing her self, she marched over to her mothers side and started nagging at her to do something about me. Silencing her daughter with a swift wave of her hand my step-mother turned to face me.
“Alana .. what is this?” she asked in that cold and icy voice of hers, “I asked you to do one simple little task and you couldn't even get that one right. Didn't I specifically tell you to air Camellia's dress out and lay it out on her bed?” I turned my face towards the floor and clasped my hands in front of me. “Yes...” I replied trying to keep the vexation out of my voice. Numerous other run ins with my “mother dearest” had taught me that any sign of emotion only served to intensify the punishment I'd receive later. “Yes what?” my step-mother asked her voice dipping lower in a mensing manner. For seemingly petite and kind woman, at least in the eyes of popular society, the malicious energy around her was almost admirable. “Yes Ma'am” I replied grudgingly. I'd have been much happier calling her the “Wicked Witch” or “Evil Step Mother”, but common sense told me that infuriating my step-mother further was not the wisest course of action.
“And did you do as I asked?” my step – mother continued. At this point I looked up from the floor and into her eyes , “Yes Ma'am ” I replied , “ I aired out Camellia's dress and I also placed it on her bed.” From the tightening of her mouth, I could tell my step-mother wasn't exactly happy with my smart ass reply. “Very well... if you don't want to own up to what you've done to the dress you'll just have to pay the price,” she informed me gathering her skirt up in her hands and turning to leave, “ Do supper tonight and make sure Camellia's dress is as good as new before we get home.”
I was prepared for this sort of punishment.. my step-mother seemed to enjoy depriving me of food. Camellia how ever was not satisfied with her mother's punishment “But Mommy!” she pleaded, “She ruined the dress! My favorite one! The little monster has to be punished Mommy!” Bitch I thought under my breath I AM being punished! Alright ... so not exactly the worst punishment or the most thought out ( After all the cook IS my old nurse which makes it pretty easy for me to get bits and pieces of food when I get hungry) but a punishment non the less. My step-mother thought adored her daughter, and anything Camellia wanted she got .. including a more dramatic punishment for me.
“Alright Camellia dear,” she said briskly, “What sort of punishment do you want to give Alana?” I watched as Camellia's brow wrinkled in concentration. As the seconds ticked away at became minutes I was happy to note that apparently Camellia's private lessons with her foreign tutors hadn't done anything to solve her... intellect problem. You see Camellia is a prime example of “good looks...and not much else going for the poor girl” syndrome. She had the ability to make a man trip and stumble over his words with just a single glance his way, but things like say... words, math, and generally just life confused her. Obviously Camellia's lack of intellect was something very amusing to me. She might have gotten the better looks, loving (though evil) parent, and my bedroom, but at least I got the functioning brain.
Eventually when even my step-mother's patience had begun to run thin, Camellia had a light bulb moment by her standards, a stroke of pure genius. Turning to her mother she said, “Mommy make Alana come with me to court for my first season! Make her come as my..” She paused her to giggle slight under her breath before continuing, “...maid!” Camellia, still giggling to herself, clapped her hands together obviously over joyed that she'd managed to think of such a punishment for me. Internally I cringed. I'd heard enough tales from the personal attendants of some of the more “well-breed” family's daughters to know that going to court was no picnic for any maid.
I've always felt they should just calling “going to court” what it really is... “going to hunt for a husband”. Not just any husband of course ... someone of higher social rank then you who made a substantial amount of money and had at least two houses. Love had nothing to do with “going to court” in fact love would work in your disadvantage if you fell for the wrong man. No... going to court was purely business. The season consisted of four mothers of balls and parties, horse carriage rides through picture perfect gardens, and heightened hopes for marital (or financial) bliss for the young noble women, but non stop orders for their heired help.
“Or in my case enslaved help,” I thought, sure that my step-mother would approve of Camellia's request. To my surprise she replied instead with “ Camellia dear, Mommy would love to send that wretched girl away with you to act as your little ... maid, but Rupert says he won't allow it.” was delighted and slightly disturbed to hear that Rupert, my father, was 1. at least aware of my existence but 2. not disturbed that his step-wife thought it normal to ask him if her daughter could keep his daughter as a servant. “Instead..” my step-mother continued obviously disgusted by the news she was about to deliver, “He insists that his unsightly, disrespectful, pathetic excuse for a woman daughter also takes part in this coming season.”
The surprise I'd felt at the proof that my father still remember my existence was nothing to the shock I received upon hearing that I was to take part in the season with Camellia. While I wouldn't mind having the nice gowns and roomy bedchamber that went along with a season at court, they weren't motivation enough to make mer forget the main objective of the season... to find a husband ASAP.
The idea of being dolled up and then sold of like some sort of piece of meat didn't exactly fill my heart with the kind of joy it seemed to with Camellia. Collecting my thought's quickly I caught my step- mothers eye ,watching as a smirk spread across her face. She continued to talk, “ I'm not that fond of you my dear and nothing in this world would thrill me more than to send you off and have you married to some low life scum bag within the year. The only reason I'm not jumping up and down with joy at the moment is that your father insists that you and Camellia travel together and above all else share a maid! The man knows nothing!”
Even I had to admit that my father showed lack of judgment... if I was going to be forced to go under his mandate the least he could do was not force me to have any more contact with Camellia then necessary! Of course I'd resist going for as long as possible but, knowing my usual tendencies it wouldn't be long before I was talked, wrestled, and eventually made to agree to go.
Anyways, in case your like my best friend and are currently asking yourself, “ Who in their right mind just gives up their bedroom?” I'd like to take this time to defend my self. I did NOT just hand over the bedroom! I did everything I could think of to remain in control of my own room, including resorting to writing to my father and throwing a temper tantrum. (A low I'd always told myself I would never sink too) But eventually after many days locked in the basement of our house and numerous nights without supper, I reluctantly admitted defeat. Camellia had the support of her mother, the mistress of the house while I...I had the support of the cook who used to be my nanny. You do the math on which one of us had the unfair advantage.
Closing the doors to my bedroom behind me I sat down onto my bed and removed from my night stand the one thing I'd been able to salvage from my room, my mother's childhood book of fairy tales. Even in the dim light of attic bedroom I could see the emerald green cover of that beloved book. It didn't exactly glow, but non the less its seemed to cast a sort of light over the plain walls and to bring a sense of peace to my mind. I gently stroked my hand down the side of the books spine before I pushed open the cover. Leafing through the pages I found my favorite story, the story Nanny had told me my mother had named me after , Alana bringer of Harmony. A little cheesy I'll admit but what can you expect from a children's book?
I' ve never felt I deserved the name my mother picked out for me. Alana means harmony, stone, as well as noble. I'm hardly the bringer of harmony , note the temper tantrum I was forced to have, and as for being a stone .. well I think they mean firm of mind, again not the worlds best description of me... the noble part of course seems to fit. But only because I happen to have been born into a noble family .. not because I've shown that I am noble, something very different. It might seem a little stupid to want to live up your name, but besides the furniture, book, and a few pieces of jewelry ... I have nothing else of my mother left. I want to make her proud of the daughter she died to give birth too... of the daughter who she named after her favorite childhood story.
I was jerked out my day dreams about my mother by my bedroom door being violently swung open and an enraged Camellia rushing in. “ You low life!,” she screamed as she stormed at me, “You good for nothing little whore!” Swiftly swooping and dodging to avoider her advances I made a rush for the door a slight smile on my lips. Playing pranks on Camellia had become on my favorite hobbies lately. “How could you?! My most beautiful dress... ruined!!” Yeah.. thats right she was so worked up over a dress ... then again it wasn't just any dress I'd gotten my hands on but the dress she'd been planning to wear to a dinner party Camellia and her mother where due to go to in an hour or so. I felt a ting of remorse creep into my mind but I swiftly reminded myself of what a witch my opponent was. “Camellia I swear it wasn't me!” I pleaded. No use confirming her accusations. The part of the game that made it so much fun was attempting to get away with the crime... something I had thus far been unable to do. “It wasn't you you say!? If it wasn't you then who was it you ....” Still ducking and dodging I tuned Camellia out.
Her dress wasn't even ruined! All I'd done was wrinkle it a little here and there .... and maybe un stitched a few bows... and a few buttons... but nothing that couldn't easily be fixed! I knew I'd be made to pay when my step-mother learned of what I'd done, but was it worth it to watch Camellia flying around my little room like a screaming banshee, her beautiful face contoured in anger and her blonde main of curls flying behind her as she ran and jump!
It wasn't material comforts of that room I missed so much but rather the fact that the room had once belonged to my mother when she was a young girl living in this house with her family. The room was still exactly as she had left it, a present she had been planning to give to her first born daughter. It bothered me immensely to think of my step-sister, Camellia, sleeping in her bed and storing her ghastly clothes in her closet. Alright so “ghastly” may be a tad of an overstatement.. or more a down right lie since Queen Camellia would never have allowed herself to be seen in anything but the finest of clothes. I've always believed it was this love for finery that lead to the fore mentioned bankruptcy of Camellia and her mother.
TO BE CONTINUED WHEN I HAVE TIME
