That Cinderella thing part 2
I reread it and I decided I really like it! So I shall attempt to continue it.
“We can’t go in through the main entrance!” I hissed when I saw where he was leading me. I resumed my struggles to get free, but his grip was firm.
“Why not?” The boy frowned, looking stupidly (and due to his beautiful looks, a little adorably) naïve.
“Because everyone will talk! I’m not even supposed to be here!”
“Hmm, good point.” He turned and began striding across the manicured green lawn, heading for the side of the mansion. “Then I suppose we’ll have to use the kitchen entrance.”
“Right,” I muttered, wincing as each of his footsteps crushed the pristine grass. I stepped off the path reluctantly, knowing that we were creating more work for some poor servant who would have to somehow cover up our footsteps later. Of course, this Edgar boy wouldn’t care; he was obviously one of those intellectual, high-and-mighty types who never looked beyond his own nose. No doubt his charity to me was based on some half-grown sense of morality that his rich daddy taught him on Mondays and Fridays.
I’d done gardening work for rich households before, even if their houses weren’t quite as grandiose as this one. I knew how they worked.
Edgar continued leading me around the side of the mansion until we got to a small service door, set into the bottom left corner of a wall filled with over a dozen glass windows. He knocked politely on the wooden door, and a few seconds later, a woman in a stained apron opened it, brushing a few strands of hair from her sweaty forehead.
When she saw the boy, she looked resigned. “Oh, it’s you,” she said without a smile. “Well, come - and who’s this?” she asked, noticing me for the first time.
“She’s just a peasant,” Edgar said with a touch of pride, as if I were his peasant. “I found her under -”
“It was a mistake,” I interrupted him, with a wince at the woman, hoping for some sympathy. I knew it was highly improper to interrupt a gentleman, but I couldn’t let him tell everyone I’d been hiding under his carriage!
The woman raised an eyebrow, not dismissive but not sympathetic either. “Well, how long will this mistake be staying here?”
Edgar frowned, evidently hearing the sarcastic undertones. “As long as I will it,” he declared firmly, asserting his authority over us. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Miss -”
The woman nodded and quickly disappeared into what was clearly a kitchen, as I caught sight of the huge fireplace, the tables stacked with vegetables and meat, and the bustling servants. A wiry man in a large white hat was yelling at a small boy, no older than thirteen, while pointing at a pot with a nasty-looking knife. He had to be the cook, although most chefs I knew were on the stockier, beefier side. As my ma always said, a good cook should be plump from eating his own food.
Edgar tugged me after him, breaking my examination of the kitchen. He didn’t spare a single glance at a servant girl who almost tripped over his long legs as he strode by, nearly dropping her stack of plates. I winced in sympathy but didn’t have time to properly apologise. What was with these arrogant types who never looked at anyone below their class!
We emerged in an airy hallway, with airy portraits of food and flowers adorning the walls. Silvery grey curtains were drawn back to reveal windows that looked over the front lawn. Even from here, I could see the faint traces of the path that Edgar and I had taken around the house.
Without hesitation, the boy led me to the left end of the hall, where a narrow wooden staircase led upstairs. I almost tripped, but caught myself on the rough banister. A sharp pain lanced through my finger.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Edgar immediately lost his preoccupied air and, turning around, grabbed my hand. “Was it a splinter?”
“I’m fine! Leave me alone!” I finally tore my hand out of his grasp, regaining my freedom for the first time since we were outside. However, I knew that if I tried to run, I wouldn’t get very far, so I didn’t even bother trying. “Where are you taking me, anyway?”
“Well, if you’re sure.” Edgar looked a little put out, as if he didn’t understand why I would refuse his help. “We’re going to the restrooms, the closet one’s upstairs. You can have a bath.”
“I am not bathing in your house!” I squeaked, remembering to keep my voice down just in time, in case someone important was nearby. “Do you have any sense of propriety?!”
He chuckled a little. “When you reach a certain point in life, you begin to understand that social conventions are a safety net for the close-minded,” he told me, somehow managing to sound only a little condescending. “I want to help you, since you seem lost and confused. A bath and a book are my usual solutions to that sort of thing.”
“I can’t read,” I reminded him.
“Then why don’t we go to the library and I can teach you?” Without waiting for a response, he took my wrist - a little more gently this time - and began leading me upstairs again. I sighed, but didn’t bother resisting.
We reached another hallway, slightly narrower that the first. The paintings depicted important-looking people with wigs instead of still lives. Edgar strode to the second door on the left and opened it, beckoning me in before him. I walked in a little hesitantly, wary of finding a nobleman smoking a cigar over the morning gazette or something (although it was afternoon).
I was greeted with a fairly large room, filled with books on every wall and a few floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. I suppose it was rather impressive to someone who liked that sort of thing, but to my illiterate eyes, it looked like a whole bunch of musty nonsense. The whole place smelled of old leather and dust.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Edgar whispered, closing the door behind us. “What do you want to read first?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied flippantly. “Something with pictures, I guess.”
“We don’t have picture books in here. How about a romance novel? I hear girls like that sort of thing.” Edgar let go of my arm and walked over to one of the bookshelves, running a finger across their dark spines.
I raised an eyebrow. “Romance? Sounds rather dull.” I spotted a cushy-looking armchair and wandered over to it, plopping down on the soft seat cushion that was probably highly illegal for a grubby servant girl like me.
“Just give it a try. It’s not about the content yet, until you learn to read sentences at least,” Edgar said authoritatively. “Here, let’s try this one. Come - why are you sitting there?! That’s my father’s seat!”
“Is it? Oops.” I stood up casually, rubbing my still-sore neck. That armchair had felt good. “Do I need to clean it or something?”
“Take this seriously, will you?” Edgar whispered fiercely, grey eyes flashing. “I’m trying to help you here!”
“And I don’t really want to be helped, thanks!” I retorted. “Why are you butting your nose into my life?”
“That’s not anatomically -” He stopped, taking a deep breath. “Let’s just sit on the floor.”
I shrugged and knelt on the shaggy grey-black carpet, making a halfhearted attempt to arrange my dress neatly. Edgar knelt next to me, brushing invisible dust off the carpet. He held a slim green novel with a title stitched in glossy silver thread.
He opened the book, flipping through a few near-blank pages until he got to a page with a large ‘1’ on it. “Okay, let’s start with letters. This is -”
“Wait, aren’t I supposed to read the title first?” I objected.
“It’s in cursive,” he explained patiently. “We can read it after you learned the main -”
“But what does it say?” I persisted.
He sighed, raking a hand through his dark hair - the first irritated gesture that I’d seen him make. “Sweet Sunlight,” he told me.
I wrinkled my nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, we’ll have to read to find out, won’t we?”
I gave a noncommittal grunt. As he turned to the first page again, I suddenly felt very self-conscious. I probably smelled like street dust and dirty laundry, my hands looked painfully coarse next to Edgar’s as they gripped the book, and I was about to look like an idiot because I knew absolutely nothing about reading.
I opened my mouth to tell him I wouldn’t do it, but he started talking about the letters again, and I gave up.
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