Four - Plenty Of Surprises

RPOV

After pouring out my heart and soul with sorrowful tears, I got off my bed—which was now a little damp—and took my journal from its place under my large mattress and got the gold key from the bookcase. The velvet material felt soft as I opened it and went back to my earliest entries, specifically the one when I had found out that Mother died.

My hand mindlessly stroked the dry ink on the off-white page. I could feel the tears gathering again; however, I blinked them away and forced myself to read.

December 28th, 1682

Father is depressingly solemn this evening. He won't leave his private study, and I brought him dinner, hoping that he would let me in, yet he merely cracked the door open and took the plate of food wordlessly before shutting me out.

The reason for his behavior is because Mother died today. She left in a carriage to run errands; however, she got lost and ended up falling into a deep ravine, where she was killed from the impactful injuries, along with the horses and coachmen. That was this morning, and when it became late afternoon, Father decided to go out and look for her.

The weather was hazardous—it was icy, wintry, and blizzardy everywhere. No one could last a minute outside, so people just stayed at home. Mother left before it got horrible, but she didn't come back quickly enough. And sadly, she paid for it.

I am locked in my bedchamber, crying viciously as I write these words. I never thought I would lose my mother this soon, and I wish it wasn't from this cause. I don't deserve to be a motherless child at fourteen years of age. She didn't deserve to be taken away from her family.

The funeral is next week, and Mother's body is getting retrieved when the weather calms down. Father hasn't told anyone about what happened, and I don't blame him. I wouldn't have told either.

As I finish writing this entry, I decide to make a vow: I will never cease loving her. If Father marries another woman, I will never forget Mother. I will never lose sight of who she was and who she will always be. No one will replace her spot in my heart.

Until next time,

Rosemarie Mazur

Taking a deep breath, I locked my journal and hid it back under the mattress. The key went to rest in its grave of paper and ink that sat on the bookcase. My heart ached from the reading and reminiscing—I could almost picture Mother in the carriage as it began falling into the ravine: confused and terrified while screaming for dear life. Not even having the time to say goodbye to the world as each shock broke her body and sent tremendous amounts of pain. And finally, laying twisted and battered under the carriage like some mangled animal.

I nearly vomited as these mental visuals haunted me. After ridding them, I walked over to the large, full-length mirror and reluctantly observed my appearance.

Staring back at me was a broken stranger. Her dark chestnut eyes seemed swollen and tired; her gorgeous hair looked dull and flat; her skin wasn't a vibrant, gold hue; her body seemed small and fragile in her simple, blood-red dress. Tear stains littered her cheeks in a chalky-white.

Unable to continue peering at my reflection, I brightened up my face and hair. After renewing myself, I exited my bedchamber and headed back to the library. The clicking of my heels echoed on the vintage walls as the light of the hallway guided me to my unattended schoolwork.

When I turned a sharp corner, Vasilisa bumped into me, making an irritated sound. She fixed her soft, pink gown furiously. Her pale face contorted in anger. "Will you watch where you're going? You're not the only one walking through these hallways," she spat very rudely.

Anger began pulsing through me. "You know, it's also important that you watch where you're going. You're not the center of everyone's attention."

Surprisingly, Vasilisa ignored my harsh tone, narrowing her eyes in curiosity as she noticed my face. "Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?" she wondered.

Instantly, I shook my head and began laughing the matter away. "They're probably just irritated from the weather. If you'll excuse me, I must resume doing schoolwork. I've a lot to do," I replied, moving forward to go past her. I expected her to leave it at that; however, Vasilisa crossed her arms over her chest, those jade-green eyes serious.

She said suspiciously, "Mia left really early. She didn't say anything to anyone and seemed very guilty and sad. Did something happen?"

I was about to diverge the subject when Rhea came toward us, her ivory dress shimmering under the light of the crystal chandeliers. She smiled at Vasilisa, giving her a loving kiss on the cheek. I wanted to roll my eyes.

Rhea then faced me, her face falling displeased and disgusted. "A lot of chores need to be done around the manor. The drapes need washing, drying, and ironing; the fireplace needs dusting; the floors need mopping and sweeping. Also—"

"Why are you having her do the maids' work?" Vasilisa questioned.

Rhea answered, "I sent them to their rooms. They're taking the rest of the week off." My eyes widened as my stepmother and stepsister grinned at me sinisterly. How dare those inconsiderate arses order me to complete tasks on top of my own? My fists clenched in fury as I coldly glared at them. "You cannot disobey your elders, Rosemarie. Plus, the maids work incredibly hard; it wouldn't kill you to help."

"Why can't Vasilisa or Jillian do it?" I fired back, seething with impressively suppressed rage.

Rhea coolly responded, caressing her black gloves. "Because we just moved in yesterday, and Ibrahim wouldn't approve of them attending to loads of chores just yet. He would want them to settle in and adjust to the new living arrangement." I had to admit that it sounded logical, yet this was deeply unfair. Why did I have to be the one receiving this treatment?

"Very well. Is there anything else I need to clean?" I complied as maturely and kindly as I could.

"Our everyday clothes and bedclothes need washing and drying. The dishes need washing and drying. The bedchambers need to be organized. Basically, clean and organize everything in the manor," Rhea summarized finally, giving me no room for argument. Vasilisa chuckled beside her mother as she took pleasure in my punishment.

Mason was indeed right. She was an awful bitch and a demon from Hell, like Rhea.

With a single nod, I turned on my heel and went straight to work.

Fairston Academy's church bells chimed to signify the beginning of lunch, and I painfully sat down at my usual table. Mason, Edison, and Christian watched me as I winced and hissed and groaned with practically every movement I made. The weather was warm, but it couldn't uplift my dim mood. I just wanted to go home and lay down; I had slept horribly last night.

"Are you all right, Rosemarie?" Edison concernedly wondered, getting out a turkey sandwich, fruit, and red wine instead of his normal cranberry juice.

I tried to nonchalantly nod, yet it didn't convince them. After they stared knowingly at me for several moments, I confessed, "No. I'm not all right. My back and limbs ache. I can barely keep my eyes open. And, my hands and feet feel dead." I received multiple astonished, sympathetic looks before Christian decided to delve into the specifics.

"What happened?" he interrogated, his ice-blue eyes attentive.

An exhausted sigh escaped my mouth as I smoothed my hair. "My stepmother is making me clean the whole manor this week. I started last night," I explained, hating having to speak about it. Mason and Edison shook their heads at the horribleness while Christian darkly frowned.

"Why do you let them treat you that way?" he demanded, becoming edgy. "You don't deserve it." It was strange hearing him tell me this, since Christian had been pushed around and judged nearly his entire life. I supposed talking to him yesterday had made him disregard what others thought about him and encouraged him to begin defending himself.

All I could do was shrug and stare at my gloved hands. "I don't know. I never really thought about the reason why I allow my stepfamily to treat me as if I'm second-class," I answered truthfully, not having anything else to say. There was never a time I really sat down alone and pondered the issue. Maybe I should start.

Mason agreed with Christian, his eyes hardened. "Rosemarie, it's quite obvious that they're manipulating you just to feel better about themselves." We all turned to gaze at Mason. He continued, "I think they treat you so terribly because they're jealous."

Jealous? Why on earth would my stepfamily be jealous of me? I was motherless, I didn't act as if I came from a noble household, and I dressed as simply as possible. Not to mention, I recently became friends with Christian, an outsider of society who apparently didn't belong because of his parents' treasonous crimes. Vasilisa and Jillian couldn't possibly be jealous of all that.

"That sounds just about right," Edison agreed. Christian nodded. I didn't respond for a long time until I noticed that I hadn't spoken to Mia since last night. I also hadn't seen her at all today; she was probably avoiding me. Silently, I left my friends to abruptly find Mia, leaving them staring after me in confusion.

It was nicely cool inside the academy. The stained-glass windows and mosaics divided light beams into patterns that sparkled on the shiny floors. I walked all through the hallways for what seemed like forever until I found Mia sitting on a bench with her head down. Her curly, light blond hair hid her face from view while her vibrant, yellow gown looked almost too big for her petite body.

I sat down beside her. "Mia, are you all right?"

At hearing my voice, Mia stiffened and made an attempt to leave; however, I grabbed her forearm and dragged her back down. She faced me so quickly I thought her head would've popped off. "Rosemarie, I'm so sorry. I should've never brought up your mother yesterday. It was personal, and I should've respected that you don't like discussing it," Mia stammered, sounding immensely apologetic.

I looked around, making sure that no one had heard us. After that, I placed a hand on her shoulder. "Mia, it's fine. I forgive you. There's no need to feel so horrible towards yourself," I replied in a soft tone to calm her down.

"You're certain?"

"I'm certain."

Mia's light blue eyes brightened as she released a heavy breath. "Good lord! I thought you were going to hurt me back or make me suffer in some tortuous way. I was so scared to come to school today. I tried to stay home, but my parents wouldn't let me," she admitted.

My eyebrows arched in disbelieving curiosity. "Seriously?" It was true that I had been in much pain and sorrow yesterday, and that I wished Mia hadn't broached the subject. However, I hadn't wanted revenge. She had unintentionally caused me to have those feelings, and I wasn't going to obliterate her for it.

She nodded vigorously. "Oh yes! I indeed expected that to happen."

I gave a laugh as I shook my head. "Oh, Mia. I wouldn't go that far," I said.

A blond brow rose. "Are you sure about that?"

I decided to provide no answer. Mia gazed at me knowingly, silently gloating that she was right. After making conversation for a while, we abandoned the bench and headed back to our lunch table. Mason caught sight of our bright gowns and began pointing. "There they are." We sat down and he exasperatedly demanded, "Where've you been?"

Edison folded his arms over his chest. "I believe we deserve an explanation, Rosemarie." He sent Mia a charming smile, and she giggled quietly, blushing profusely. I arched an eyebrow in question; however, Edison was now staring at me, so I left that issue alone.

"I had to talk to Mia," I simply explained.

Christian's ice-blue eyes penetrated my soul. "Care to elaborate?" he pressed.

A shrug shook my shoulders. "Something happened last night, but it's all cleared up now." Realizing that they weren't going to get anymore answers from me, they turned to Mia with demanding gazes. I was sure she was going to burst under the pressure, so I suggested, "Why don't we hurry and eat lunch before the bell chimes?"

The boys reluctantly agreed, claiming that they'd find out sooner or later. After getting them to finally forget the topic, we ravenously ate our food. Not five minutes later, the church bell chimed.

When Vasilisa, Jillian, and I arrived at Mazur Manor, we all went our separate ways. My stepsisters ran upstairs while I began the evening chores. Before we left for school, I had to hastily—and thoroughly—do the morning chores, which had been washing and drying everything. I had barely finished on time, but they were completed nonetheless.

The first chore I was going to do was sweep and mappe. It didn't take me long to sweep away all of the dust that contaminated the manor. A bucket of soap and water was soon ready, and I retrieved the mappe from the supply closet. I tied my hair into a neat bun and put a clean apron around my waist to prevent my dress from getting dirty. Hitching up my fine sleeves, I gripped the wooden handle and started working.

It felt empty as I was wetting the floors. There were more chambers than people, so it sometimes seemed like no one really lived here, especially since Father usually worked in his study; Rhea lounged in their bedchamber; Vasilisa and Jillian bonded upstairs; and I isolated myself in the library with schoolwork. Likewise, since Mother had died, it was more quiet than usual.

Sometime while I cleaned, a knock sounded on the front door. I paused as Father came out of his study, his suit jacket flying around him, and answered it. A small man spoke a few words before handing him a white envelope. Father closed the door then walked over to me, intrigue crossing his features. "I wonder what's in here," he said.

His calloused fingers started opening the envelope.

Like wolves having scented their prey, my stepfamily rushed down the iron staircase and huddled around Father, pushing me out the way. In the process, I slipped on the wet floor and nearly fell. They paid no attention to me as I glared at them.

"What does it say? What does it say?" demanded Rhea, who was so close to snatching the envelope from Father.

Vasilisa and Jillian mimicked her, their jade-green eyes glazed over in excitement and impatience as they bounced up and down.

Finally, Father opened the message and began reading. His dark chestnut eyes scanned the paper as we all held our breaths. The silence was nearly palpable. After a few moments, he folded the paper back up and placed it gently into the envelope, closing it afterwards.

"Well?" Rhea pressed, her eyes insistent.

Father faced her, surprise dominating his tanned face and deep voice. "Prince Adrian Ivashkov has come back to England, and he's searching for a bride."

Aw, poor Janine died so tragically.

Vocabulary: "mappe" is an old English term for "mop."

Looks like both Adrian and Dimitri need to marry...;)

Until next time...