Chapter One
They had a full house the night it happened. Such a feat was understandable considering the passion that many elites had for the arts. Or at least the ones who mattered. Like flocks of peacocks they nestled in their seats. Through the curtains she watched them; a glittering sea of brightly coloured gowns and dark waistcoats. Chattering loudly amongst each other they paid little attention to the curious girl whom observed them from the stage. It was a sight to behold simply watching them interact with each other. Even observing the act of them climbing into their seats made her knees wobble with shame. How could they look so regal when doing such ordinary things?
“Annette!” A voice hissed gently behind her. She turned her head, alarmed to see a much older woman standing close by silently urging her to get away from the stage before the curtains were drawn. “The show is almost about to begin, you shall get in the way of the first troupe!”
“I-I-I'm sorry madame!” Hastily she scampered across the wooden floorboards vanishing backstage where it was stuffy, crowded, but safe from the audiences prying eyes. All around her there were women getting ready. Some of them dancers and others singers. Most fully dressed though a few were still trying to throw the last pieces of their costumes on. The chaos was nothing she had not already seen before. For nearly three years this had been her second home. She knew of the pushing and showing that came with working in a theatre. She was used to being snapped at or knocked over by people who were in a hurry. Her Aunt had taught her to expect it. “It comes with choosing the life of an artist.” She had exclaimed to Annette once. As if Annette had actually entered this line of work willingly. Pursing her lips together she watched the other dances frantically scamper about in the backstage area. They looked like startled birds. Only they were armed by shrill voices and delicate footsteps. Her Aunt stood off to the side, resting against an old walking stick. She smiled in the young girls direction knowingly, as if to say “I am pleased with you”.
For nearly three years she had performed on stage at the wishes of the older woman, making her money and dodging the sketchy questions in regards to her past. Which was why she had been asked against her wishes to perform a solo dance that evening during the end of the First Act. “You will do well.” The director had told her calmly as he patted her on the shoulder, smiling at her as if she were a mindless dog that simply needed some reassurance in itself before it perked it's ears up again. Her mother had always dreamed of Annette being a famous ballerina. She paid for her lessons as a child even when it seemed like there was nothing else they could afford. Her father had died long before she had learned to walk and with no other siblings she spent most of her early life devoted to helping her mother. During the day she learned to dance and at night they cleaned other peoples laundry together. Yet somehow she had ended up here; in one of the most prestigious theatres in the city. Against all the odds one might say, though Annette herself might not had cared to discuss the subject so openly. In fact any aspect of her past had to be borderline wrestled out of her if you wanted the answer.
Her reputation was not entirely a result of her talent you see. A large part of it was linked to the wild and stormy gossip about the job she had been working before she came to her Aunt begging for a place to stay. Word had gotten out ages ago and now everyone in the theatre knew her as the former maid of Lord Derrick; a prestigious Bachelor whom was just a little more popular with the public than he actually realized. He'd inherited his fathers estate very young and was known as being a person that you could only ever love or hate; never anything between. Annette had known the stories about him even when she was a little girl. They were the type of casual gossip that was exchanged by friends on the street. Her mother had joked about him a few times and although she pretended to listen Annette would often find herself thinking of something more interesting during the conversation. The elites were also an interest to those of lesser rank for some reason. They sought for nasty rumors the way that a mouse might scan an entire floor for bread crumbs. Annette had never shared this strange interest. The elites were a rather dull topic to the girl. As a child she would numbly blank them out as she scrubbed the stains from mountains of shirts and petticoats.
When her mother passed away shortly after she turned 15 she had never expected a job to fall easily into her lap. But somehow the laundry she had done while she was a child had been noticed by an older lady who always came in to fetch a stack of clean linens from Annette every morning. Out of sympathy she had offered the girl a job. One that she promised would pay better and was less excruciating as the one she already had. “You should take it.” She enticed the girl with a smile. “Think of the life it will provide you? Surely it will be twice as exciting as the one you already have.”
Naive, and unwilling to scrub the stains from even one more shirt or bed sheet, Annette had accepted. She'd expected it to be something mindless when the woman came forward with her offer. And when she received news a day after that she was expected to pack her things and wait to be transported to the place she would reside while she worked she had already decided the job would involve some sort of servitude. She expected to be a laundress to a wealthy family, or perhaps a nanny to some rotten children. What she was not prepared to become was the maid of Lord Derrick.
Upon her arrival she was handed a uniform and told about what she was expected to do from now on. To any other girl such a situation might have made their heart flutter, but Annette was more impressed by the manor than the man who lived in it. Lord Derrick had inherited the Blackthorn estate from his parents. It was the highest point in the city for years and consisted of more than a hundred lavished rooms and gardens that were always carefully pruned and fragrant with the scent of flowers. Day after day she would intentionally polish the same balcony banister that overlooked them, waiting until the peak of noon when the flowers were all fully opened and visible to her eyes.
The gardens were just about the only thing she truly loved about Blackthorn. Everything else involved scrubbing, washing, or dusting. There was never a time when one of the rooms was not dusty, and while there were many other maids and servants working in the estate they could never get the entire building clean. Sometimes they made a game of it, and Annette would often participate. They would meet in the dining room; the core of the manor, and each choose a direction. Then they would spend the rest of the day cleaning in the path they had chosen and meet up in the gardens outside when they finished. Sometimes half of them would be there before nightfall, other times it was only a few but there was never an instance where they were all together before the days end.
For the first few months she avoided ever meeting the man who owned the place, preferring to keep to herself while happily maintaining a safe distance during the times when she received her pay and had time off. It was not bad having a roof over her head every night. Though that meant sharing one room with several other girls from various backgrounds, they sometimes were fortunate enough to receive the leftovers of some of the parties that Lord Derrick was constantly throwing. Life was better when she was invisible to the man who she worked for. The day that they met was when the contentedness had burst into flames.
It was a late afternoon in October. Rain had been falling for days and the skies outside were a constant shade of grey. She was scurrying down a corridor with her arms full of clean bedsheets. Mandy, who at the time was in charge of all the other servants in Blackthorn, had insisted on sending her to change the linen of one of the guest rooms. “Take care not to drop these. It takes a long time to get them clean enough for the critical eyes of Lord Derricks guests and they get very bitter when they see something that isn't up to their expectations. ” The woman had sighed as she gently nudged Annette in the direction she was meant to go. She was always rather uncomfortable with doing any duties that required changing something. Be it a tablecloth or a pillow Annette was always convinced she would not do it right. By then she was rather fond of the people she had met in Blackthorn and had no interest in loosing her job over something so miniscule. But it was Mandy's orders and she could not refuse even if she had wanted so off to the guest room she went where the grey light streamed through a slightly opened window and a constant chill made her hands tremble. She was almost finished when she heard a voice call out from behind her.
“And who would you be?” It demanded. Straight to the point and blunt, avoiding even making a formal introduction.
Whirling around in a panic she found herself face to face with darkly clad figure. He was standing on the opposite side of the room, staring at her in a way that was blatantly judgmental. The artists who had been commissioned to paint his portraits had not exaggerated Lord Derricks appearance. The same gloomy features were present in real life the same way they had been depicted on numerous oil canvas's. The dark eyes that became two black voids without the presence of proper lighting, the mane of thick black hair that was gingerly swept away from his face; he looked no different from the oil canvass she saw of him hanging all around the manner, with the exception that he was much taller than any of the paintings and filled the room in such a way that she was frightened by him at first.
Stumbling into a deep curtsy she immediately lowered her gaze to the floor, remembering that Mandy had once told her the Elites found it rude when their servants looked them in the eye. “I am Annette.” She murmured softly, wondering if he could even hear over the sound of the rain outside. “I was asked to come here to work for you several months ago.”
She scarcely had time to finish her sentence before he stomped loudly over to the bed she had just made, peering down at it for a moment before returning his attention to her. “So you are the little mouse that has been scurrying around my manor. The others mentioned you to me on several occasions.” He paused, running a hand across the wrinkled bedspread, flinching in repulsion and the imperfect surface. “Of course the only reason that you were ever mentioned at all is because I wanted to know which careless fool is responsible for the shoddy cleaning that I have seen around my home lately.”
Annette was taken aback. She had been warned of Derricks arrogant attitude towards those who worked within his household. They told her to not expect praise from him even if the job was done well and that he was always unfriendly towards those who served him. But nobody had warned her that he would openly insult her. Clasping her hands behind her back to conceal the fact that they had now begun to violently shake she shimmed over to the opposite end of the bed, forcing herself to continue to look down at the floor. “I-I-I was not finished with that Sir.” She insisted feeling just a little too ashamed to admit that she thought she had done a perfectly good job and had been just about to leave before he walked in on her.
Even with her eyes locked on the bedspread she could tell he was looking at her. She felt his gaze stop near her head and then slowly wander downwards. He looked at whatever part of her that he please, staring for as long as he wanted as obviously and he wanted and when he was done the only response that he gave was a firm shake of his head.“No...No. I have changed my mind about the way that I described you earlier. You are anything but a little mouse.” He grimaced, ignoring what she had just told him moments before as he stepped back from the apparently imperfect bed. “A mouse is a stealth and dainty creature. And you are portly as a hog and anything but quiet. I could hear your obnoxious footsteps thundering all done the hallway. For a moment you had me convinced that a part of the building was on fire and that my staff were all stampeding for the front door.”
“P-p-portly!?” Annette was unable to mask the horror that she felt when he rephrased his description of her. Before he even had a chance to frown she had clamped one hand over her mouth having realized that one of the most important rules of being in Blackthorn was that you never talked out of turn when you were in the presence of Lord Derrick. No matter how rude he was being. “I apologize for my actions Sir.” She exclaimed as she lowered her head once again to her side. “I will remake the bed again to a much more appropriate standard.”
“Why bother? The bedspread that you brought into this room does not match the rest of the decor anyhow.” He sighed, giving her a rather unimpressed look like the entire conversation was boring him. His frustration distinctively reminded her of the disdain that her dance instructor had once shown Annette when he had truly given up all hope on her. “The floor and curtains are both shades of green but you have used linen and blankets that are hues of blue. And they have been wrinkled and soiled by your careless little paws. You shall have to rewash them.”
“Yes my Lord. As you wish...” Annette gasped quietly as the blood drained from her face. Change the sheets again!? Bringing the first set all the way from the laundry room was a living nightmare, and how on earth was she going to explain it to Mandy?! She mourned the loss of her work as she began to peel the bedspread and sheets from the bed, avoiding Derricks watchful gaze as he stood there in the room next to her. They were just as heavy as they had been when she first brought them here and she gritted her teeth under the exhausting amount of weight. Unable to properly bow she opted for a low nod of her head in Derricks direction, praying that he would not force her to stop and show the 'proper' respect that he no doubt saw as a right to a man of his rank. “Good day my Lord.” She beckoned, scurrying away quickly before he had the chance to do anything else.
“One last thing; I want you to practice walking softly from now on.” He called out as she staggered into the hallway. “I won't have any servant of mine stomping around like some poorly raised mare.”
That was the first in a series of incidents with Lord Derrick. Though Annette eventually learned to perfect her chores in ways that would prevent him from complaining the Lord still found ways to make her feel miserable whenever the two interacted. Though she did her best to avoid the man like he were a plague there were still times when she let her guard down for too long. The second time they spoke was in the gardens where she was venturing one afternoon after being relieved of her duties earlier than usual. He was strolling by with a dark haired woman and a greying man by his side when he noticed her staring intensely at one of the many rose bushes. “I would appreciate it if you did not leave your hoof prints all over my garden.” He called over to her, pointing towards the footprints that Annette's feet had made in the grass.
Then there was the incident when she was sorting books in Blackthorns immaculate library. Unable to understand the languages that some of them were written in, Annette had opted to place some of the books that she could not identify in whichever shelf had the space to fit them. When he entered she was pretending to be cleaning off the windows and though she made sure to cower a safe distance away from him so that there were a multitude of book shelves spaced between them, Lord Derrick was still very much aware of her presence in the room. He paced restlessly through the stacks, eyeing the rows of books with a critical gaze that he always had in the presence of a servant. She made absolutely no sound as she focused her attention on the coloured panes of glass. 'Just clean and stay out of his way', she thought while vigorously scrubbing at a spot of dirt that clung to part of the window frame.
At first things seemed to be going fine but then she heard him stop pacing and the fine hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle. “I see that you cannot read properly either.” He commented after several moments of silence had passed and a gasp had gotten caught in the back of her throat. “Judging by the way that you have carelessly crammed several of my valuable books onto these shelves I imagine that you barely know how to comprehend your own name in writing.”
“Erm-” Annette felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she slowly turned around to face him. “Actually I can read Sir. But only a little bit.” As always her response came out sounding feeble and she wrung her cleaning rag in her hands nervously knowing by then that no answer would be good enough to make him leave her alone. “I just have problems trying to sort the books that are written in other languages...”
“Spoken like a genuine fool I see.” Like always he answered her without a pause, slicing through her like a finely crafted blade. Annette shuddered, feeling her stomach clench up as she watched him slowly narrow his eyes at her. “I am beginning to question the story that Mandy has given me about your past. How could the daughter of a laundress be so incapable of sorting things? And I hear that your Aunt was once the finest ballerina in all the land. How is it that you are the niece of such a vibrant woman but are as graceless and drab as a three legged cow?”
“I am not a dancer Sir. Nor have I ever been one.” Annette lied surprisingly well, not even flinching while polishing off a brass candle holder beside her. It was not worth it to go into the subject. She did not feel like explaining to him that she used to dance for her mothers sake but had quit shortly after she died. Or that dancing never brought her the kind of passion that it had for her Aunt. Lifting her chin she saw him flipping through one of the books that she had apparently failed to properly organize. He only seemed vaguely interested in what she had to say but she kept talking anyhow. “I opted to never follow in her footsteps when I was a little girl. I became a laundress to help my mother instead.”
When she was done he clicked his tongue with disappointment. “What a shame that you did such a thing.” He answered, sighing dramatically while placing the book he was holding onto a nearby desk. “Learning to dance might have taught you to walk like a human being instead of like an animal.”
“Yes, I suppose.” She nodded reluctantly, tolerating the cruel way that he smirked at her. Stepping away from the window she forced herself into a deep curtsy before heading for the door. She didn't think to make up a reason for leaving but he did not seem interested in commenting on her little stunt. In fact when she darted out into the hall she caught a brief glimpse of him turning towards one of the book shelves, no doubt examining them for any other misplaced articles.
It went on like this for month until Lord Derrick went away to visit distant relatives in another city. He was gone for nearly six months. Though she gritted her teeth while doing it, Annette still practiced walking softly and performing chores to his liking. She learned to clean and organize the exact way that he preferred even in his absence but it was all done without the fear of bumping into the Lord or hear his critical voice calling out to her she found herself starting to enjoy her duties once again. In the meantime her body slowly began to change for the first time in years. She grew several inches taller over the course of the winter. Her waist slimmed just a tad and her breasts started to develop. She denied the changes until Mandy eventually commented on it while they were having a snack together. “Pretty soon you'll be taller than I am!” She joked playfully as they huddled together in a quiet spot near the kitchen.
Annette had nothing to say in her defense. She could not stop it. The first hints of womanhood had made their debut and she was both uncomfortable and embarrassed by the sudden change. It was terribly awkward getting used to idea of having breasts, especially when her uniform started to feel so tight that she could no longer breathe. “You should buy yourself something new.” Mandy insisted when she saw her one day struggling for air and could not help but giggle at her discontent. “They're only going to keep on getting bigger and you need something that has the room to let them grow.” Annette was deeply flustered by the conversation but agreed with Mandy none the less. A new outfit was very much overdue.
Every week she squirreled away the money that she earned, saving every penny up until she had enough to be able to purchase herself a dress of modest quality, one that was much nicer looking that her old one and could withstand the changes that her body was suddenly undergoing. Her old dress was snipped up afterwards and with help of Mandy's sewing skills she fashioned the old fabric into an apron for her to wear when she was on cleaning duty and one or two shawls to wear outside on days that were particularly chilly. “You look lovely.” Was the first comment that she received once she had tried her new garments on. Most of the other maids at Blackthorn were delighted to seem the new garments. They delighted in the crafty way that she had managed to dispose of her old dress and even asked to know whether she could convince Mandy to sew them a shawl as well. After all, they were just as handy as they were stunning. Looking at herself in the mirror became a little less harder. There were even a few occasions when she smiled at her reflection.
Under Mandy's careful instruction she was also trained how to serve food, and although she protested for days on end she was eventually relocated to the kitchen where she was expected to cook and serve any of the guests that came to Blackthorn. It was an uncomfortable ordeal of balancing several trays of food at once and dealing with the scorn of very picky elites. If it had not been for the fact that serving maids worked in pairs frequently and were seldom ever expected to serve someone on their own she might have lost her mind.
Lord Derrick returned from his travels during the summer weary and unwilling to accept guests. Blackthorn was rather peaceful in the first few weeks of his return and although Annette served him once or twice during that time she managed to avoid any critical comments by serving him at times when he already seemed preoccupied with something else. For a long time it seemed like his gaze was permanently fixated on a letter or an opened book. Though he waved his hand dismissively when she placed his meals down beside him he scarcely bothered to look up and acknowledge her. Annette considered herself fortunate during this time as it allowed her some amount of relaxation.
It was during the third week while she was bringing him lunch that he suddenly looked up at her and studied her features and the blissful indifference was suddenly shattered. She remained frozen stiff with both heels digging firmly into the floor, wondering if perhaps he had forgotten all about the little servant girl that he liked to mock. In order to fool him Annette had been doing several different things to alter her appearance. She wore her long blonde hair in a tight bun now when it had once tumbled freely down her shoulders. She walked as lightly as she possibly could and tried to make her voice sound much softer than it had been before. Everything was done in an effort to dodge his criticism, which she viewed more as a unnecessary menace than a part of her job.
“Tell me Annette. How old are you now?” He asked suddenly and all at once she felt a balloon of disappointment burst inside of her. She set the tray down in front of him, bowing respectfully and stepping away in some attempt to seem obedient, perhaps even poised.
“I turned 16 several months ago.” She replied to him, watching as he stared down at the food she had placed before him without touching it. “Are you not hungry right now Sir?”
“You are still a child then....” He retorted with a bored sounding sigh, folding his arms over his chest as he looked up at her. He was studying her. Annette could tell by the way that his dark eyes moved slowly from her feet to her head. They stopped when they met her gaze, lingering for a moment or two as if challenging her to say something. When she didn't his lower lip curled with dissatisfaction. “Yet you wear your hair as if you were someone much older.”
“Oh...” She nodded in agreement as she lifted one hand to touch her newly acquired style. “It was growing too long for me to manage, Sir.” Annette whispered in response, frozen stiff to her spot knowing that if she tried to leave before he had the last word he would become furious with her. “When I still wore it down I was concerned that it would get in the way while I was performing my duties and so I have begun to wear it this way instead.”
“Or perhaps you thought I was a simply an idiot who would not be able to identify you any longer if you changed some details about your appearance.” He snapped back at her, leaning back in his chair until the floorboards beneath him groaned with protest.“I see you have improved in your ability to walk without making so much noise but in turn you have now become clumsy in incapable of balancing simple objects.” He pointed to the tray where a little bit of tea had dribbled down the rim of the cup and onto the bone white plate, pooling around it softly like a pond. “Perhaps your next project should be to improve your balance.”
“Yes my Lord. I will try my best.” Annette chirp as she slowly backed towards the door. “If there is nothing else you would like to ask me I will leave you to your meal-”
“-Or perhaps you can replace this disgusting mess that you had the nerve to bring to me!” Derrick growled, shoving the plate that had the cup of tea resting on it into her hands. Annette yelped as she lost her grip and the warm liquid spilled over the front of her dress, scalding her and staining her white apron a light brown. Tears prickled the corners of her eyes as she stooped to pick up the empty teacup and plate, thankful that they had not shattered when they hit the floor. Without another word she fled from the room and did not stop running until she was certain there was a safe distance between herself and the man that had caused her such pain. Then, slumping up against a decorated wall she bitterly wept for the first time in her life since her mothers death.
Mandy helped tend to her burn afterwards. Another maid offered to lend her a dress to wear until her old one had been properly washed but all Annette could do as she sat there on a stool in the kitchen was weep. She wept and she wept until her eyes were red and sore and even the act of blinking caused her pain. Then at last she stopped. “You cannot let him get under your skin.” Mandy explained to her with a gentle shake of her head. “Lord Derrick is just another snobbish devil. Like all of the other elites. If you let them know that they're gotten to you it just makes them more smug.” Annette wiped her eyes and nodded quietly. She understood what the other woman meant. But it didn't make her feel any better for having some scalding tossed at her. Another woman brought Lord Derrick a fresh cup of tea. Mandy finished tending to her and promptly told her to pull herself together after her burn had been treating insisting that working would help her forget the incident. “Just try to stay away from him for the rest of the day.” Annette returned to her duties without another word but the incident would haunt for several days afterwards until she began to feel better.
She was not asked to bring anything to Lord Derrick for a month or two afterwards. Part of it was Mandy's pity getting in the way of her orders and the other part was merely the dread that everyone else felt towards the idea of having something sent back that Annette might have spilled or knocked over. Remaking something was not a joy for the kitchen staff. Especially when it was a mistake made by the maid carrying the food and not by one of them.
She was allowed to remain in the kitchen, preparing food rather than serving it. Whenever there were guests she was permitted to go back to serving. The elites who Annette dealt with were finicky but much less blunt than Blackthorns Lord. Things did not get sent back as often and sometimes the ladies whom visited would engage her in friendly conversation. The only time that she interacted with him during that time was during her days off. She passed in in the hall on her way to the market or outside as she was strolling across the grounds. Summer had faded by then and the first hints of frost were beginning to appear. To help improve her mood she saved her earnings once again and went into town to purchase herself a set of lovely ivory combs. She pinned them into her hair, smiling at her reflection whenever she passed by a mirror.
Derrick left Blackthorn a second time to attend to the Christmas festivities at the house of a Duke whom he was said to be very close friends with. Annette quietly rejoiced in his absence. He was gone for the entire month of December and the entire household seemed to rejoice in his absence. Without their lord around they were free to speak their minds and speak they certainly did. Every waking moment was spent venting all the anger and frustrations that they felt. Surprisingly enough most of the staff were happy to share in her hatred of the Lord.
“Oh, he is such a miserable creature.” One maid said as she and Annette were sorting the dishes on a slow afternoon. “Ever since he took over the manor he's been making everyone here feel terrible. That tongue of his is sharper than a blade and he likes using it remind us that we are inferior. It's a real shame that he's such a devil. His father was always so polite to us. He was a kind man when Lord Derrick was a by and used to make Blackthorn a very enjoyable place to work. How unfortunate that his only son turned out to be an arrogant brat! I have never met anyone so openly critical of others before in my life.”
“Except other members of the elite perhaps.” Annette corrected her with an exasperated sigh. “If you compare him to anyone else of his rank he isn't all that different. They all have the same attitude towards us. They think because we are beneath them that we are subject to obey their every co,,and. Lord Derrick is just more aggressive about his tactics where as the other are subtly cruel.”
“Well, at least he certainly has the look of an elite. Right down to the porcelain skin.” The girl said with a fragile sounding laugh. “I doubt that any of the girls working here would put up with this nonsense if he was not so handsome. What a remarkable face he has.” She grinned cheekily, giving the other maid a somewhat knowing look.
“I suppose he is...” Annette replied softly as her eyes fixated on the dishes they were still sorting through. “I don't really notice much about his appearance to be honest with you. Usually I'm too scared of him to look at anything other than his feet...”
Her Aunt sent her a gift for Christmas along with a letter It arrived in the morning time when the snow was falling and the hallways were dead quiet. Inside the delicately wrapped box Annette discovered a lovely jade brooch nestled in a handkerchief. It was similar to the one her Aunt had worn when she was still a ballerina; a symbol of her beauty and youth. Though it did not match with the rest of her attire she wore wherever she went, sending the woman a note of thanks as well as one of the ivory combs she still owned. Though she missed it being tucked into her hair next to the other woman she felt inclined to give the woman something in return for her lovely gesture. Much to her dismay nobody in Blackthorn seemed to notice it's absence.
Lord Derrick returned after the New year but he did not speak to her when she was ordered to return to her former duty of bringing him meals. He still oozed with same critical tongue as he had before, pointing out her mistakes harshly and without remorse. Annette forced herself to become accustomed to them, slowly training herself to respond to his snarky comments with the same neutral answers just as a “good” servant would have. In the meantime she practiced how to balance trays while walking down even the busiest corridor and was soon finding herself spilling less food than she normally would of.
Nothing seemed to change for a year. Blackthorn remained busy, she slowly adapted so that she seldom ever made mistakes that Derrick could complain about, and the four seasons came and went as they always did. She wrote more letters to her Aunt and spent her days learning new things from the other servants. One of the stable boys showed her how to collect only the ripest apples during the summer, the groundskeeper showed her the places where she could find wildflowers near Blackthorn that she was free to pick, and Mandy continued to teach her ways to improve herself as a servant. She taught herself to sing some of the nursery rhymes her mother had sung to her when he was a child and used them to occupy her thoughts when she was busy at work.
Talking to others about Lord Derrick helped her vent out some of her anger towards the man as it appeared that many of his attendants also carried strong hostilities towards him. Even still there were a few times when she also found herself asking strange questions about him. The worst being one that came to her while she and another maid who was several years older than her were setting the table in the dining room together. In the midst of their chatter it popped into her brain and before she knew it she was saying it out loud.
“Why is Lord Derrick not married?”
“Married?” The other girl stopped what she was doing and looked over at Annette with an odd expression on her face. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
“Well, he is an only son is he not? And Blackthorn will need an heir to keep it's legacy from dying out. Preferably one from his bloodline and not his sisters...” She said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “I was just wondering why he has not taken a wife yet, being nearly thirty such as he is. I've heard of him courting some of the wealthier women living in the town but he never seems to stay with one for long. I would think that he would-”
“That I would what?”
It was him. She could tell. Lord Derrick's voice was undeniably unique from any of the other man that she had encountered during her lifetime. Nothing else sounded quite as arrogant for one thing. Instinctively the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as Annette turned around to face him, realizing that she had made a terrible mistake and like all of her previous errors around him she was not able to wake up. This was no nightmare troubling her in the middle night, it was real life. “I am sorry my lord!” She winced loudly, closing her eyes when she caught a glimpse of him near the opposite end of the table, looming quietly like a ghost out of a child's bedtime story. It was one of the rare instances where he wasn't dressed in black. She knew this because even though she only looked over at him briefly she could see that his attire was a deep shade of burgundy. “I didn't realize that you were here.”
“No, of course you weren't aware. Otherwise you might have never said anything.” Lord Derrick replied, frowning in her general direction as he paced slowly across the room. The boots he was wearing that day clicked loudly across the wooden floor. Every thumping sound that they made caused her stomach to tighten up into a knot. The other maid remained obediently silent, frozen in mid curtsy as she watched her Lord slowly make his way over to them. “Leave us.” He demanded when he had reached the other side of the room where they had both been standing. When she hesitated, glancing over at Annette with a concerned expression he scowled at the girl in such a way that caused her to shudder violently when she turned away and fled from the room. The door slammed loudly behind her, leaving an echo that traveled throughout the empty room and towards it's looming ceilings. Annette's heart was beating rapidly but she did not budge from where she was. Fear had caused her legs to glue themselves firmly to where they were, denying her the ability to turn and flee from this man the same way that her companion had. “You asked about my marital status?” He said to her when the room had gone silent again. She saw him lift one hand to rest it against his hip but could not bring herself to lift her gaze any higher.
“I-I-I didn't mean any harm. I swear.” She stammered. “I was only curious.”
“Is it truly curiosity or was is the simple fact that you're too mindless to come up with anything else to speak about other than the life of your employer?” He replied, addressing her in a way that made her feel like he had deliberately practiced everything he was going to say months ago. They were two actors on a stage together but Annette had not bothered to rehearse her lines. She keep her lips completely sealed together, reluctantly choosing to stay silent when he peered down at her. “To answer your question, which you seemed to be dying to know; I have not wed yet because I have not found anyone that I want. Every woman I have met so far is either simple minded or far beneath my status. Finding a wife is hard for a man with refined standards such as myself and I will not bring myself to settle for something less than what I deserve.”
“I see...” Annette answered with a gentle nod of her head. “I am sorry that I brought it up. I ask your forgiveness I did not mean to behave so rudely my Lord. I will try to control my mindless questions from now on.” Insulting herself was not an easy task, but she knew from the moment the words appeared in her mind that it would appease Lord Derrick to hear her admit to her own 'faults' without being informed about them. “Shall I return to my duties Sir?' She asked, bracing herself for an opportunity to flee from the room and as far away from this man as she could.
He seemed aware of her discomfort, smirking as he turned his head to look out the large windows that made up one side of the room. “Tell me Annette, did you know that everyone under this household is obligated to obey me?” He asked her, never once turning his gaze away from the window. “You have been here for some time and yet you seem to be naively unaware of the rules of social class. Other than the elites who come here to visit me, everyone inside Blackthorn manor is constantly under my control. As Lord of this household my word is law regardless of what I might say.” He smiled, perching the other hand against his hip as he continued to look away from her. “If I ever sought a companion to have in my bed none of the women who work here would be able deny me. I can never be refused so long as I am a Lord and they are my servants. Even if they are married and loyal to their husband all I would need to do is tell them that I want them and they would not be able to refuse....”
“I...do not understand why you are telling me this Sir.” Annette squeaked, shyly inching away from him as the tension in the air grew stronger. She had heard rumours about the intimate life of her employer. The other servants told her that he preyed on young middle classed or elite women. When his father was still alive and Lord Derrick was a youth there were said to be constantly seeking him out at Blackthorn. A elite male taking a woman of high upbringing for a lover was unquestioned, but she had never heard anything about servants.
His stance reeked of arrogance and so did his voice when he replied to her; “I always wondered if something as ill-educated as you are would be able to comprehend the rights and privileges of status. The higher you are the more valued your words and livelihood will be. A servant could not say 'no' to me in any circumstance.” He was calm throughout his ramblings although she noticed that he started to smile when he insulted her. Turning his head away from the window he looked over at her, abruptly meeting her gaze before she realized that she was meant to be looking downwards at all times in his presence. “Why do you wear that garish little bauble wherever you go? It scarcely matches anything else you own.”
She lifted one pale hand, clasping for the brooch that she still wore on the front of her dress. It was cool to the touch but she still found herself comforted when she touched it. “My Aunt gave it to me last Christmas.” She explained with the weakest of smiles. “I wear it all the time because it reminds me of her...and I like the way it looks.”
“Then it is something sentimental that you are clinging to.” He replied with a shake of his head. “If I recall your Aunt wore a similar brooch when she was still a famous dancer. She used it as a focal point; a proof of her worth and beauty. But she was correct in her boasting while yours stands out like a sore thumb against the rags you wear.” His voice dropped suddenly becoming cold while he shifted his body to face her. “Even if you improve yourself for years the trinket will never be suited for you. It is the sort of piece that adorns the wealthy, the lovely, and the refined; these are things that a lowly maid such as yourself does not have the potential to become. You waste your time, and in turn you make yourself appear just as pathetic as you were when you first came here.”
His words stung her like the thorns of a rose bush. They made her heartbeat quicken and her eyes widen like two saucers. It was not as harsh as the things he had said to her in the past. But standing there, clinging to the little ornament as it sat on the front of her dress, she felt utterly crushed. “I am not pathetic.” She whispered as her eyes began to tingle.
Lord Derrick gave a loud scoff as he turned away from her. The mocking undertones of that sound made her tremble violently. “No matter what you achieve in life Annette you will always be pathetic. It is in your nature as a mindless urchin. Girls like you amass in the world by the thousands, all of you mindless and worth far less than what it would cost to burry you after you have died. You are fooling yourself if you believe that thing will ever suit someone as insignificant as you.”
“I am not worthless!” Angry tears streamed down her face as she shouted those words. When he turned around to look at her she was glaring at him him, fuelled by the hurt and anger that had slowly been building up inside of her. At that moment she want nothing more than to hurt him. She wanted to fling a chair at him or reach for one of the knives on the table to carve apart his youthful face. But no amount of physical pain would have been enough so instead she just stood there, motionless, gazing directly into his eyes without any regard. To hell with the rules. She was finished anyhow. Finished with everything in Blackthorn, she thought, as she took a step back and narrowed her eyes at him. “I'll never be worthless.” Were the last words she spoke before she turned and fled from the room. Racing down the hallway she guided herself to the room she had lived and slept in alongside the other female servants for years. Without a plain brown sack she packed up her belongings. The whole time she cried but never once considered stopping She could not stay there anymore. Not while that wretched man ruled over this place like a tyrant and made her life a misery.
It was cold outside when she burst out the front doors and went scampering across the grounds. A chill had clung to the air that would not cease and it whipped her shawl about violently as she struggled across the mud and grass. He watched her from a window; gazing out at the frost bitten grounds while she fled. Annette could see the glimpse of a red clad figure outlined in one of the upper rooms when she turned and looked back. When she reached the very edge of the property the wind nearly knocked her over. It carried her shawl away like a bird caught in the updraft and as she watched it sail away behind her Annette could not bring herself to chase after it. She would not set foot on Blackthorn manor ever again, she vowed. Not for any reason. And as she bid farewell to the pitiful garment Annette turned and fled in the direction of the city.
