How long her heart had ached for a hand to hold, for someone to call her own. She sat on her windowsill staring out into the white obis. The snow had begun to fall harder. She would be snowed in till springs sunshine would thaw her heart. "Oh sweat love, come for me. Beckon my heart to leave this cold and dreary bitterness." But to her dismay she sat alone watching the bitter snowfall.
"If you sit there forever Madame, You'll never be ready for dinner. Your mother is awaiting your presence," Said Crone.
Crone had been her nanny since she was able to speak, or even walk. She had been her favorite person to talk too; to express her joys. Her mother never seemed to be around when the time was right. She was always off, trying to find her the perfect husband. Or when she was young, mother had always been off flirting with the unmarried. She always was kind enough though to once in awhile notice that her poor marguerite had a tummy ache or sometimes she would kiss her goodnight and send her off to bed; where nanny Crone would read her an adventurous story and then send her into wild dreams of princesses and princes. But she couldn't blame her mother for all of those poor dismissed hours of need. Money and power always came with sacrifices. But with all the evenings nanny Crone had entertained her, she had become something more.
"Did you hear me Marguerite?" asked Crone "I am sorry Auntie Crone," She said "I was just rivering my thoughts of this horrid snow." "I am sorry for disturbing you, but dinner is waiting. Your mother shall come looking for you if you do not hurry." "Oh Auntie Crone, why must it snow, will he ever come?" "If you keep wallowing by that windowsill, he will never." Marguerite giggled. "I guess you are right." "Now go get dressed, before your mother decides to throw a bomb at me." Marguerite giggled, and then proceeded to get dress.
"Who do you think is coming?" asked Marguerite "I don't know, I suppose all of the gentlemen far and wide," Said Crone "Who knows, your mother says she knows everyone." Crone laughed and went about setting out Marguerites dress out for her.
"You are so funny Auntie Crone." "Come here child, put on your dress. Dinner is waiting, and your mother is steaming." Marguerite giggled, and put her dress over her pettie coats and under garments.
Marguerite strolled into the large luxurious dining room. "Marguerite," Her mother said, "I do wish you could be discrete and show your manors." "What do you mean? We have no guests," Said Marguerite "You could show your mother some respect." "I am sorry, I will try harder."
Marguerite sat down in her chair and sipped on her orange juice. "So how many guest will be coming?" asked Marguerite "All of our gentleman in the kingdom and the prince of sherington will be arriving this evening for the ball." "Wonderful," Marguerite said under her breath. "You don't have be rude Marguerite, I want you to enjoy yourself. We will find you suitable husband." "Yes mother." Jasper set her breakfast on the table in front of her. "Thank you Jasper." "Your welcome Marguerite," Said Jasper
"Rest a good while Marguerite, for it will not be long till this evening. Jasper will send your lunch to your room," Said her mother
Her mother had a feast planned for this evening; that included Marguerite dancing with every gentleman that arrived that evening. How she dreaded it, Her mother had always fancied showing Marguerite off to the young gentlemen; eager to throw into the crowd of hungry men.
When Marguerite was finished her breakfast she drank a glass of water.
"Shall you take your morning walk Miss Marguerite?" asked Crone "Yes, I will need my warmest." "I have it ready." "Marguerite," Said her mother, "Please be on time. You are the hostess also." "I promise mother," Said Marguerite
Marguerite left the room to put on her over throw and take her morning walk.
Marguerites mother Mrs. Abbott sat at the dining table as Jasper cleared the table. "What shall we do with the poor little soul Jasper?" "I don't know ma'am, perhaps love her as she is." Jasper left the room and went to the kitchen.
Marguerite walked in the white snow along the garden walls. She had longed for a handsome friend to sing to her of her beauty and his fascination and truth.
"I see you every day, and though I wish I could speak, my love, out load, I cannot say therefor my misery is great."
She paused to watch as a blue bird sang a song in the tree beside her.
"You moved first, though I yearned I could not find the courage to speak So now I'm in the place I've earned Where a chance of true love is bleak."
Marguerite moved on as she walked and gazed at all of the beauty that surrounded her.
"For what is life without love? Where is the meaning of existence? For happiness floats on the wings of a dove And there, I hope I'll not find resistance."
Marguerite paused to pet the young dear beside her.
"So I pray night and day that I'll soon be able to say 'I love you' and you'll say 'I love you too.' But until that day comes I'll not twiddle my thumbs I'll do everything I can To love you."