A/N: continued authors note at end of prologue, opinions needed. Thanks!

Prologue

"T'was a cold and foggy mornin'. The child had been out catching kittens; Figured it was best to leave her there. None of the servants, including meself, were brave enough to tell her that her parents had arrived. Course it weren't the fact that they had returned that made us shiver in our knickers. The count and countess Tourvelle were kind and wonderful people. They were understanding and lovin' souls, even to us lowly servants. What scared us was the tense in which we now referred to them. They were good people. Alive they were no longer. I remember it well"

"I had only just finished the traditional Sunday pie, of which we would partake, celebrating their return at lunch that afternoon. Abbie was running around the kitchen chasing the kittens. It had been so long since I had seen her so simply blissful. She was nearly a lady now, but it was still pleasing to see her crawling on her hands and knees like she was a child again. "

"Abbie, please take those furry lumps of allergy outside, they're drivin' me senses wild!" She giggled and scooped up three of the clinging balls and skipped outside, humming a sweet little tune. I smiled and wiped my hands on my thinning apron. Thinking of the darling always brought a smile to my face. But I soon resumed my chores, sighing I wiped a few strands of hair from my eyes and got back to work. I wasn't too far along when I heard a noise from the front. I set down my masterpiece pie on the dinning room table and moved to the window. Opening the shutters my gaze met a foggy grey horizon and a bone chilling wind. Quickly shutting the flapping shutters I ran to get my cloak, muttering the whole way. Much to my benefit, nobody heard my cursing. My mind bustled as I flung the cloak over my chilled shoulders. There was so much that had happened as the masters were away. I had so much to inform them of. As I reviewed the matters of the week it hadn't even registered how the carriage had been sitting without movement for the last five minutes, and nobody moved to help about the arrival. Not to mention the driver was nowhere in sight. When I realized nobody was intending on assisting them I moved forward to do so. Now apprehensive my palms began to sweat and the crunching of the gravel under my feet echoed in the pit of my stomach. Hesitating to open the carriage door my already clammy hand met an ice cold handle.

Heart pounding in my chest, my worst fears were confirmed. Sitting on either side of the carriage the count and countess sat lifeless, fear in their now stone faces. Their Necks had been severed and crimson blood coated apparel and interior of the carriage. The only other color was the ghostly pale faces; the miss's fading blue eyes, now staring into the abyss and the matching tresses of the pair. The shining honey curls, seemingly the only untouched thing in the whole of the cabin. Still perfectly in place, Countess Tourvelle's curls cascaded down he neck , tips turning to crimson as they brushed against the bloody gash. The sight was morbid, blood curdling. I backed away from the ornate carriage, lifting a trembling hand to a silent mouth. Closing the door I just stared through the curtained window. Even the once cream drapes had turned a sinful red.

The reflection staring back from the carriage window was all in red tones, even the figure staring back at me looked bloody. The glazed over reflection looked foreign and lost. How could something so beautiful hold something so fearsome inside? Something once so innocent and precious becoming something mocking and tainted.

"Genevieve" a voice came from behind her stiff back." Come, we must call on a carpenter for caskets." She paused and I knew all too well. "someone must tell the child." Then and there we knew It would not be possible. We would call a carpenter, but no one wanted to be the one to break the poor child's heart. Instead we sent her to the Lady Anna for a home without any formal departure or reasoning. We hoped she would not be too upset, but what else could be expected? She was old enough to understand and more than capable of holding grudges. Maybe all we could do is hope that she would someday understand and begin to forgive us as she grew over time.

Since then every morning, however bright, always has seemed gray and foreboding. A foggy memory clouding every ray of sunshine. But ever so scarcely a few beams would break through, lighting up a very blessed soul And then cloud over again, leaving the faintest of pricks of warmth and light. Warmth and light that would no longer grace our home. A warmth we would forever remember as Abigale.

A/N: preferanceson continuing the story? Chapters one and two are started and being edited. Does anyone want to know the story of Abbie and the burdenous secret that Count and Countess Tourvelle died for? Your reviews will tell the tale...

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-Lovely