Adele is a really nice name and so I thought about a story kinda set in the days of kings and queens like the times of Marie Antoinette and the French revolution
Hope you likey :)
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Disclaimer:- I don't own Beyblades or the characters but I do own my ocs and this story
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Prologue
Late September, the realm of Aenslad. The Gothard Pass. The winds screaming down from the high mountain peaks as though winter had already come, flinging the early snow against the shutters of the inn; now snow, now sleet, was billowing smoke of the log fire in the bedroom, among the curtains of the bed, choking the couple who lay there.
"This is a damnable inn," said Mr Baltimore. "And a damnable country, and a damnable journey. I hope you are pleased, Fiora. Travelling is all very well for a young fellow who must make his way, and look at ruins, but for us! At our age! I am bout forty, and you are as near to it that it makes no difference, and here we are scampering across the realms of Talmond, Mixera, Fargira, and Aenslad like a pair of lunatics."
"Hardly scampering," Mrs Baltimore said with a tired peevishness. "We have been fastened here for four days in what you rightly call this damnable inn. It seems like four months. And if you had for once in our lives consented to listen to me we should by now be in Nalalia and looking forward to a winter of sunshine, and good society.
"Nalalia!" cried Mr Baltimore. "Thieves and beggars! Stenches and dirt and not knowing when one would be stabbed in the street. Was Royton not bad enough for you!"
"I was happy there for the first time in my married life. And if ---" Mrs Baltimore began. A scream from the room next door cut her short. A high lifting, agonised scream that competed with the wind outside, rose above it, seemed to break like shattered glass, and died away into long shudders of pain.
"It had begun," said Mrs Baltimore. "Poor wretched creature."
"Upon my soul," said Mr Baltimore, "What a country, what people? In a public inn at---" He pressed the catch of his little clock and the tiny chimes rang three times, and then gave five sharp little sounds in quick succession. "At five past three in the morning!"
"A woman in labour does not take much account of the time." Mrs Baltimore said.
The scream came again, and Mrs Baltimore put the pillow over her ears. "Go to sleep for heaven's sake."
"Sleep!! What can her people have been thinking of? To send her off like a - like a delivery parcel! At such a time! Could they not count? Do these people not even know that a child comes after nine months, and one should not go lurching about the realms in coaches or - what can her husband be thinking of? Is he a madman?"
"If she has a husband. Go to sleep, you are freezing the bed sitting up like that."
"But there could be no hope of sleep. The screams rang out again and again, hour after hour, until near morning they came swifter, nearer and together. A coming and going in the corridor, heavy feet of servants carrying firewood, buckets of hot water. The midwife, the girl's own servants talking outside the door. A man and a woman. She had arrived in her own coach, her servants travelling with her. A tall, very tall young heavily pregnant noblewoman was trying to conceal it with her cloak. Needing to be helped up the stairs, a whispering and hurrying among the inn people as if they guessed the traveller to be of more that usual consequence. Although she was spoken of as plain 'Madame'.
For three days she had kept to her room, her meals brought up to her, and mostly, Mrs Baltimore had noticed that they were brought down untasted and untouched. Always one of her own servants outside her door, as though she was being guarded from intrusion, although who in heaven's name would wish to intrude her? And now she was giving birth. Mr Baltimore got up and paced the floor in his rage. Not a wink of sleep. Not a sign of the weather breaking. They might be trapped here all winter. All winter! All the hunting season! All the shooting! Trapped in this sink hole with a young woman and a baby and not a human being who spoke Talmish. Except Fiora. And after such a night he was not much inclined to class her among human beings. They should have brought their own servants, although he would have died rather than admit it to Mrs Baltimore.
At least he could have talked to his valet about something.
"Why did we come?" he said. "Why did I let you persuade me? I am an imbecile, I deserve it, I am a weak fool, and a hen pecked lubber lumpkin. Pictures! Statues! Churches! I never say so much trumpery in all my life!"
"Harrison, you have woken me again."
The screams next door had died down, faded, become a gasping for breath, an exhausted sobbing.
"She has finally given birth," Mrs Baltimore said a shadow of bitterness in her voice. She herself had give birth three times, and lost each child within hours. "Now will you come back to bed?" It is over and finished, and if heaven is merciful she will make no more noise."
There was the sound of slapping, and the child began to cry.
"This is intolerable!" Mr Baltimore shouted, "I shall go out of my mind. Is this place an inn or a lying in hospital? When shall we get out of here?" He went to the window and flung open the shutters. Snow fell into the room in a great heap from somewhere, and the wind followed it, tearing at the curtains, the window, Mr Baltimore's nightshirt and nightcap. An ugly, leaden twilight, neither day nor night. Nothing visible, not mountains, or rocks, or road. Mrs Baltimore hid herself under the covers, shrieking.
"I shall die of pneumonia and it will be your fault," Mr Baltimore said, kicking the snow out of the way with his bare feet and trying to refasten the shutters. They slammed out of his hand against the outer wall, and he had to content himself with closing the window with its panes of wood and skins. Not glass! What type of a place is this? What a damnable inn, a rotten sink hole!
It was another four days before the weather changed. Waking to daylight, sunshine, the wind dropped, a snowy landscape, snow peaks glittering, black rocks, patches of grass between the dazzling snowdrifts that were already melting, sparkling like heaps of diamonds.
A bustling of servants, of horses, the young noblewoman's coach being brought round, and the horses put to it. Trunks loaded behind. Mr Baltimore watching through the dinning room window, if one could call such an ill favoured, smoke ridden, bacon smelling hole a dinning room. What were they doing? They could not mean to travel with her in this state? After scarcely four days? But they not only meant it, they were doing it. Her coachman, her postilion already mounted. Her two servants coming out of the inn supporting her. Muffled to the eyes, so that there was almost nothing to see but her tall figure, leaning on her manservant's shoulder, her fur lined bonnet, her long fur cloak.
She seemed so weak that they needed to lift her into the coach. Climbed in after. And the child? Where is the child? The coachman snapping his whip, slapping the long reins on the rumps of his four horses, the coach swaying. And from inside it another scream, "Mon enfant! Ma fille! The coach swayed wildly, the young woman at the coach window, trying to open the door, beating at the glass, her face uncovered now, white, shocked and ill, her mouth opened as she screamed again, "Ma fille, donnez moi ma fille!"
The servants were pulling her back between them, her face vanishing. The coach climbing the roads towards the pass, towards Fargira, her screams still ringing and then cut off, as if they were being stifled. Mr Baltimore stood at the window with his mouth open, shocked into momentary paralysis. What - what had they-? He began to run out of the room, and crashed with his courier, almost knocking him down.
"Joseph! They have gone off without that woman's child, what are they about? After them, stop them!"
The courier held onto him, half to save himself from falling, half to hold his employer back from a useless action.
"Signore, please be calm! Be calm Signore. There are many complications there. Better not to notice happenings that don't concern you sir."
"Not notice? When I've been kept awake four nights on end! And now they go off and leave - what complications?"
"Calm down Signore, please. Many many complications. A young lady from a great family and she has no husband, means much disgrace, so they send her away to Fargira and her time is coming on her here in the inn to soon, do you understand. Leave alone, sir, is a much better idea, always better and the quiet life."
"Let go of my arm, damn you"
But the coach was almost out of sight, was out of sight beyond rocks, a bend in the villainous track that the people of Aenslad had the impotence to call a road.
Mr Baltimore ran round to the back of the inn, thinking of getting a horse, of riding after the monsters. And met the midwife carrying a swaddled bundle that made mewling cries as she held it under her arm like a parcel. Hurrying, looking away from Mr Baltimore, as though the darkness and back stairs were he proper setting, and sunlight and the open air affected her uncomfortably.
"What are you doing?" Mr Baltimore shouted, "Is that the child?" He made to take it; the woman was holding it in such an unwomanly fashion. The old crone begun to run, like a crab, scuttling. Mr Baltimore seized hold of her, shouting, "Fiora, Joseph, someone! Come here, this devilish old hag is going to murder the child." He had no doubt of it as he said it although the suspicion had only entered his mind that second, as the woman began to run. She shook and trembled in his grasp, whistling through her blackened stumps of teeth, jabbering her incomprehensible language.
"Be quiet, you wicked wretch! Give me the child!"
She could not have understood the words, but slowly she relaxed her grasp as Mr Baltimore took hod of it. The innkeeper's wife came running, the innkeeper himself, bowlegged and squinting. The courier, his wife and the inn servants also came out.
"She was taking the child off with her; she was going to murder it!"
"Signore, vi prego! Lascia stare!"
A babble of dialect, Mr Baltimore holding his prize cradled in his arms, still mewling like a kitten. He uncovered the tiny creature's face. A red crumple of skin, a kind of sky blue wisps as soft as clouds on its head and eyes as green as the new leaves in spring. A little kitten mouth opening to shriek, tiny fists freeing themselves from the swaddle, lifting towards Mr Baltimore's face.
"Signore, I beg you give it back to the old woman. Already they are killing the father, shooting him dead as soon as they discover it. Give it back Signore, forget everything to do with those people."
"You ruffian! Fiora, Fiora! Take it, we shall -" He was going to say, "We shall find someone to after it." But just as he had known that the old crone meant to do away with the child, he knew now that he himself meant to keep it, which nothing on earth would get it away from him. They had lost three, and he had wept for them more that Fiora had done. And here was a fourth, put into his arms like an act of heaven. "Take her, Fiora quickly!"
"I have no intention of toughing it," Mrs Baltimore said. "If you insist on making an exhibition of yourself-" Turning to go into the inn again. To stop as if she had been struck. "And if you are thinking-" she cried, clasping her hands together, "If you are so much as imagining that we- that I- " And as she saw her husband's expression, "Harrison! I forbid you! I will not countenance it! Are you barking mad?"
But all her protests were useless, as the outcries of the midwife; of the people in the inn; of Kevin predicting vengeance and death from the nameless 'great family' that had so wisely and honourably condemned this child to a swift return to heaven. "E una bastarda, signore, una nienta. C'e l'onore di sangue, di famiglia! O Signore milor, I beg and pray of you leave her be to these good people."
"Nothing served. By the expenditure of as much good gold as might brought by Mrs Baltimore's maid and Mr Baltimore's valet with them for the entire journey, instead of hiring the damnable people of Aenslad who didn't know how to attend to their hair or brush a coat. The journey was more or less arranged; a wet nurse found, and the long journey towards Aserythe with a small additional passenger sucking contently at a great naked breast, as the carriage swayed and bumped and shuddered down the mountainside.
"I shall name her Adele," Mr Baltimore said, "And I trust that you will never try to persuade me to set my foot outside of our home again so long as I live. Adele? Adele? See she knows me already, the rogue."
The wet nurse changed the baby from one enormous breast to the other. Mrs Baltimore closed her eyes.
"Its a pity of course that she is not a boy," Mr Baltimore said. "But I shall teach her to ride, and she can come hunting with me. There is good bone there. Adele? Adele? Look! She is laughing the villain. You hear her? She is glad to be coming with us to Talmond."
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well people this is kinda something I was working on since I had nothing else to do while on holidays which were kind boring since we have lots of rain. Which means lots of days inside oww.
Read and review
Bye and smiles
ikl wings