Chapter One

I walked down the corridor of my fifteenth century chateau. The chaos around me was indescribable. The valets were running all around hanging tapestries, lighting candelabrums, and calling my name, though I pointedly ignored them.

As you are probably wondering as to what is amiss, there is nothing. You see, I am Countess Arieda Margareet Francis Contessa, Countess of Contell. Tonight is my masquerade. I have just taken place in my humble abode and am throwing a welcoming fete.

A valet stopped my on my way to the foyer.

'Countess Arieda,' he spoke carefully as if afraid to offend me. 'There is a young gentleman, of about your age.' Oh, do forgive me. I seem to have forgotten. I am only a fifteen-year-old girl with impeccable manners and an exquisite vocabulary. Most people I come across find it hard to believe that I am only fifteen. 'He requests your presence in the parlor. He said that he must talk with you.'

'Thank you. I can walk there myself.' I turned around and went in the opposite direction of which I was headed. I stopped in the entryway of the foyer. The young man was indeed about my age, though slightly taller. He had dark hair, dark as ebony, and was immaculately dressed. He was contemplating the vignette of my late father, Count Maxwell Contessa. The portrait hung above a filigreed mantle surrounded by a fireplace that had a fire crackling in a quiet manner.

'He was quite the gentleman you know.' I spoke quietly. He started and turned around. 'I apologize. I did not mean to startle you.'

'It is quite alright.' He had a deep voice. His features seemed austere though something about him intrigued me. His eyes were a clear gray, like the calm after a tremendous storm; his skin was of medium complexion. His presence alone emanated strong grandeur. 'I have met the count before. He was a strong and kind man. I never knew anyone else like him. I was sorry to hear of his death,' he spoke reverently.

'It has been a year since he has gone, though it has been difficult without him. I am managing none-the-less.'

'You look very much like him. The resemblance entrances me.' He said this with such fervid that a sense of ardor stole over me. He did not say it, as though he were a suitor; he said it as if it were a compliment of utmost respect. The way he said it made it sound aright. He was correct though. I did look very much like my father. We both had dark brown hair, almost sable. I had inherited from my mother, though I got their almond shape from my father. My features and complexion were as fair and delicate as my mother's was though they bore a semblance to my father's that was undeniable. My personality was much more like my father's though: calm, quiet, and serene. More likely to perusal an idea or thought than to act on impulse.

'Thank you.' I said smiling. 'That means very much to me.'

'You are welcome. I brought you this; as a welcoming gift. A way of apologizing for appearing so suddenly and demanding your time with no warning at all.' He handed me a sumptuous arabesque of lilies and roses.

'Oh they are lovely! Absolutely beautiful' I exclaimed. I brought them to my nose and smelt the sweet scent radiating from the flowers. 'I shall put them in the foyer where everyone may see them. Thank you.'

'You are welcome. I can see that you are quite busy before I came calling. I shall leave you to go about your doings. I do request, however, that burden you with you my person tomorrow.'

'You do not have to leave. I pray that you shall stay for my masquerade. These days I seem to be in a delirium most of the time, it has been so busy.'

'I am not sure…' He looked uncertain though he must have seen the genuine aghast at the thought of him leaving so soon without him saying what he had come to say. 'Please do stay, Sir…' I realized then that I did not know his name.

'Sir Matthew Willow of Stonebrooke. There I am a duke.' He seemed anxious about telling me.

'Is that so? I do hope that you shall forgive me for my informality.' I said this in a teasing manner, hoping to lift his gloom.

I succeeded. He let out a shout of laughter so frolicsome that I laughed as well.

When his laughter dissipated he studied my countenance with such intense eyes that I was hopeless to do anything but stare back.

'I shall come to your masquerade, but I shant burden you with my words until the following morning.' He said this with such finality that I could do nothing but agree. 'I also wish to be treated just as I had before you knew who I was.'

'Well good sir, I would not flatter yourself. Just because you are a duke does not mean you shall get special treatment from me, though I cannot say the same for others.' He looked shocked by my tone. When he saw the mischievous glint in my eyes he looked at me for a moment before saying, 'Well thank you for that notification.' He said this vehemently though I knew he was bluffing.

'Well if you will excuse me, I shall go prepare for the masquerade.' I bade him farewell until the grandfather clock gonged the hour of eight. Then I headed for the niche that held a door. This door led to a secret passage, a passage that led to my favorite turret and my rooms. Before I made it through the door, he called me back. 'Yes?'

'What are you doing? People cannot walk through walls.' I purported that the door that I was about to walk through was not as apparent to him as it was to me.

'There is a doorway here that has a passage behind it. This passage has other passages from all over the building that flow into it. They all lead up to my rooms.' I went through the door without father ado and went to my turret. As I walked I heard the clock strike the hour of five. I had three hours to prepare.

In my room, I went strait to my window. My chateau was nestled in remote area in the foothills of the Apennines. You could see the bears incipient. Presently I watched a mother and her cubs run through the manifold of the mountains. Something felt wrong, though I did not know what.

With a sigh I started to dress for the masquerade. My gown's pattern was a multiform of deep, true hues of blue, purple, and green. The gown also had a gilded sheer. My thick, dark hair was wound up into a sophisticated twist. Midnight blue shoes with a low heel adorned my feet. The mask I wore had little peculiarities, if any. It was mauve with tiny, intricate beads and would only cover my face if I held it up to my face by the thin stick glued to the mask.

I walked over to the balcony and watched as the guests arrived, wondering if they the same tremulous fear of impending doom that I did. I shook myself from my reveries and headed downstairs. I felt as if I were in a stupor, separate from others. Then I felt someone grab my arm. It was Matthew.

'Arieda, I have been calling your name. Did you not hear me? Are you alright? You look positively pallid.' My perception returned quite quickly.

'I am sorry. To be honest with you, I feel as though something terrible is coming.' I felt as if I had known him all of my life when, in reality, I had met him just a few hours earlier. For some unexplainable reason, I knew that he would not laugh.

'Well if something does, I shall be right beside you. I shall help you.' The look in his eyes was so sincere that I smiled.

'Thank you. I just hope that I am not right.'

'Will you dance with me?' he asked me. Before I could answer, he took me by the arm and led me to the hall where an orchestra was playing a waltz. The hall was bedecked in a rainbow of hues, from black to white and from red to blue.

We danced several dances before we retired to a corner of the room where we sate and talked. It was then that I realized that I felt very relaxed. My uneasiness had imperceptibly became subdued.

We talked of my mother who was visiting my grandparents in Rome and of his parents back in Stonebrook. We talked of everything and of nothing. We heard the clock strike the hours of nine and then ten. We laughed and danced and had a wonderful time.

At a quarter hour after ten, a valet came up to us as we sat talking. He said, 'Madam, I must regretfully inform you that your mother and grandparents have passed on. Their ship sank in a horrific storm as they were headed here. I am truly sorry.' With that, he left.

Hitherto that moment, I had not thought of that sense of doom. Now I did. At ten-fifteen, on the twenty-third of April, sixteen hundred and thirty-six, I became an orphan with no family except for an estranged brother who did not even acknowledge my existence.

Matthew wrapped me in his arms. I just sat there and cried. To me, life now meant very little indeed.