October 27, 1797

Mrs. Edelstein is a tough teacher, but I think I'm doing well. She hasn't yelled at me much, and she even let me go to the last ball! I think I can almost fit in with the snobs!

Roderich has been trying to get into a musical college. Can you believe he's already 18? It seems like just last year that I met him- but then again, it WAS just last year! He's really stressed though, so I'm trying to stay out of his way. I hope he doesn't think I'm avoiding him.

My happiest expressions,

Elizabeta


It hadn't been that long, yet Elizabeta had undergone a total transformation. Her hair had grown out even longer and was trimmed to an even length. She was forbidden from wearing her bandana, but instead wore a long ribbon to hold her hair from her eyes. Mrs. Edelstein had cut her bangs so they hung straight over her eyes, but she messed them up and brushed them over, just to feel like herself. She was forced to wear tight corsets and jewelry of all sorts, and often complained about feeling like a doll rather than a girl. She went around barefoot unless she couldn't help it. Mr. Edelstein had warmed up to her dramatically, and when his wife wasn't around, he let her dress in pants and a man's shirt when she relaxed. Even Mrs. Edelstein was less strict with her in the house. The one thing both adults enforced was the task of weaning Elizabeta of her habits as a maid. When she did the dishes, they scolded her. When she washed the household's laundry, she was scolded. Yet despite her scolding, she continued to independently care for herself. After breakfast, she always washed her dishes first, so when the told her to stop, she had cleaned up after herself. When she did laundry, hers was always first on the rack, drying before they pulled her away.

"It's uncouth for a young maiden to work like a servant!" Mrs. Edelstein said exasperatedly.

"I'm not, ma'am," Elizabeta replied, "I'm washing my own dishes and my own clothes."

"That's the maid's job."

"It was my job until a few months ago," Elizabeta replied, her tone slightly biting. The woman picked up on the attitude in her voice.

"Would you like to return to that?" the woman threatened. Her husband, perched indolently on his overstuffed chair with a pipe, spoke up.

"Darling, leave Elizabeta alone," he said lazily, "If she wants to act like a peasant, let her. It's the last bit of her culture she has." Elizabeta didn't comment on his stereotyping, because he wasn't obliged to help her in this fight.

"What she's doing is ruining her lovely hands!" the woman shot back irritably. She grabbed on of the girl's thirsty hands and held it up as an example. "She has the most beautiful hands- or rather; she would if she treated them better!"

"I like my hands like this," Elizabeta said. The woman sighed histrionically.

"Fine, fine. Obviously, I can't get through to you." She released the girl's hand and turned.

"I'm going to visit Madam Lorene's house," she told her husband, brushing her hand behind her ear.

"Have fun, dear," he said, and the woman nodded.

"I'll return for sup." She left and shut the door tightly behind her. Elizabeta turned to the man.

"Thank you, Mr. Edelstein."

"It's nothing," he replied, taking a long draw from his pipe. "Roderich was looking for you, by the way. He said to find him in the music room." The girl was surprised.

"Did he seem upset?"

"Not at all. Why?" the man sat up straighter. "Did something occur between you two?" Elizabeta shook her head.

"Nothing, sir. Nothing at all." She curtseyed politely, pulled the ribbon from her hair and tossed her mane of caramel curls freely, laughed and turned. The man smiled quietly. In the months she had been here, she had become like a daughter. A tomboy daughter. And despite her complaints, his wife agreed with him. She was family now.

The girl kicked off her tiny slippers and carried them while she sprinted through the house. No one could tell her not to; no one had seen her like this except Roderich. But she slowed before the music room, brushed her dress off, brushed her hair behind an ear, and knocked.

"Come in," came the reply. She opened the door and entered, and there was the familiar picture. Roderich, seated on the piano bench, his head lowered while he played softly. He hadn't changed much since she had come. His hair was still perfect, tamed save for the rogue curl. He still wore the same glasses, the same aubergine coat with the multitude of buttons and white cravat. His expression was always 'refined', tranquil, placid.

"Roderich, you wanted to see me?" He looked up and the soft music stopped.

"Elizabeta…" He moved over on the music bench, and she sat beside him. He was smiling, but it looked controlled.

"What is it?" she asked, looking at him. He finally made eye contact, and he was practically beaming.

"I made it in," he said simply. Her green eyes widened. Then she broke out in a radiant smile.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" She threw her arms around him, and they just laughed and cheered.

"I'm so happy for you!" Elizabeta said, beaming. He was blushing slightly.

"Thank you," he replied, "I don't think I could have made it without you." Her smile fell away for a moment.

"What do you mean? You did all the work," she said, her lips forming an unintentional pout. He chuckled.

"You gave me the drive to keep working. You gave me the courage to try out. You gave me a reason to want to go." He held her chin and her gaze. "Elizabeta… I love you." Her heart leapt to her throat. Her words wouldn't work for her, despite her best efforts, so all she said was:

"R-really?" He laughed.

"Yes, really." He leaned down and kissed her gently, before smiling gently. She was flushed, totally overcome.

"I almost worried that I was ahead of myself," he confided, taking her hands, "But I couldn't be; not when I've so much feeling for you. I mean it when I say it, Elizabeta. I truly love you." Her eyes filled with tears, and he was surprised.

"Did I say too much?"

"N-no!" She cried out, burying her face in his chest, "I love you t-too, Roderich!" She held him tightly, crying tears of joy into his jacket. He chuckled.

"You didn't need to cry, Elizabeta," he mused, putting his arms around her.

"I kn-know!" He only laughed and stroked her hair idly. She's so warm, he thought with a smile, do all girls feel this way? No, they can't. She's special.

"W… when are you leaving for college?" she asked softly, into the soft silk of his coat.

"Next week," he said.

"Can I visit you?"

"Of course. I'll come home every couple of weeks just to see you."

"Really?"

"Yes," he said, stroking her hair gently, "I'll bring flowers, too."

"Don't waste your money on me," she said, laughing. Her cheeks were stained crimson.

"It's not wasting if it's spent on you," he said softly. The young woman blushed brighter.

"Don't say things like that!" she stammered. He chuckled and held her to his chest gently.

"I can't help it. I'm a slave to my feelings for you, Elizabeta." The man laughed as the girl's cheeks turned an unearthly shade of crimson. Then she closed her eyes and sighed.

"Will it always be this great, Roderich?" He smiled gently.

"Of course," he said gently. "We'll get our own house, and we'll have a great life. Just the two of us."

"What if I want kids?" Elizabeta said, her tone light. A smile graced her lips.

"We'll have a dozen if you want," Roderich promised. She laughed. They just lay like that until supper, and no one asked because it was none of their concern.