MERRY CHRISTMAS! (or you seasonal equivalent)
HI everyone. I can't apologize enough for taking so long to update. I'll try my best to make it up to you. This chapter is a filler though so don't expect too much. Special thanks so all my reviewers. I love you all( loud, dramatic sobbing). So enjoy, (and reviewing never hurts), and God Bless.
sophianwin: Sorry about those errors. "Hands" was meant to be singular. My typing skills are minimal, although I know that's no excuse. Thank you so much for your review and I'll read over my chapters more carefully from now on.
Tiger Lily21: Thank you so much! I'm so glad your enjoying this story. You're right about it being like My Fair Lady. I didn't eve realize it. I LOVE that play so my subconcious probably used it to inspire me. Enjoy!
sealednectar, Amber Stag, and Rowenhood: Thank you all so much for reviewing and saying nice things about my story (big, sweet, smile). I'm sooooo sorry It's taken so long to update, but school takes over my life. I'm trying to write as many chapters as I can over break so I can just post them when I'm in school. I hope you enjoy this one!
By the way, I know where I'm going with this story but if any readers have any ideas let me know. If I should decide to use any or am inspired by any, rest assured I will give you credit.
It was the longest fortnight of Morena's life. The sole part of it, besides the very end, that Morena would remember was writing to her mother. Not once in one of her letters to her mother had she so much as alluded to the Baron. Now she had to explain that she, an eighteen year old indentured servant without a penny to her name, was leaving for a place she did not know with a very wealthy young bachelor. The thought of this hardly gave her pause. She knew the Baron. He was committed to his art alone. She knew he could not think of intimacy in any way with anything that would distract him from his passion and calling. So she praised the Baron's virtues to her mother and reminded her what an opportunity it would be in so many ways. And it really would be. To her brother Roberto, the sibling to whom she was closest, she wrote a different letter. He knew all about the Baron but kept it a secret from their mother. He would be happy for her. Two years ago, after mother's millinery practice was bringing in an income, he'd been apprenticed to the master of the western docks, a very important man in the port town of Colista, and an old friend of their fathers who'd been eager to help their family. Roberto's future was assured and for that Morena was grateful. One less care to weigh on her. Now that she would be getting a paying job Morena would be able to help her mother with the other three children Maria, Antonio, and little Lucia. Little Lucia, Morena reflected, would hardly be little anymore. She wouldn't recognize her own sister if she was face to face with her.
The final day at the manor arrived. Morena rose early to help prepare for the banquet that evening. There were sauces to make, dough to roll, places to set. It would be a busy day. She'd been ordered to leave the house by midnight, why she didn't know, but she was eager to get out.
That day, busy in the kitchen, she listened to the cook and kitchen maids talk rapidly in their strange, thick, lower-class Fraznian accents that she still had trouble understanding. She remembered when she'd first come to the manor. As a child she'd spent most of her time at the docks. She'd loved the excitement and bustle, she'd delighted in seeing the pretty, exotic things that were unloaded from ships that had sailed from all corners of the earth, and a child could always earn a few pennies sweeping up the cargo space in a recently unloaded ship, or unloading some of the lighter items. In this atmosphere with her remarkably quick ear she was conversational in four languages besides Itolnian including Fraznian before she was 10. However, in a strange land, far from her family and everything familiar, still grieving over the loss of her beloved father, she lacked the confidence to speak the language to anyone else and feared the ridicule aimed at her when she did because of her Itolnian accent which made her Fraznian sound like the dignified dialect spoken by the upper-classes. So, the rest of the servants took her for either stupid or arrogant or both and had little to do with the quiet foreigner. She'd been quite lonely until she discovered the music concerts. And then that happy day when the musician forgot his violin and she claimed it. Finally, the day she'd met the Baron and her entire life was changed.
"My goodness you're thoughtful today!" Morena thought to herself, adding some sprigs of rosemary to the soup, "and not about the usual things you're thoughtful about."
For she rarely dwelt on her family or her past in Itolni. It was too painful. Lately her thoughts always dwelt on the Baron, that is to say, they dwelt on music and the Opera she would be singing at, thoughts it was impossible to exclude the Baron from. "Just a few more hours," she kept telling herself, "just a few."
At midnight she dragged her tiny trunk with her belongings to the stable to wait. It was raining and cold. At first her anticipation and excitement kept her warm but as the hours went on and the feast didn't end, and there was no sign of even the Baron's coachmen or manservant to keep her company she wanted to scream with impatience. She would have taken her violin out to play but the moisture in the air was bad for it. She had it wrapped in some old cloth to protect it and placed it in the very middle of her trunk to protect it from the bumpy carriage.
It was two in the morning when the Baron's servants arrived, bearing the news that it would be at least another hour.
That night Rodrigo de dealt with his own impatience. His feast began at eight. He was seated at the place of honor with the Viscomte's daughter Bianca to his right. Her mother, still hoping for an engagement, had made sure of it. Bianca was a haughty girl, frightened by her mother's high hopes and expectations into near absolute silence. She had been educated as befitted her rank (if she had been born a boy she would have been third in line for the throne after only the Crown prince) but produced little original thought. Despite the culture she'd been exposed to she was a stereotype of the young noblewoman. The two of them made polite conversation. She was beautiful, Rodrigo couldn't help but note. Her perfectly golden hair was done up fashionably, her eyes were deep blue in color, her lips an enchanting red. Her figure was stylishly crafted thanks to the dictates of a corset. Her skin had a healthy tint and charming flush to it. However, he couldn't help comparing her to another female he knew. Morena's rich brown hair suited her face better than Bianca's golden locks, her green eyes were just as lovely as, and fathoms deeper than Bianca's blue ones, she was pale though, he knew, from lack of sleep and overwork indoors, and excessively slim from the same. He smiled thinking of her, of her life he was about to change. "For music's sake." he reminded himself. "For her's." another part of him returned.
Now if only he could escape from this ridiculous celebration.
He snuck away at quarter past three. He was greeted in the stables by the polite bows of his two servants and the beaming face of Morena.
"Kind of you to be so prompt Signor." she tried to tease but she was to excited to do so effectively.
"I couldn't get away." he answered truthfully. For the past two hours each time he'd tried he'd been kidnaped by the Vicomtess to dance with her daughter again, "but we need to make up for lost time," he continued seriously, "it's a long way." His coachmen opened the carriage door for him and Petar began to help Morena onto the driver's bench.
"Morena," he corrected, "come in the carriage with me, we have much to discuss."
Petar helped her down but she noticed he looked at her strangely as he did so. She stepped into the coach and a minute later they were underway. Morena looked out of the window as her hell on earth shrank until at long last it disappeared from view. As soon as it did Morena leaned back and exhaled deeply. Only then did she realize that she was seated on rich, soft blue velvet, and that the Baron had lain a blanket across her lap. She realized she was cold and pulled it up around her. She sighed again, contentedly.
"Tired Morena?" the baron asked finally
"Not in the least" she replied, "I haven't felt like this in years. I'm much to happy and excited to be sleepy."
He smiled. She was glowing with happiness. Her eyes glistened not with tears as he had seen them do before but with pure, emanating joy. How she must have hated that place, he thought to himself.
"You ought to sleep. We'll get there by evening but we'll need to be up early to start working. I hope you remember your music theory."
"Every bit of it. I've been humming intervals to myself constantly lately."
"Good. I've written to my assistant about you."
"You have an assistant? You never mentioned him to me."
"Of course. His name is Signor Antonio De Dremas. He manages everything that needs managing in my career. We met at university. His great-great-grandfather had been the chief court musician. He was given a counthood. His family are still musicians but not very successful ones and they've hardly any money. They're the classic impoverished nobles. He was sent to University to study music, having to pick of some odd-jobs secretly to pay for it. He's no good at music and would rather have studied anything else. So we switched. I took his music classes and he took my economics classes. We hoodwinked our parents for four years." He laughed heartily. "It wasn't until after poor Antonio graduated and his family discovered he didn't know the difference between a major and minor chord that his found out. They wrote to my parents to tell them about our deception but," he stopped smiling and was suddenly solemn, "the letter never was able to find them. They'd started out on their trip around the continent right after I came back from school. Their ship ran into a gale a year later and didn't make it out."
"I'm sorry." Morena said gently and sincerely. He'd never told her this
"I hardly felt anything. I almost didn't know them. I was raised by a nanny and a tutor. That's been the trade-off in my life. Vaults of money and acres of land but no intimacy. You're fortunate Morena. At least you have memories of your father. For the rest of my life I'll regret that I don't."
Morena sought for something comforting to say, but could only utter, "I'm very sorry." with perfect sincerity.
"But on to happier things," he continued gaily, "are you looking forward to your musical career?"
"M musical career," she repeated, "I don't think it can really happen. Not to me."
"But it will happen," he countered happily, "very shortly. A year from now you'll be the lead in Il pulchreza."
"Il pulchreza!" she exclaimed, "you want me to be Marina?"
"I wrote the part for you."
It was the opera he was still working on, the arias of which he'd taught her to sing
"It will cause a stir I promise you." he said.
"What is Parissinia like?" she asked.
"Large, busy, crowded in some parts. You'll like it. Its theaters and concert halls and operas are almost unrivaled anywhere on the continent."
"I can't wait. Yet I'm frightened. It'll be a new world for me Signor."
"Yes, it will. But you'll adjust. The real Morena I know that hides behind her servant front will come out for all to see. I can't wait Morena."
"Neither can I. I think I'm in a dream."
"It's real Morena."
She's so happy, he thought to himself. She needs to know how she got here. I have to tell her. His stomach twisted in a knot. They were enjoying each other's company. He'd never seen her so happy as she was. But she deserved to know.
"Morena, I have to tell you something." he said seriously
"Signor?"
"Do you have any idea how I got the Baron to allow you to leave?"
"No. I assumed you persuaded him."
He sighed and took a piece of paper from his pocket, "do you know what this is?" he asked, handing it to her.
"It's my indentured certificate."
"Yes, look at it."
"It has your name on it," she said slowly, "You bought me." she said at last. She looked up at him for an explanation and his guilty eyes met hers.
"I'm so sorry Morena, It was the only way I could convince him to let you go."
"So I really don't have a choice as to whether or not I'm going to sing, do I?" she said icily.
"Of course you do! Morena, I wouldn't...Give me that paper." he grabbed the paper and rapidly tore it to shreds.
Morena stared at him. Then smiled. It was wonderful of him. Yes he had purchased her. The thought of being bought and sold for a second time turned her stomach. But he didn't have to by her. He could have left her at the manor and found another singer to train. And she couldn't imagine how much the Vicomte must have demanded for her. And just now he'd thrown all that money away when he'd torn up the certificate and freed her. If she didn't want to sing she didn't have to. Of course she would, but she could decide. For the first time in six years she could say no. For all he knew at the moment his investment might come to nothing if he refused. He willingly risked his money on her. Her eyes welled up with tears. No, she would not cry in front of him again. Despite herself a tear rolled down her cheek. She swiftly wiped it away and calmed.
"Thank you Signor."
"You're not angry with me then?"
At the earnest look with which he spoke those words she couldn't speak and could only shake her head.
"Thank God. Another episode with you angry at me would take years off my life."
She laughed.
"And, will you sing?"
"Of course I will."
They talked of other things as the carriage rolled on. It bounced through little villages and open meadows. Morena had tears in her eyes several times. It was so beautiful! She'd not been out of sight of the manor in six years. Now she felt free. Now she was free. As the day went on and they traveled farther south the rain clouds disappeared and the sky turned crisp blue. They didn't stop at an inn to lunch for Morena had brought some cold poultry left over from the banquet. It was night when they finally rolled into Parisinnia, they'd been traveling for almost a full day when they reached the Baron's house. It was large, very large, in what she knew must be a very stylish area of the city. It was one of countless sandstone facades that stretched on down the city blocks.
Neither traveler had been able to sleep due to the constant bouncing of the carriage. Morena was exhausted. She heard the Baron tell her as he helped her out of the carriage that the woman in front of her was Marie and would show her to her rooms. She followed the woman up stairs, through corridors and at last into one of the most beautiful rooms she'd ever seen. It was spacious with a large fireplace directly in front and large windows to the right. Next to the windows was a good sized, beautiful desk. In front of the fireplace were arranged a couch and two chairs with a table in the center. Bookshelves lined the walls around the fireplace. To the left was a door through which Marie led Morena. Straight ahead was another large window. On the right wall was another fireplace and on the left a large light wood four poster bed in lavender linens. Through a haze of exhaustion Morena was made to understand that the large, beautiful rooms were her living quarters. Someone brought in her trunk and she changed into her nightgown. Finally she slipped between the softest, smoothest sheets she'd ever felt, onto the softest, most comfortable mattress and pillows she'd ever lain on. With a roaring fire across from her, she closed her curtains and fell asleep. If she were any less tired she wouldn't have been able to sleep in her beautiful, comfortable, fine surroundings.
