A/N: I know a lot of you are really mad at Jerrold right now, but really, there is a reason. And you'll find out later. Even though all of you hate him, I don't! of course, I made him so I can't hate him, it's just wrong. My characters are like my children, and I can't hate my children. But then, again…I hate John… I hate children! I should really get help with that… But enjoy!! Btw: how do you get line breaks in there? This is really short, but I couldn't end it anywhere else.

Chapter 6

"Daria!" A light tone called across the road.

Daria looked up from her chat with Jeremy the amiable street vendor, smiling as she saw who was calling out to her.

"Eleanor!" She said to the black haired girl that was running towards her.

Eleanor stood next to her, panting. "I have great news!" She breathed.

Daria waited, expecting to hear some daily news occurring in the interesting lives of the rich part of town, some thing that had happened in the girl's day. The story she got from her was quite unexpected.

oOoOoOo

(flashback)

Eleanor nervously looked at her mirror, trying to smooth out her hair. Her parents didn't like it if even one strand was out of its place, her mother in particular. She herself preferred it messy, and not in pristine condition, but that mattered not if her parents didn't like it. It really wasn't that she cared what her parents thought of her appearance. She mostly ignored their adamant ranting on how a proper young lady was to be dressed. But today, she decided it was only to her favor that she pleased them as much as she could.

"Eleanor!" She heard her mother call out irately. "Eleanor! Are you quite done yet? Dinner is in fifteen minutes."

"Mother! I am getting dressed!"

"Oh!" she heard her mother's surprised, but delighted exclamation. "Then you take just as long as you want!"

She rolled her eyes in the mirror. A habit she was quite fond of executing. It wasn't as if she had never needed to. Oh…There had been many occasions.

She put her focus back into the mirror, trying to style her hair exactly as her mother liked it—the way her peers (the other noble's children) had made it. She thought silently to herself as she struggled to pull a lock of hair back. Silently because she didn't think it too wise to talk to one's self.

All the other girls whom her mother thought to be her friends were too stuck up for her. Too lost in their own prissy worlds to really realize what was happening in the world. But Eleanor saw. She saw every time she peaked out of her carriage on the way to the royal castle for one of those extravagant parties. Those people who never could have dreamed of all those luxuries they took for granted every day. This was why she was glad she met Daria all those weeks ago. It had been a month since she had known her. And with Daria was where Eleanor spent most of her time now-a-days. All her life, time seemed to be slowed down. But those days with Daria sped right by. So in that short time, Eleanor felt closer to Daria than any other person.

When she assured herself that her hair was perfect, at least perfect enough for her vain parents' standards, she headed downstairs. She was already dressed in her Mother's favorite gown. One using a prodigal amount of lace and frills. It was said to have matched her spice green eyes perfectly. Personally, she hated it. She hated it so much she wanted to cut it into pieces, then stuff those pieces in the blender, and then put the shredded remain of the dress on fire, and then use that fire to roast marshmallows and laugh manically by while dancing on the ashes once the fire died out…Eleanor was often told that her mind was original and unique.

(A/N: sorry if that seemed a bit weird to you. Just needed to vent.)

She opened the door and regally made her way down the stairs the way she was taught to, one hand resting gently on the rail as she stiffly walked down. Eleanor held her head up so as not to let one hair out of place. She saw her mother in the dining room, looking around eagerly for when Eleanor would walk in.

"Eleanor! Oh my word! You look magnificent!" she gushed out, rushing to her esteemed progeny. "See? How many times have I told you? You look absolutely wonderful!" Eleanor was forced to stop her eyes from rolling, though she admitted to herself later on that it was rather hard to with this goggling women babbling away above her. It was a pity that getting dressed would make her mother this happy when there were currently tons of other pressing matters in Kyrria. She stiffly wrenched herself away from her mother and sat down in her seat, the farthest one from her mother and father's.

Immediately, servants rushed in with roasted and herbed scallops, drenched with a hearty sauce. And on the side of this meal was, for Eleanor's parents, a dark garnet wine, and for Eleanor some sweet cordial. Eleanor was about to speak up after her first bite, but suddenly, she was at a loss for what to say. She took another bite and opened up her mouth, but once again her mind blanked and she hastily chomped down another spoon. Soon the pastries were being brought in for dessert and Eleanor still hadn't uttered a single word. She chewed down on the syrupy insides of her richly coated with sugar cake. She tore her eyes away from her plate and to the faces of her parents of which were staring blankly into space as they did most dinners.

"hem hem" a cough came from her father. "I must go over to good old Thomas' house. Said I would be there soon after dinner." And he left the room. Pretty soon, the same would with her mother.

She absentmindedly scooped up a stray lump of spices from her plate and stuck it into her mouth while she though. Once the fiery sensation in her mouth started, her eyes started to bulge and she coughed violently. Her mother looked in her direction queerly. Once she gobbled down a few goblets of iced water, her mother started. "Eleanor, are you quite alright?"

"Yes."

"Do you need anything?"

Eleanor paused. This was the moment. It was a perfect moment and she had to take it. It was so hard getting the words out. It wasn't this hard to ask one of those common questions.

"Can you pass some of the strudel?" That was a very easy question.

"Yes, yes of course."

Now here was the harder part.

"Mother," she sputtered out.

"Yes, Eleanor?" she said back, strudel coming along with it.

"I have this friend…"

Her mother immediately brightened up, her elevated cheekbones rising higher. Eleanor often digressed from the path of social welfare, at least with their part of society. She was always pushed her to meet other people, but Eleanor always immediately became harsh and anti-social. To hear that she had made a friend let her spirits rise.

"From which house, dear?"

"Actually, she's an orphan, on the streets."

And those spirits fell.

"Her name is Daria." Eleanor put out.

"And, I thought that maybe we could…" she trailed off.

"That we could what?" her mother barked out, "That we could just take her in?"

Eleanor slumped in her seat.

"Think, Eleanor, Think what that could do to our status. Taking in a filthy beggar girl. It would absolutely tarnish our reputation!"

Her mother's face turned down pitifully. "I have a hard enough time looking after one daughter. Might as well have had a son." She muttered to herself.

An idea sparked in her mind.

"She's very pretty."

Her mother's eyebrows raised.

oOoOoOo

Daria's eyes widened.

"You what! You did, and your mo—huh?"

Eleanor squealed and jumped up and down again. "All I have to do is wash that dirt away!" She let go of Daria's shoulders and surveyed her head to toe. "…And comb that hair, and get you out of those rags, and get those nails cleaned through…" Her confident pose dropped for a split second before once again coming back. "We have a lot of work to do!" She said determinedly, dragging Daria to her house with no room for any arguing.