Marcella

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"Roxane... Roxane."

The master's daughter was calling her. Roxane looked around, just to make sure she wasn't talking to someone else. But of course that was foolish because Marcella already spoke her name.

"Miss?" asked Roxane as politely as she could without showing her annoyance. There was still a lot of work to do, and Marcella was probably going to just give her another tedious task.

Marcella pulled Roxane behind the wall. She looked oddly flushed, like she had a fever. "I need you to go to the front gates for me," she said. She spoke very fast and her eyes were flitting everywhere.

"What?" Roxane checked herself just in time to lower her head respectfully. "But the wo - I mean, the mistress won't allow..."

Marcella pushed her so hard Roxane nearly lost her balance. "Did I say anything about my mother?" she snapped. But her anger disappeared as quickly as it had come. "Little Roxane, cute Roxane," she said sweetly. "All you have to do is go to the front gates, alright?" Here, Marcella leaned close and whispered in Roxane's ear. When she finished, she leaned back and smiled, exposing her large horse-ish teeth. "Good girl. Come to my room as soon as you're back."

"Yes, miss," muttered Roxane.

"And do NOT tell anyone about this - not anyone - do you understand?"

Marcella had never sounded so much like her mother, but Roxane kept this thought to herself. "Yes," she said.

"Alright then. Go!"

What choice did Roxane have? She put down the basket full of clothes she had been ready to wash, took off her cleaning apron, and made her way to the back door, avoiding the cook who was thankfully whistling a tune, too absorbed in chopping vegetables to notice.

As she ran she couldn't help but wonder if this was the smart thing to do. If she got caught, she would be the one in trouble, not Marcella... And what if this was a trap? It wouldn't be the first time one of the woman's nasty children played a trick on her. One year Marcella's brother had broken the woman's favorite porcelain vase and blamed Roxane for it. Roxane had gotten a good beating with the wooden stick for it. She had a red welt on her back for two days.

But it was too late to turn back now... Roxane slowed down as she neared the gates. She looked around for the person wearing the brown cap.

"Marcella?" a voice whispered.

Roxane turned and saw a dark silhouette hunched at the side of the gates. She walked over and brusquely held out her palm.

"I'm her maid. Marcella said you have something to give me?"

The person tipped up his brown cap. His eyes widened as he looked at her, and for some reason he turned as pink as Marcella had done a few minutes before. "Yes, uh, h-hold on. I have it..."

Roxane resisted the urge to roll her eyes. So this was the guy Marcella mentioned? So much for "dazzlingly handsome, with the most beautiful eyes." He couldn't even talk right.

The person put the folded piece of parchment in Roxane's open hand. As he did so his fingers lingered on hers in a way Roxane didn't like.

"Wh-what's your name? I'm Alfred," he said, clearing his throat. "But you can call me Alfie... if you'd like."

Roxane yanked back her hand. "Goodbye," she said pointedly.

He seemed to mistake that for sincerity. "Oh, yes, goodbye," he said with a giddy grin. He took off his brown cap and gave her a gallant bow. "I bid you a good day, my fair maiden."

Roxane didn't wait to see him leave. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and that weirdo, as fast as possible.

When she got back, Marcella snatched the parchment from Roxane so greedily she nearly tore it. "Ohh, he's so romantic," she breathed. She caught Roxane's eye and smiled smugly. "This is grown-up stuff, you wouldn't know. Someday though, if you're lucky you might."

Marcella was still laughing into her pillow and rolling around on her bed as Roxane left. Is this what grown-ups do? If so, Roxane wasn't very interested in growing up.