A/N: I admit this was originally going to be a Mush fic, but I think
Crutchy deserves to get the girl once in awhile ^__^ yaaaaay Crutchy! Btw,
I'm only going to write the accent a little bit because I don't want to
take anything away from the story.
Disclaimer: See previous chapter.
~*~*~*~*~
The star necklace was still haunting Livvy's mind as she returned to TerraceBrook Manor where she served as a maid. Snowflakes melted on her thick ebony eyelashes as the pleasant warm unfroze her bones. Flames stretched higher like blooming flowers in the kitchen fireplace lined with bricks. Livvy's snow dampened coat hung limply on the servant's coat rack.
"Livvy! Child is that you? We have much work still to do, where have you been?"
The girl turned her head in the direction of the voice. Cook was standing behind her, arms crossed but eyes relieved, her squalid apron exhibiting the remains of the Master's dinner. Livvy shamefully looked at her red hands roughened from years of work.
"But it's nearly nine o'clock, Cook, I, well I assumed we would be done." Livvy stammered slightly, she knew very well that the Master was holding a dinner party tomorrow evening. All the servants, maids, helpers and keepers were to prepare for the sure to be exquisite event.
Cook raised an unkempt black brow and pointed to a pile of silverware, dulled by use.
"You're right lucky to be working in TerraceBrooke Manor rather than in a factory! Those poor souls have shifts 'till midnight sometimes. Count your lucky stars, Olivia." Cook turned on a black booted heel, striding out importantly.
'If only I had a lucky star.' Livvy sighed inwardly. She knew such luxury items like that necklace were for real ladies, not maids who worked in a kitchen. 'Papa always told me not to wish for such things, I should be lucky to be alive. What is the point of being alive if I can't enjoy it?'
Thoughts clouded her mind, pulling her away from reality as she imagined being as rich as the Master, wearing silken dresses from France and washing with fine lilac soap from England. She subconsciously polished the silverware, using her worn down nails to clean in the intricate patterns on the handles.
A sudden knock on the thick wooden door shattered her cordial thoughts and she slowly put down a half polished spoon. The knock was heard once more, frantic this time as though the person outside was desperate. Livvy turned the engraved brass handle. A boy no older than her, stood outside in the frigid cold his eyes wide, his wild brassy hair hidden under a cap. Livvy noticed he held a crutch.
"Could ya spare a moment, miss, an' let me hide here for a bit? I promise not ta steal anything. An' I'll leave whenever you want! The bulls are aftah me, miss." He spoke swiftly and nervously, glancing over his shoulder every so often.
Livvy knew she wasn't to let anyone come inside the manor unless they were obviously meant to be there, and this boy certainly wasn't. Her heart went out to him; his brows were furrowed with a small desperate half smile, his eyes pleading. She hurried him in, urging to be quiet. The boy took a place at the table, his crutch resting against the chair.
Livvy studied him silently for a moment. 'Poor soul.' She thought, 'most likely one of those ragamuffin street rats.' She suddenly felt ashamed for calling him a street rat in her mind, surely he had a reason to hide from the police, but that didn't mean he was a full-fledged criminal. The boy shivered, the cold still resting in his bone marrow.
"Are you cold?" Livvy asked, noticing the involuntary shiver.
The boy shook his head but looked hopeful. Livvy carefully placed another piece of tinder in the fireplace, and ladled a bowlful of thin soup for him. She set the bowl in front of him.
"If I, I, give you this spoon to use, do you promise not to take it with you when you leave?"
The boy laughed, "Yeah, I promise." Livvy smiled, his laugh was golden.
Curiosity over took her and she shyly asked, "What's your name by the way?"
'Crutchy, my name's Crutchy.' The boy replied, 'whatta'bout you?'
"Livvy. Well, Olivia actually, but I prefer Livvy."
Crutchy glanced out the window sheeted with delicate frosty lace, he let out a small sigh of relief and turned towards the door from which he came in.
'It looks clear now, I oughta be going." He announced to Livvy, and limped out.
"By the way, t'anks." One foot was out the door, he turned back to Livvy, smiling and left.
Livvy watched him go, his shadowy outline barely visible through the torrents of snow. She smiled softly and picked up another dull argent piece of silverware.
Derby: Wee Crutchy! More fluffy romance next chapter.
Disclaimer: See previous chapter.
~*~*~*~*~
The star necklace was still haunting Livvy's mind as she returned to TerraceBrook Manor where she served as a maid. Snowflakes melted on her thick ebony eyelashes as the pleasant warm unfroze her bones. Flames stretched higher like blooming flowers in the kitchen fireplace lined with bricks. Livvy's snow dampened coat hung limply on the servant's coat rack.
"Livvy! Child is that you? We have much work still to do, where have you been?"
The girl turned her head in the direction of the voice. Cook was standing behind her, arms crossed but eyes relieved, her squalid apron exhibiting the remains of the Master's dinner. Livvy shamefully looked at her red hands roughened from years of work.
"But it's nearly nine o'clock, Cook, I, well I assumed we would be done." Livvy stammered slightly, she knew very well that the Master was holding a dinner party tomorrow evening. All the servants, maids, helpers and keepers were to prepare for the sure to be exquisite event.
Cook raised an unkempt black brow and pointed to a pile of silverware, dulled by use.
"You're right lucky to be working in TerraceBrooke Manor rather than in a factory! Those poor souls have shifts 'till midnight sometimes. Count your lucky stars, Olivia." Cook turned on a black booted heel, striding out importantly.
'If only I had a lucky star.' Livvy sighed inwardly. She knew such luxury items like that necklace were for real ladies, not maids who worked in a kitchen. 'Papa always told me not to wish for such things, I should be lucky to be alive. What is the point of being alive if I can't enjoy it?'
Thoughts clouded her mind, pulling her away from reality as she imagined being as rich as the Master, wearing silken dresses from France and washing with fine lilac soap from England. She subconsciously polished the silverware, using her worn down nails to clean in the intricate patterns on the handles.
A sudden knock on the thick wooden door shattered her cordial thoughts and she slowly put down a half polished spoon. The knock was heard once more, frantic this time as though the person outside was desperate. Livvy turned the engraved brass handle. A boy no older than her, stood outside in the frigid cold his eyes wide, his wild brassy hair hidden under a cap. Livvy noticed he held a crutch.
"Could ya spare a moment, miss, an' let me hide here for a bit? I promise not ta steal anything. An' I'll leave whenever you want! The bulls are aftah me, miss." He spoke swiftly and nervously, glancing over his shoulder every so often.
Livvy knew she wasn't to let anyone come inside the manor unless they were obviously meant to be there, and this boy certainly wasn't. Her heart went out to him; his brows were furrowed with a small desperate half smile, his eyes pleading. She hurried him in, urging to be quiet. The boy took a place at the table, his crutch resting against the chair.
Livvy studied him silently for a moment. 'Poor soul.' She thought, 'most likely one of those ragamuffin street rats.' She suddenly felt ashamed for calling him a street rat in her mind, surely he had a reason to hide from the police, but that didn't mean he was a full-fledged criminal. The boy shivered, the cold still resting in his bone marrow.
"Are you cold?" Livvy asked, noticing the involuntary shiver.
The boy shook his head but looked hopeful. Livvy carefully placed another piece of tinder in the fireplace, and ladled a bowlful of thin soup for him. She set the bowl in front of him.
"If I, I, give you this spoon to use, do you promise not to take it with you when you leave?"
The boy laughed, "Yeah, I promise." Livvy smiled, his laugh was golden.
Curiosity over took her and she shyly asked, "What's your name by the way?"
'Crutchy, my name's Crutchy.' The boy replied, 'whatta'bout you?'
"Livvy. Well, Olivia actually, but I prefer Livvy."
Crutchy glanced out the window sheeted with delicate frosty lace, he let out a small sigh of relief and turned towards the door from which he came in.
'It looks clear now, I oughta be going." He announced to Livvy, and limped out.
"By the way, t'anks." One foot was out the door, he turned back to Livvy, smiling and left.
Livvy watched him go, his shadowy outline barely visible through the torrents of snow. She smiled softly and picked up another dull argent piece of silverware.
Derby: Wee Crutchy! More fluffy romance next chapter.