Ok so this is my first attempt at working off anything existing. I've never written a real fanfic and never based any of my stories off existing one so please be nice. I admit the chapter isn't very exciting but I needed to set up the story. I promise more interesting stuff in the upcoming chapters!! However to do that I want reviews. I'm starting to think no one likes my writing so I need encouragement...I know I'm selfish. Thank you in advance :)
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"Enid give me my hat back right now. Mother! Oh where the hell is she? Don't think you're going to get away with this! You look horrible in yellow anyway, you'll never win over Geoffrey's affection. I'm the one with the looks. Mother!"
Dahlia sighed and continued to peel the potatoes piles up in front of her. For as long as she could remember her step-sisters had been obsessed with finding the ideal husband. Now that they were of actual age things had only gotten worse. Anyone with an eligible son suddenly became the family's closest friends and confidants. This of course meant that their was a great increase in the number of house guests and an increased amount of work for Dahlia to do. Tonight she was to create a sumptuous dinner for a close knit circle of eighteen.
For a normal wealthy family this would be of no consequence for the kitchen staff would consist of at least five workers, however Dahlia's stepmother, whom she was told to call Mrs. Haverfield, felt that they were not in need of so many employees and had fired the entire staff. Seeing Dahlia as an expendable member of the family, Mrs. Haverfield had sent her to work in the kitchen. Soon after, the kitchen also became her bedroom. She slept on a pile of straw near the fireplace. Often the drafts in the room would blow the cinders into her face and she was constantly smeared with ash. In fact the only part of her that was even relatively clean were her hands which she washed regularly so as to not dirty her family's food.
She greatly hoped that her step-sisters would marry off soon. She knew that there was no escape from her life but if her load lightened up a little then she might find her living conditions bearable. Who was she kidding? Her life would never lighten up, if she had less food to prepare then her stepmother would merely find other duties for her to perform. No, her sisters would be well married and she would spend the rest of her days wishing she was in their shoes.
She often felt guilty for hating her family so but she couldn't help it. She had not been so young when her father had married Mrs. Haverfield as to not remember the life that had come before she'd arrived. She had been close to her father. They had gone horseback riding almost every afternoon and spent hours upon hours laughing at the most trivial things.
That had changed quite rapidly once she'd gained a new stepmother. Mrs. Haverfield was a devious and controlling woman. She had begun by simply getting Dahlia's father to spend more money on her daughter's then on Dahlia. Dahlia was slightly angered but not to a great extent for she truly cared only for her father's love. After a while her father began to realize that the new Mrs. Haverfield was not at all like his old wife whom he had loved dearly. He sank into a stupor and began to drink heavily. With her husband constantly incapacitated Mrs. Haverfield was given free rein over the household. It was then that she had fired the kitchen staff.
The door upstairs suddenly crashed open. Her father was home. While continuing to peel potatoes, Dahlia listened carefully to her fathers footsteps. They appeared to be coming closer and closer. A thud echoed through the kitchen and Dahlia reluctanly put down the knife and potatoe she was holding. She went to the cupboard and drew out a washing basin and quickly run up the stairs.
As usual her father was lying face down on the floor about three feet from his bed. She placed the basin on the grand and picked her father up. Though he was quite a bit bigger then her small frame she didn't have much trouble for she had built some very strong arm muscles in the past years. She lay him down on the bed, near the side so that if he turned over he could reach the basin. Noticing that his nose was bleeding, she pulled a rag out of her pocket and wiped it off. At least he hadn't broken it again. One would think that a drunk man could pass out on his back once in a while but not him, always face first right
on his nose.
A clock struck three and the chimes echoed ominously through the house. Dahlia cursed silently under her breath and raced downstairs hoping against hope that for once she would be able to complete the task assigned to her.
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"Enid give me my hat back right now. Mother! Oh where the hell is she? Don't think you're going to get away with this! You look horrible in yellow anyway, you'll never win over Geoffrey's affection. I'm the one with the looks. Mother!"
Dahlia sighed and continued to peel the potatoes piles up in front of her. For as long as she could remember her step-sisters had been obsessed with finding the ideal husband. Now that they were of actual age things had only gotten worse. Anyone with an eligible son suddenly became the family's closest friends and confidants. This of course meant that their was a great increase in the number of house guests and an increased amount of work for Dahlia to do. Tonight she was to create a sumptuous dinner for a close knit circle of eighteen.
For a normal wealthy family this would be of no consequence for the kitchen staff would consist of at least five workers, however Dahlia's stepmother, whom she was told to call Mrs. Haverfield, felt that they were not in need of so many employees and had fired the entire staff. Seeing Dahlia as an expendable member of the family, Mrs. Haverfield had sent her to work in the kitchen. Soon after, the kitchen also became her bedroom. She slept on a pile of straw near the fireplace. Often the drafts in the room would blow the cinders into her face and she was constantly smeared with ash. In fact the only part of her that was even relatively clean were her hands which she washed regularly so as to not dirty her family's food.
She greatly hoped that her step-sisters would marry off soon. She knew that there was no escape from her life but if her load lightened up a little then she might find her living conditions bearable. Who was she kidding? Her life would never lighten up, if she had less food to prepare then her stepmother would merely find other duties for her to perform. No, her sisters would be well married and she would spend the rest of her days wishing she was in their shoes.
She often felt guilty for hating her family so but she couldn't help it. She had not been so young when her father had married Mrs. Haverfield as to not remember the life that had come before she'd arrived. She had been close to her father. They had gone horseback riding almost every afternoon and spent hours upon hours laughing at the most trivial things.
That had changed quite rapidly once she'd gained a new stepmother. Mrs. Haverfield was a devious and controlling woman. She had begun by simply getting Dahlia's father to spend more money on her daughter's then on Dahlia. Dahlia was slightly angered but not to a great extent for she truly cared only for her father's love. After a while her father began to realize that the new Mrs. Haverfield was not at all like his old wife whom he had loved dearly. He sank into a stupor and began to drink heavily. With her husband constantly incapacitated Mrs. Haverfield was given free rein over the household. It was then that she had fired the kitchen staff.
The door upstairs suddenly crashed open. Her father was home. While continuing to peel potatoes, Dahlia listened carefully to her fathers footsteps. They appeared to be coming closer and closer. A thud echoed through the kitchen and Dahlia reluctanly put down the knife and potatoe she was holding. She went to the cupboard and drew out a washing basin and quickly run up the stairs.
As usual her father was lying face down on the floor about three feet from his bed. She placed the basin on the grand and picked her father up. Though he was quite a bit bigger then her small frame she didn't have much trouble for she had built some very strong arm muscles in the past years. She lay him down on the bed, near the side so that if he turned over he could reach the basin. Noticing that his nose was bleeding, she pulled a rag out of her pocket and wiped it off. At least he hadn't broken it again. One would think that a drunk man could pass out on his back once in a while but not him, always face first right
on his nose.
A clock struck three and the chimes echoed ominously through the house. Dahlia cursed silently under her breath and raced downstairs hoping against hope that for once she would be able to complete the task assigned to her.