CHAPTER SEVEN - Roberto

"Are you done yet?" Helen asked wearily, watching Lilia iron her skirts. Ever since her mother had caught her hitting the maid, Helen had to be careful of what she did, as her mother and Mandy seemed to have eyes everywhere.
"In a minute, miss," Lilia murmured. A few moments later, she hung up the six full skirts up in Helen's wardrobe, curtsied, and hurried away with the iron. Helen stared after the maid, scowling. She reminded her so much of Roberto.
Don't think about him! He deserted you for Josephine. He never loved you and he never will. He only loved your money. Helen smiled bitterly and leaned back into the plush armchair, closing her eyes, engulfed by memories.

"Mother, Mother! Mandy is sick and I don't know what to do!" Helen cried, running into the parlor to her mother, wringing her hands in worry.
"Oh, dear. Did she drink the curing soup?" Ella asked.
"Yes, yes, and she fell asleep right away. But…her fore head is all hot and she is turning red as a beet!" Helen said, biting her lip.
"Go and tell your father that we must find another cook until Mandy is well," Ella stated, getting up regally, back straight, shoulders back. "I will check on Mandy and when I return, I expect you to be practicing your dance for the Festival."
"Yes, Mother," Helen nodded, turning to leave. She stopped and turned back to her mother. "Mandy will be all right. I know it." Ella smiled at her daughter's brightness and began her way to the end of the castle, Mandy's room.

"Father! Mother! Charles wrote-" Helen shouted, but abruptly stopped when she spotted the handsome man standing before her parents. Her breath stopped and her cheeks flushed with heat. When the man turned to look at her loud entrance, his sea green eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Helen, dear, this is Roberto of Tyrannia. He will replace Mandy while she is sick," Ella announced.
"How do you do?" Helen murmured, curtsying.
"No need, miss," Roberto said with a smile, brushing his wavy blond hair out of his eyes. The dimple in his cheek deepened as he noticed Helen not meeting his eyes, her cheeks scarlet. He bent at the waist, took Helen's hand, and lightly kissed her wrist.
"I will start with tonight's dinner, Your Highnesses. I beg leave," Roberto bowed deeply before exiting.
"Will he do, Ella?" Char asked.
"Yes. He seems charming and his dishes sounds absolutely marvelous!" Ella said brightly.
"Yes, Father. He will do," Helen murmured, following Roberto with her eyes, even when he disappeared from sight.

"Good evening, miss."
Helen turned around and smiled. Roberto had come behind her, dressed simply in the servant's ball attire. But with his posture and certainty, it seemed as if he was wearing silk instead of simple wool.
"Should you not be heading back inside? It is chilly," Roberto commented.
"It is all right. Father will never notice. He never does," Helen sighed. "He is so much in love with Mother that everything else is nothing to him. I wish I loved someone like that."
"Yes, I too."
"How old are you, Roberto?"
"Twenty years, miss."
"I am thirteen. I will turn fourteen tonight," Helen said, looking up into Roberto's eyes. Unlike before, his eyes were not sparkling with amusement. They were burning with desire. Helen tilted her head back a little more and Roberto leaned down, capturing his lips in hers. Helen closed her eyes for a moment before pulling away.
"I shouldn't."
With those words, she hurried back to the ballroom, cheeks hot.

Few days later, Helen bumped into Roberto once more.
"Helen, why are you avoiding me?" Roberto asked softly.
"I am not."
"Yes you are."
"I am not avoiding you now, am I?" Helen demanded.
"No. Helen, I am in love with you. It has barely been a week, but I have been in love with you the day I arrived. It will make my life complete if you would be my wife," Roberto said, grasping Helen's hands in his.
"Roberto! You cannot be serious," Helen said, eyes wide with shock. "Father has forbidden me to marry until I am sixteen of age. I have not even reached the age of courtship."
"I do not care. I will wait until you are sixteen. I will wait for you forever, if it has to be," Roberto said sincerely.
"You will?" Helen smiled. "You are so sweet and generous, giving up what you want so to be with me."
"Anything for you," Roberto murmured, slipping a finger beneath Helen's chin and raising her chin until their lips met.

"Roberto, you said you would wait for me!" Helen wailed.
"You are too young for him," Josephine said coldly. She was the sister of Christine, the kitchen maid. Helen had thought her kind, but now Josephine was anything but. She had her arm wrapped around Roberto's waist possessively, eyes narrowed into a glare.
"Roberto?" Helen whispered.
"I promised no such thing. Why would I when I have what I want? You are nothing but a child!" Roberto said scornfully, looking down in disdain at Helen.
"He wants nothing to do with you. You are a noble, ready to punish him for anything. He has decided that if you pay us enough, we will never tell Prince Char and Princess Ella about your imaginings with Roberto," Josephine sniffed. Tears bubbled up in Helen's eyes and she fled, tears streaming down her cheeks.

I will never trust a servant again! I will never let my guard down or show sympathy to any servant. Helen thought viciously as she raced to her rooms, her mind replaying when she spotted Roberto and Josephine embracing each other, whispering and kissing.

Helen slowly opened her eyes and to her surprise, a lone tear traveled down her cheek, splashing her hand softly. It had seemed like a nightmare when Lilia had come, resembling Roberto so much. Helen could do nothing but scheme of one day getting rid of Lilia, so Charles would not get hurt. And now, everything was ruined. Her mother was against her, believing servants could love nobles and live happily ever after. Charles wasn't around that much to convince him of Lilia's obvious plan. Her father believed nothing was wrong. And Lady Justina was in tears, heartbroken over Lilia's selfishness.
"I will get rid of Lilia. I promise that," Helen said angrily, clenching her hand into a fist. "Nothing will stop me of doing that. Nothing."