A Little Twist of Fate
Prologue
"Danielle, come here, child, I need to speak with you."
Danielle de Barbarac looked up from her chores. Her stepmother was not in a good mood today, so the little she said, the better. She was trying to remember the last time Rodmilla had been in good mood.
"Wake up, girl, and follow me now."
"Coming, Stepmother " the eight year old called out trailing after her, wondering which room she was in this time. It was never the same room twice and Rodmilla walked quickly, so Danielle was never sure where she was or where she was going.
There had been a meeting every day since her father fell of his horse of a stroke four months ago. Her stepmother had been lecturing her about something or another, mostly how disappointed she was in Danielle and how she had expected so much more from her. After all, Rodmilla had told her time and time again was that the only reason she had married Auguste at all was to get to know Danielle better. Auguste had promised that Danielle would show her "the ropes" so to speak, but this was not to be. Danielle was clumsy, rude, and just downright horrible.
"In here, Danielle," Rodmilla called as Danielle walked by the study. "There is someone that I want you to meet."
Except that when Danielle walked in, the room was empty except for Rodmilla sitting behind what was her father's desk.
"Yes Stepmother," she said, curtseying nervously.
Rodmilla smirked. "Sit down, child. No dawdling."
When Danielle finally took her seat, Rodmilla stood. "Danielle, you have been my biggest disappoint and a thorn in my side ever since your father left me alone in this," she paused and looked around the room before she finished her sentence "tiny little pig sty that you call a manor house."
She looked at Danielle; expecting some kind of reaction, but when she didn't get one, she continued.
"You are nothing, Danielle, compared to my daughters, you are lacking in refinement and tact. You are nothing but a country girl and no matter how much I try to teach you the art of nobility, the less you seem to listen and learn. Therefore, I am sending you to a place where you belong. A place that will show you exactly where you belong in society and, best of all," she said, rising from her chair, "you will no longer be my responsibility."
She waited for Danielle to speak, but she was too shocked and scared to do so.
"Well, then" Rodmilla continued, "if you have nothing more to say, then you are to follow me. There is a carriage waiting for you outside."
Danielle stared at her. "What about my bags, Stepmother. Where am I to sleep? Why are you sending me away from my father's home, the home I love so much?"
"Your bags are all packed and on the carriage. Now get along, my girl and no dawdling."
Rodmilla ushered her toward the carriage and rushed her up the steps. Once Danielle was safely inside, she shut the door and stood there watching as the carriage drove out of sight.
Rodmilla smiled a nasty little smile and turned to enter the house. Auguste's daughter was finally gone and out of her hair. What happened to that little brat now was no longer her concern.
And she intended to keep it that way.
Prologue
"Danielle, come here, child, I need to speak with you."
Danielle de Barbarac looked up from her chores. Her stepmother was not in a good mood today, so the little she said, the better. She was trying to remember the last time Rodmilla had been in good mood.
"Wake up, girl, and follow me now."
"Coming, Stepmother " the eight year old called out trailing after her, wondering which room she was in this time. It was never the same room twice and Rodmilla walked quickly, so Danielle was never sure where she was or where she was going.
There had been a meeting every day since her father fell of his horse of a stroke four months ago. Her stepmother had been lecturing her about something or another, mostly how disappointed she was in Danielle and how she had expected so much more from her. After all, Rodmilla had told her time and time again was that the only reason she had married Auguste at all was to get to know Danielle better. Auguste had promised that Danielle would show her "the ropes" so to speak, but this was not to be. Danielle was clumsy, rude, and just downright horrible.
"In here, Danielle," Rodmilla called as Danielle walked by the study. "There is someone that I want you to meet."
Except that when Danielle walked in, the room was empty except for Rodmilla sitting behind what was her father's desk.
"Yes Stepmother," she said, curtseying nervously.
Rodmilla smirked. "Sit down, child. No dawdling."
When Danielle finally took her seat, Rodmilla stood. "Danielle, you have been my biggest disappoint and a thorn in my side ever since your father left me alone in this," she paused and looked around the room before she finished her sentence "tiny little pig sty that you call a manor house."
She looked at Danielle; expecting some kind of reaction, but when she didn't get one, she continued.
"You are nothing, Danielle, compared to my daughters, you are lacking in refinement and tact. You are nothing but a country girl and no matter how much I try to teach you the art of nobility, the less you seem to listen and learn. Therefore, I am sending you to a place where you belong. A place that will show you exactly where you belong in society and, best of all," she said, rising from her chair, "you will no longer be my responsibility."
She waited for Danielle to speak, but she was too shocked and scared to do so.
"Well, then" Rodmilla continued, "if you have nothing more to say, then you are to follow me. There is a carriage waiting for you outside."
Danielle stared at her. "What about my bags, Stepmother. Where am I to sleep? Why are you sending me away from my father's home, the home I love so much?"
"Your bags are all packed and on the carriage. Now get along, my girl and no dawdling."
Rodmilla ushered her toward the carriage and rushed her up the steps. Once Danielle was safely inside, she shut the door and stood there watching as the carriage drove out of sight.
Rodmilla smiled a nasty little smile and turned to enter the house. Auguste's daughter was finally gone and out of her hair. What happened to that little brat now was no longer her concern.
And she intended to keep it that way.