Chapter Two
I sat up, startled, on a small cot in a large pale yellow room. Where am I? The room was lined with about twenty small cots, dressed just like mine. Each bed had two fluffy white pillows and a white blanket. The room looked like some sort of dormitory.
I lay in the bed, pondering my thoughts, when the room's doors flew open, and a mob of boys flooded in, shouting and jumping, creating useless noise. They looked to be a variety of ages, probably from ten, to some boys who looked to be my age.
One of them glanced my way, and did a double take when he saw me sitting up in bed.
"Hey! She's awake!" he called to the rest of the boys. There was an awkward silence as they all turned to peer at me, and then stampeded over, surrounding my bed and bombarding me with questions.
"What's your name?"
"Why were you dressed like a boy?"
"What happened to you family?"
"Hey, hey now- let her adjust lads!" someone called. "She just woke up!" I looked up and saw that street boy, Jerrold, struggling through the crowd of boys.
I scowl crossed me face as he shooed the boys away. Him again! Lord above!
"Why am I here?" I said angrily, once he'd sat on my bed. "In fact, what is here?"
"This is my home," Jerrold said oddly, ignoring my rude tone. "I brought you here when you passed out. That was quite a fall," he said.
"You saw me?" I asked.
He nodded. "I caught you," he said.
"Why were you at my house?" I yelled.
He grinned. "I wanted to see where you lived- who you really were. You're lucky I was there. That fall would've killed you," he said seriously. "So you can't be mad at me."
I let out a frustrated, muffled scream. Who did this irritating boy think he was?
"So what is this place?" I asked, trying to calm myself down and change the subject.
"This is the home of every revolutionary thinker in Jenn," Jerrold said.
I raised an eyebrow. He sighed.
"Okay, not every revolutionary thinker. This is the bedroom of twenty boys. The boys who live in this room run messages for the revolutionary cause. They take notes and messages from any man devoted to the revolution and bring them to the receiver," Jerrold explained.
"Thank you for the definition of a messenger," I said sarcastically.
Jerrold laughed. "Touché. But I wasn't finished," he said. "The idea is, the boys who live here, "running boys" as they're called, are common looking. No one wants to intercept the message, because no one wants to associate with street rats."
I nodded. "That's a good idea." I paused, thinking. "But what of the boy's families? Don't they all have their own homes?"
Jerrold shook his head. "Almost every boy here is an orphan. This is their home; this is their family," he said. "My family."
"What of your parents?" I asked.
Jerrold's gray eyes suddenly lost their warm glow. "My parents don't hate me, but I hate them. I couldn't except their lifestyle and ideas when they tried to force them on me. I ran away. They're dead to me," he said coldly.
I could see that the subject made him uncomfortable, so I changed the subject once again.
"So who's manor is this? Who takes care of all of you?" I inquired.
"Miss Iris owns the house. Her parents died when she was young, leaving her the manor and surrounding land. She feels for orphans, and allows us to live here. She supports the revolution as well. Iris, as well as her numerous servants, take care of all of us," Jerrold explained.
"And she has no husband?" I said gleefully. Finally! A woman who can stand on her own two feet!
Jerrold shook her head. "Oh no, she does," he replied, smiling at my fallen face. "He's one of the leaders of the revolution. His name is Sir Roan of Jenn, the man you where to deliver the message to."
My eyes widened, and I fumbled with the blanket. I have to leave. This is Roan's house!
"Well, um, thank you for your hospitality Jerrold," I said abruptly, standing up. "I must be going." I looked down at myself, expecting to see my boys clothes. Instead I was in a white nightdress.
"What am I doing in this ridiculous frock?" I demanded. "Who put me in this? Where are my clothes?"
Jerrold looked surprised at my outburst. "Your clothing is being cleaned, it'll be ready after breakfast. Miss Iris put you in the shift because Roan told her to," he said.
"Roan?" I cried. "Roan saw me?"
Jerrold nodded. "Oh yes. He said to fetch him when you awoke, because he needed to speak with you," he replied, taking my hand. "Let's go meet him before breakfast."
I pulled my hand away. "I can't," I said quickly.
"Why not?" said Jerrold, looking at me queerly.
"Because… because," I stuttered. "Because I know Roan."
Jerrold looked stunned. "How?" he asked.
I swallowed. "Until I was eleven years old, I saw him everyday of my life. He was one of my favorite people in the entire world," I spilled, my eyes watering.
"Was he your betrothed?" Jerrold asked quietly.
I shook my head violently. "Good lord, no," I said. "He-he was my brother. My parents hated him, and he left the house when he was sixteen. Until that man asked my to deliver that message to him, I thought Roan was dead."
Silent tears were streaming down my face, but I wiped them away quickly. I hated girls who cried about anything and everything.
"My parents imposed such tyranny on him, and for no reason. He hated our entire family. When he left, they adopted me as their new least-favorite child. I hate them the way he did; they hate me the way he did. Somehow, I always felt a connection with Roan. Maybe it's because he was the only member of my family I truly liked… I don't know," I said, sniffing quickly.
"Then why not meet him?" asked Jerrold.
I frowned. "Haven't you been listening? Roan hates his family- including me," I said angrily.
Jerrold shrugged. "Perhaps. But you didn't se his face when he saw the lashes on your back. He was… furious," he retorted.
I rolled my eyes. "I doubt it," I said rudely.
"Well, an order's an order. You're meeting him," Jerrold said simply.
I threw my head on the pillow and screamed, frustrated.
~*~
Fifteen minutes later, I found myself sitting at the end of a long, wooden table, lined with empty chairs, in a small room. Bookshelves lined three of the walls, their books lined up neatly. Sun streamed in through the window. How can it be such a nice day when I'm so miserable?
Jerrold had showed me the room, and opened the door for me. When I bade him to come in, he refused.
"This is your personal business, Daria. I shan't have anything to do with it," he said solemnly.
"Fine," I said angrily. How dare he just abandon me? He thinks he's so noble!
As I sat in the room, stirring in my own thoughts, I began to wonder what Roan would say to me. Would he embrace me and care for me like his daughter? Would he disregard me? Would I be sent back to Mama and Papa?
The sound of the door opening interrupted my thoughts. I turned around to see my brother, the one I hadn't seen in five years. He looked older, smarter. Better. He was tall and lanky, somewhat muscular, and his face had lines of seriousness etched into in already, even though he was just twenty-one. His hair was a dark brown in comparison to my blonde, but he had my blue eyes and strong chin.
He walked slowly around the table and settled himself in the seat across from mine.
"Daria," he said apprehensively.
"Roan," I said. It almost sounded like a question. The name sounded foreign coming from my mouth.
"When Jerrold showed me the girl he said he had 'saved', I was shocked to see it was you," Roan began. His voice was solid and smooth. "Imagine my surprise. My sister, who I'd hadn't seen in over five years, laying in my house with lashes down her back and a bruise across her face."
I touched my cheek tenderly. I'd forgotten that Cyrus had hit me.
"I assume the whipping was from Papa?" he said.
I nodded.
"Which brute slapped you?" he asked roughly.
"Cyrus," I whispered.
He nodded. "I thought as much," he said. "At first, I was furious. One of my family had discovered me, infiltrated my life. But then I considered the circumstances. You'd obviously had a row with them, and lost. I'd known that feeling, and I realized you probably wouldn't be reporting back to Mama and Papa about their hated child."
I shook my head. "I'd never do that," I said softly, but firmly.
Roan nodded. "Which is why I've taken the liberty of writing to Papa and Mama, saying I'll be taking care of you from now on," he said.
"What?" I cried. "You? But- how?"
"I'm the lord of this manor Daria," said Roan, his arms extended. "I can afford you."
"That's not what I meant," I replied. "Are you sure you want me?"
Roan laughed. It was a happy, good natured laugh that erupted from his stomach and through his throat.
"Yes, Daria Elise. I'm sure," he said.
"All right," I said uncertainly.
"Now," Roan said, "you must come to breakfast. I have news for everyone."