Disclaimer: None of the characters that you can recognize in my story actually belong to me (no, REALLY!) They're all Meggie's. Don't look so disappointed…
Dedication: This one is for you, Chabanabam! Hope your dance show went well! And Yabanabi! I love you! You're the best!
A/N: Hey! It's me again! Thanks to the 7 people who reviewed, you really are the best. I was practically floating...
Ok, on with the show.
And with out further ado…
I stood meekly by the side of the carriage while the driver began taking out our bags and walked into a large brick and wood townhouse in a slightly richer part of town.
Mother looked me once over, then hurried me to the front door (the driver had assured us he would take our bags up to our room) and swung the bronze knocker.
'Remember now, Susannah,' my mother had said before we left my old home, my old life.
'We are still new in their home, which they have so graciously welcomed us in, especially Mikey darling. We must make a good impression. Don't come tearing into the house, don't slurp your soup, allow them to borrow your things if they wish because no matter what we can never thank them enough for allowing us to move into their lives.' I felt like puking.
MIKEY DARLING!
And what about our lives that were becoming affected? Didn't I matter anymore?
I listened to her drone on.
She never used to be like this, never so submissive, never caring what other thought of her.
She was my inspiration, my role model.
How had this one man given her some silly notion that she was in love?
That she could change her life for one man, do as he wished and become a servant in her own home?
My thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Michael stood before us, dressed as though he was going to the church or something.
Today isn't even Sunday.
He was a tall man, so tall I actually had to crane my neck. He had startling blue eyes, and seemed cold and hard to me.
I told myself being ridiculous, that I was just seeing him the way I wanted to and really should make an effort to ignore the determined jut of his chin, of his harsh features…
Oh, what did Mother see in this-…this….stranger?
'Welcome, Helen, darling! At last! And Susannah! Your ride was not too long and uncomfortable, I trust?'
He inquired with false concern plastered over his stupid handsome face….
No, BAD SUSANNAH! I really have to try and get a positive out look on life…
He led us into the elaborately furnished sitting room, where a young man sitting in an armchair promptly stood up, to show courtesy to us.
I was so caught up staring at him, probably the oldest son, that I barely noticed the two….well, people, I guess you could call them, sitting on the plush couch beside the fireplace.
It really wasn't my fault.
Any girl could sympathize with me; you would have to abnormal if you didn't stare at the young man whom I supposed could only be Paul Slater, the eldest son in the family.
He was the spitting image of his father, but much better looking, of course.
I don't know what came over me; I don't usually interact much with boys (unless you count punching a boy when I was 10 years old where it hurt the most…don't ask, looong story)…but for some weird reason I felt all giggly and girlish.
'My pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Susannah,' Paul looked at me with piercing blue eyes.
I began to feel uncomfortable; he eyes were looking me up and down, pausing at certain areas…
His hair was slightly damp, as if he had just had a wash.
I immediately tried to stop thinking about him having a bath.
Oh. My. God. I did NOT just think that…
What is HAPPENING to me!
I do not just swoon at strange men, especially ones I have just met, even though some times they look like their chest might be very, very toned beneath crisp white shirts…
I wrenched my gaze from Paul who was chatting to Mother about something, and Michael was chuckling.
I sat down when he motioned me to sit on the chair beside the twin sisters.
I turned to look at them, and putting on my brightest, fakest smile, I greeted them.
Ugh I CANNOT believe these girls are going to be, however indirectly, related to me.
They may have been twins, but if I hadn't known from the start, I would have never guessed it.
One was thin, thin as a stick, while the other was pudgy.
They shared the same wide set, watery blue eyes, so unlike Paul's sharp ones.
They were dressed absolutely ridiculously, in lace and frill and bows from top to bottom.
Now, I don't exactly have much expertise with expensive clothes and exotic materials, but I do have a pretty decent sense of color and what matches with what.
Right now it was screaming at me no, No, NO!
The thin one wore a tight maroon dress that had a stiff collar, accentuating her thinness. Yellow bows adorned the hem and sleeves, and even the neckline!
Her twin's dress clashed with hers, a deep, dull rust orange with yellow ribbons and lace in the most inappropriate places.
Oh, horror….I would rather die and then accept any help from their wardrobes. I'm perfectly happy with my simple, comfortable dresses….
'Hello, Susannah, it is?' The thin one inquired in a nasal voice.
'Yes and your name is…?
'Bridget and this is Stella,' she motioned to her sister who just smirked.
Stella was actually quite pretty, even though she was pudgy and chubby.
Correction: she might have been pretty if she wasn't smirking at me, as though saying hello to her new step-sister was beneath her.
Bridget gave me a haughty smile and literally simpered,' So, Susannah, do tell us, is it true you used to live in Carmel? We've heard so much about the countryside, about how the girls get the latest fashions,' here she paused dramatically, 'a whole month later, and how everyone cleans their own animals…'She trailed off and look at me for my reaction.
I was absolutely furious, of course; and disgusted, too. Some way to treat your new step-sister!
I narrowed my eyes. Two can play this game.
'Oh, the rumors are true,' I assured, 'now you tell me, is it true that a city girl's only goal in life is to get married and wear pretty clothes?' I lowered my voice, 'And it must be absolutely dreadful, for I heard,' I gulped dramatically, 'that the most desirable husband of all, the charming Prince Jesse, is holding a dance in two months, for him to pick and choose his wife to wed, like a farmer picking an animal for sale! Oh you poor things,' I sighed dramatically
Stella was slowly turning redder, but I was sure she was too thick to string 2 words of insult together.
'How dare you, you stupid, simple girl,' Bridget hissed venomously, outraged.
I smiled smugly. I knew at that moment that we would never be friends, it felt good to know in clear words that they despised me as much as I them.
Self-satisfied, I ignored the pinch of guilt I felt.
I was supposed to try and make this work, for Mother's sake.
But it was too late, the damage was done. That small conversation had proved to me that we would never be friends.
Oh no, no late night girly chats for us.
This was war.
Our delightful, sister-bonding time (not) was interrupted when Mother said, 'Dears, I'm absolutely thrilled you all getting along so fine, but its time for dinner now,' She looked at Stella's red face, to Bridget's vicious expression, and my smug one.
She didn't notice a single thing out of ordinary.
We sat at the dinner table, Michael at the head with Mother at the side and Paul opposite her. I sat next to Mother, with the twins in front of me.
We ate in silence, the twins occasionally shooting glares at me, but I ignored them. Instead, I furtively stole glances at Paul. He had left us in the sitting room after saying hello.
I felt slightly uneasy around him; he would be the first boy whom I would be living with in such close quarters. Suddenly, our dinner was interrupted by urgent knocking on the oaken doors of the room.
'Enter' Michael said imperiously.
A small messenger boy hopped in and handed Micheal a slip of parchment. He bowed and left.
'I think it's time you deal with these tedious interruptions, son,' he addressed Paul, 'after all, soon the business will be yours, and instead of me, you will take the place of the Work Regulations Officer', he said benevolently.
'Of course, father,' Paul said coolly. He was so alert to everything; his eyes kept moving side to side, calculating, measuring.
He deftly opened the message and read it out loud so his father would hear.
'My lord, I have bad news. The new work regulations posted by you were not taken well. The worker in the factories in Strineton have revolted, reinforcements were sent immeadiately. Something must be done, lest the King catch wind of this turn in the fates. Best, Faotrin'
Paul finished reading looking grim.
Mother said, 'Oh Michael, it's nothing to worry about is it? Dearest, tell me what the newest regulations were.' Michael looked annoyed; probably because he wanted to make a good impression on Mother by letting her think everything was under control.
'Truly, it is nothing to worry about, my love,' he said smoothly, 'the regulations were longer working hours for the same pay, which seems pretty fair to me, considering their pay was quite a lot to begin with. Don't you think so, m'dear?'
'Well…I don't know…how much is a worker's daily pay? And what type of factory is it?' She looked uncertain; she was torn between wanting to please her new husband and voicing her opinions.
'They get 9 krunts a week…they work in a lumber mill,' Michael looked slightly uncomfortable now.
Mother said nothing.
I was furious.
The lumber mill industry was one of the largest exports in the country it was back-breaking work.
(A/N: To explain the value of a krunt, the currency used in Larosse, think of it as half of an American Dollar, 50 cents)
Before I could help myself, I burst out.
'1 KRUNT! Per week! That's outrageous! Don't you think that working for longer hours in the hot sun chopping wood, or sawing, or flattening wood for boards isn't hard enough without you increasing the hours! Why should th-'
'Enough.' Paul cut in, menacingly.
'What do you know about politics and export? If they don't produce more in Damascus, our largest city with a port, how will our trade system work? And have you even stopped to think about the fact that they get THREE fifteen minute breaks? This is the largest lumber mill factory in the kingdom, and yet they still don't produce more then other kingdoms across the sea!' He was getting all flustered up but by then I didn't care.
Seriously, what was the world coming to?
Did our beloved Prince Jesse, who was taking care of the matters of the kingdom while his father was manning in the war overseas know about this? Didn't he even have control of his own kingdom?
'You have no right to make poor men poor, to make them slog longer hours. Does the Prince know about this?'
'It's no concern of mine if His Majesty the King has left the running of the kingdom in incompetent hands. Its Jesse's own fault if he hasn't kept track of the going ons in his own kingdom,' Said Paul nastily.
By now we both were fuming and glaring at each other. My knuckles had turned white from gripping the tablecloth so tightly.
The rest of the table was quite; the twins were smirking at me, and Mother was regarding me with something that looked like horror.
I couldn't tell what Michael was thinking; his face had remained blank throughout the whole argument and had no move to break us up.
'Susannah, Paul, please don't argue anymore. Let us enjoy the rest of our meal in peace. You both have good views. Paul, meet with me in the study after dinner. We really must discuss this further.' Michael said pleasantly but with finality. The matter was closed.
But I didn't forget.
The rest of my dinner progressed with incident, and I managed to forget my anger and laughed at Michael and even Paul's jokes.
They really were quite charming; Paul pretended that nothing had happened, even though I caught him staring curiously at me a few times.
I went to bed early claiming I was tired. I thought back to the dinner table scene and realized that the twins had barely spoken all dinner.
Either they were too busy stuffing their faces or they felt dominated by the presence of their father.
Interesting…
The last thing I thought before I fell asleep was that I was going to have to be on my guard here.
Which was strange, since whoever thought of feeling unsecure in their own family?
A/N: I now know how it truly feels for some of the authors when like they get 50 hits and only 7 reviews. IT'S SO ANNOYING!
I know many people just can't be bothered; but I beg of you, please, PLEASE review.
I can't make my story better if I don't know what's wrong in the first place, right?
To the 7 people who did review, thank you…it's silly but those 7 reviews really made my day…
Whether you review or not, I hope you enjoyed...
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Next chappy already under-construction!