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CHAPTER 5
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LETTERS AND LUCK
(OR LACK THEREOF)
PART ONE OF OUR HERIONE'S MINI-ADVENTURE
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A/N: I had big plans of updating multiple times over the holiday break, but, well, I admit that I felt more like sleeping every day away than writing. I wrote this on one of my last days of vacation, and I didn't get to finish it until today. I hope you enjoy, and please review!
P.S.- Prince Drago (whom you'll soon meet) might sound vaguely like a character most of you know, mostly because the names have the same meanings and I've likened the personality. (I don't own Harry Potter, just for the record.)
P.S.S- There's a little bit of cussing, so I just wanted to warn everyone because that offends some people.
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"Guess what I've just heard in the town, Mistress!" Tata scurried excitedly through the house. I looked up from my embroidery. I was almost finished with the piece, which was of a garden overflowing with flowers. I had started it about two years ago, but my negligence had prolonged the length of time it had taken. I didn't hate embroidery; I just got frustrated with how long it took to complete one flower.
"What? Is it exciting, will I be able to guess it?" I set down my embroidery. For the past two and a half weeks (ever since the book incident), I had patiently hunched over my embroidery, pulling multi-colored stitches through the creamy white fabric.
She fluttered over to me and sat next to me elatedly.
"Guess!" Tata insisted, "I'm sure it will be easy."
"The people Edward sold my books to were selling them in the market? And you bought some back?" I clasped my hands hopefully.
"Not that. Almost as good, if not better! Guess again, Mistress, guess again!"
I shrugged. "I don't know… my uncle was killed by unknown assassins when he went into town today?"
She shook her head profusely. "No where close. I'll tell you. I was in the market, because Ollo sent me to get him some more flour. Then I saw the cook from the palace. There, you must be able to guess now!"
"The king gave a royal decree saying that my uncle is forever banished from the kingdom?"
Tata frowned. "Think you're clever, eh? Well, then, I'll ruin the surprise. Your prince is back! Jerrold has arrived back home!" She watched my face expectantly.
"Really? Wow! How long has he been home? You'd think he'd have the decency to tell me that he got back! Oh, my pri—Tata! He's not my prince. How embarrassing! I can't believe you'd say such a thing!" I felt my cheeks burn.
"Oh, Mistress, settle down. I didn't mean it that way. Look how red you are! Oh my…."
"How long has he been back?" I repeated, annoyed and discomfited.
Tata furrowed her brow. "From the way she said it, it seems like he's been back for a few days, if not a week already. There was a party and everything on the day after his arrival."
I gave her a surprised look. A party? It wasn't like I enjoyed standing around with a bunch of boring people in some stupid itchy dress, but the fact that I hadn't been invited was what bothered me.
"And I wasn't invited? I wonder why. Do you think he's mad at me for some reason? I don't know why he would be. I mean, I would have written him, but it's hard to know exactly where one goes on such an expedition. Why do you think he's angry?"
Tata patted my hand. "You worry so, Rosalie. Why, I'm sure that it was some sort of misunderstanding of sorts. You mustn't get so hurt over these things."
"I'm not hurt. I was just wondering." I shrugged and folded my embroidery up. "I suppose I should go see him, huh? See what happened. I'm sure you're right. It was probably just some sort of, um, misunderstanding. I guess…"
Tata sighed, taking my embroidery in her hands. "You were so close Mistress; so close to completing it. Now you never shall, what with the prince back in the city."
"I'm very sorry, Tata, but I think seeing my best friend is more important than pulling thread through some piece of cloth," I replied seriously.
"Yes, yes. Well, I'll run and get your cloak. It's getting awfully nippy. I think it'll snow by tomorrow; I can feel it in my bones. I just can't wait until spring comes. I hate the winter." She clambered down the stairs and I followed.
"My, my, my, Tata! Aren't we such a vulgar lady? Hate is such a strong word! What would your mother say?" I laughed at the expression on her face.
"Oh, Mistress, bite your tongue! You've no idea how I'd like to give you a smart slap right across that pretty face of yours!" she replied, retrieving my thick winter cloak from the closet under the stairs.
I eased on the warm woolen cloak and put up my hood.
"I'll see you later Tata! I promise I'll be home by 5:00 for dinner, okay?" I hugged her and gave her a small peck on the top of her head.
She muttered something under her breath, but I saw a smile form on her face as I walked out the door.
It was a whole lot colder than it had been the previous days. The sky was grayer and the sun was hidden from sight. I hurried to the stables where Kummeck, my wildly insane stallion stood in his stall, pacing back and forth. He was always like that, anticipating the moment when he could ride free. I almost felt bad for the horse, for even riding him around our many acres of grounds would not quench his thirst for adventure.
Bryant, the groom, saddled him (or attempted to saddle him). Actually, it took both of us to buckle the saddle on, and even with the two of us it took about an hour to do so. Then, to make matters even worse, I actually had to get on the horse. I stood on the mounting block as Bryant attempted to settle Kummeck down. It turned out that I had to jump with my stomach sideways over the saddle, as Bryant attempted to help me get my leg over the side. He (Bryant) eventually fell down, clutching his stomach as he laughed hysterically at me. So much for the help! When I finally did get my leg over the side of the excited horse, I could barely get control, so we bucked for a while until I could settle him.
We then, of course, rode through the streets of Frell. Some of the characters you see in the streets are hilarious. There's always that one middle-aged woman who has to keep haggling, even when the price is just right, and the stubborn vender who will never give in. Thinking on it always gave me amusement.
I wanted to browse through some of the books I saw on one vender's cart, but I refrained from stopping in fear that if I dismounted Kummeck, I'd never be able to get back on. So, instead, I settled for glancing longingly at all the venders who had books on their cart. Some had many, and some little. Either way, I longed to have them all so my bare library would have some life in it once again.
When I finally arrived at the palace, it must have been at least 3:00. I had spent much more time than I'd wanted in town, but there was still time enough to catch up with Jerrold. And if I were to happen to lose track of time, I'm sure Tata wouldn't have minded. I rode through the castle gates, waving to the guards whom I'd known since I'd first become friends with Jerrold.
I rode around the castle grounds in search of him. There was a chance he could have been inside, but Jerrold was more of an outdoors person than I was. At any chance, Jerrold would spend his time doing archery with his brother or riding horses. He had a real fascination for animals, so I was sure to check the Royal Menagerie for him.
He wasn't there, though. Jerrold wasn't anywhere. I was about to seek out the Queen and King, before I saw Prince Drago, Jerrold's sixteen-year-old brother. He was practicing archery in courtyard outside the palace. Ever the ladies man, several young lasses of nobility were watching, giggling when he shot the arrow anywhere remotely close to the bulls-eye. Could someone gag me, please?
Perhaps Prince Drago wasn't all that bad, but I had a sort of dislike for him. We had never gotten along, even though our ages were the same. That was probably because he had refused to share a tutor with his brother and I, demanding that he wouldn't get enough personal attention. Drago's humor was dry and he was always drawling or smirking. Sure, he was handsome; very handsome, but I never found him attractive as a person. It was easy to compare Jerrold and Drago, for one brother was sunny and kind while the other was cold and ironic.
I nudged my horse in his direction, rolling my eyes as one of the girls attached herself to Drago's arm as the others watched her enviously. How could they be so simple-minded? That's how many girls were in my time. They thought only of securing a good husband; nothing of improving their knowledge or falling in love. It was of no use to feel sorry for them for they seemed happy living in their world of ignorance. I suppose the reason I had few female friends, and none of nobility, was because I couldn't handle their shallow conversation without a roll of my eyes or a half-concealed laugh. They might not have been the smartest people, but they knew when they were being mocked.
"Drago, can you pry the poor girl off your arm long for me to ask you something?" I said, bracing myself to dismount the horse. I, amazingly, managed to get off the horse without injuring myself in any way.
Drago rolled his gray eyes, which looked quite similar to my uncle's, to be truthful.
"Elise, would you excuse me? She wants to talk to me," Drago said, giving 'Elise' a pat on the arm.
She giggled and blew him a kiss, batting her eyelashes. I watched her scurry to her friends, who were seemingly gushing.
"She's cute, Drago. Where'd you get her?" I asked, smiling dryly.
"Looking for your husband, eh? He's been sulking for days, apparently. Seems his lady love has been ignoring his letters."
So things were between Drago and I. I would liken his admirers to pets and he'd liken Jerrold and I to a married couple. I, for one, took no offense, and I doubt he did either.
"Huh? What do you mean 'his lady love'? Does he fancy anyone?"
He gave a roll of his eyes. "You, ignoramus! Sheesh, have you not a clue? Didn't you receive any of his letters? He's been bedridden for about a week, ever since he's gotten home. Sat in his room for his own stinkin' homecoming party. Well, at least he was bedridden. Left for the old palace early this morning. He's finally well enough to leave the house, thank goodness. It was only tuberculosis or influenza… something of the sort."
The off-handed way he said it irked me greatly. "Do you have any idea how serious tuberculosis is? He'll die Drago; die! I doubt even you could act so nonchalant when you say news as bad as that!"
He smirked. "Oh yes. I forgot. It was influenza, definitely influenza. I think there was a severe upper respiratory infection in there too. He had a wicked fever and was throwing up all last week."
I stared at him dumbly for a second, and then forced back my worries long enough to scold him, "And you just happened to forget that? You're more nefarious than I thought. I don't know what happened though. He was ill and he used his energy to write to me? And I didn't get any of his letters?"
Drago shrugged, a smile curling at the ends of his lips. "He's heart-broken. You've quite discouraged him. His best friend cares not for him, or so he thinks."
"You're awful Drago!" I reproached, biting back hard on my anger. I didn't want to think of exactly whose fault it was I hadn't received Jerrold's letters. All that mattered was finding him.
He shrugged again and sent Elise a smile and a wink. "Do you think you could excuse us, Rosalie? I was having a good time before you showed up."
"Yeah, sure. Have fun, highness," I muttered, leading Kummeck back to the castle gates.
I remounted Kummeck, unfalteringly, and kicked his side. I felt guilty, to be sure, though I knew I had no need. It wasn't my fault I'd not received Jerrold's letters. I had no doubt my uncle had a hand in this. You'd think removing my one connection with my parents (my books) would be enough, but no, he had to attempt to ruin one of my few friendships! I hated him with such intensity it was hard to find the words with which to describe it.
My mother had always (if I was ever extremely angry with a person) told me that I should never say I hated them. It was different with my uncle though. It wasn't a petty dislike I had for him; it was more of a vast loathing. I clasped the reins of the horse angrily, my knuckles white with the rigidity with which I held them. I wanted to cry, but I was coming to the point where I knew tears did nothing. They didn't help any situation at all, and tears only made me weak. The last thing I needed my uncle to know was to know how hurt I was after his offenses against me.
It was beginning to flurry down on Frell by the time the old palace was visible. I shivered in the cold blustering winds and wished to be warm. However, I had no wish to wander into one of the warm shops on the side of the cobbled street. I was determined to get to Jerrold and to explain the whole situation to him. I hoped desperately that he wouldn't be angry.
Upon arrival, I climbed up the front steps, which, by each month, seemed more and more ancient. I suppose as I grew, I was becoming more observant than I had been previously. There were only two guards on duty during the days when no parties were taking place, and since I seemed of no threat to the old castle, I was let in without question.
"Jerrold?" I called desperately, "Jerrold, where are you?" I ascended yet another stairwell inside the castle. Icy air seemed to radiate from the stone floors and my feet, though well covered, began to feel frozen. I had no idea why Jerrold would risk his health to come out in the freezing cold. Influenza and an upper respiratory infection?
I spun around anxiously, and to my surprise, Jerrold was sitting on the sill of the large window that was at the top of the stairs. It was wide enough for one to sit on easily, and Jerrold was reclined with his back leaning on the side. His vibrant green eyes were darker than usual with large dark circles underneath. He didn't look 17 anymore; no, it seemed that about a month had changed him into a man much older than his true age. I couldn't be sure if he'd seen me or not because he looked like he was in a trance. Suddenly, he started coughing, and it shook his body violently. I stared at him a moment, unsure of whether that sickly, older looking man was my best friend or not. Not that I was going to waste any time thinking of that.
"Jerrold! Are you insane? You'll kill yourself, I swear!" I whipped off my cloak with no thought of how freezing I'd become and draped it over his shoulders.
He shrugged it off without looking at me. "Hah. Like you care?"
I felt like I'd been slapped. So much for him not being angry… I picked up the cloak and dusted it off.
"Jerrold, I don't blame you for being angry, but really, I don't think saving your pride is worth risking your life. Take it," I begged softly.
"Damn it, Rosalie, keep your stupid cloak! I'm not cold, and if I were, I'd sure as hell not take your cloak," he snapped.
He'd never sworn at me. Ever. I don't think I'd ever heard him swear to anyone. If I'd felt like I was slapped before, I felt like I'd been battered now.
"Jerrold, please! I'm sorry. I didn't get your letters. Yes, I know that's an awful excuse, but it's the truth. I don't know what happened; please try to understand! I didn't even know you'd written me until I saw your brother this afternoon. I didn't even know you were back until this morning. You know I wouldn't neglect you. You're my best friend, Jerrold! I care about you more than anyone else in the world." I reached for his shoulder, begging with both my words and actions for his forgiveness. I reached for his shoulder, but he batted it away.
"It's a one-sided feeling, you can be assured," he rebutted vehemently. He looked at me now, and the look in his eyes were so hard to decipher I found myself leaning in for a closer look. Something about them exuded hated, yet, underneath I saw the pain in his eyes. I'd hurt him. I wanted desperately to hug him, but I knew there was no chance that that would ever happen.
"It must have been my uncle. You'd think after so many years of being friends that you'd trust me a little more! I can't help my uncle's actions, Jerrold," I replied, instantly hating how forcefully I'd said it.
"You blame everything on him. He didn't kill your mother, Rosalie. Get over it. You can only get all weepy and feel sorry for yourself for so long. It's over. She's dead. She's not coming back anytime soon, so…" He stopped there, and his eyes grew wide as his eyes turned to me, as if he were just realizing what he was telling me.
Every breath became increasingly shallow and I felt like I was about to burst from all the anger, hatred, and sadness coursing through me. He hadn't meant a word of it; I knew as much. Then why did it hurt so much? I stared at him for a moment before I began to tremble. Everything and anything my uncle could have said or done never would have prepared me for what he'd said. I loved him as truly and dearly as one friend could ever love another. I wanted his opinion on every single thing I did. I would trust him with my life, undoubtedly; and probably, if the situation ever came, give up my life for him. His subsistence was so much more important than my baneful existence.
I knew why it hurt. He was everything to me now. Mother was gone, and Father had been for many years. I had Tata, but that wasn't the same thing. While she was warming up to me considerably, she couldn't possibly fill the places of both Mother and Jerrold. He was my only friend for so much of my life that I was lost without him. He stood next to me, yet it seemed we were worlds apart.
I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry if that's how you feel. Goodbye, highness." I gave a curtsy and re-fastened my cloak around me and descended the stairs.
"Rosalie…" His voice was husky.
I wanted to turn around, but streams of salty tears were running down my face. He couldn't see how he'd hurt me. I didn't want him to think me 'weepy' and weak. Instead, I ran down the stairs and darted out the door, trying to choke back all and any signs of tears. I hurried to Kummeck, who was tied to a fence and buried my face in his mane.
"I hate him, Kummeck," I confessed, "He's ruined everything! Why did he have to ruin everything? He took my books; he's ruined my friendship. I want him dead. Will he not just die? I hate him so… Why did Mother have to die and leave me with him? I hate her too! I hate everyone and everything in this horrible world! I'm the most unlucky person in the world, to be sure."
Kummeck pranced in place, taking little interest in my revulsion with the world. I mounted him again and headed towards home. My uncle was going to get an earful, to be sure.
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I sulked into the front door of our manor, feeling some emotion between sadness and hatred, for more than one person. I'd thought everything over as I rode home, and still, I couldn't understand why Jerrold was so angry with me, or why he had any right to say what he had. I'd hurt him, I knew as much and I wanted more than anything to repent, but I hardly felt that I should apologize after he'd said… well, that to me.
Still, while I felt I was not in the wrong, something about that look on his face stung me. I felt a tremble in me whenever I thought about it. I tried to rationalize it within my head that I was only shivering, but, for obvious reasons, that wouldn't account for the tears that started up every once in a while.
I pulled open the door, the metal handle extremely cold on my frozen fingers.
"Ah, Rosalie, there you are!" Tata exclaimed, bustling down the stairs. "How- why child, your as pale as a ghost! My, you look like you saw a ghost. Whatever is wrong?"
I looked down at my hands as I fiddled with the dirt underneath my fingernails. "Nothing. Nothing happened. No ghosts involved. Truthfully."
"Hmmm, does the truthfully apply to the 'nothing happened' or the ghosts? Because I know for a fact something must have." She touched my cheek, before retreating her hand.
"Your as cold as ice, Mistress!" She took my hand in hers and tugged me towards the sitting room where a fire was blazing. "Warm yourself before you die of pneumonia!"
I savored the heat that radiated from the oak fireplace, but stepped back, remembering what I'd come here to do.
"Where's Edward? I want to tell him something before I leave," I said resolutely.
"Leave? There is no way I'm going to let you leave this house; no sir! Your mother would have me hanged if she saw how ill I've watched over you today," she said sternly.
I glanced into the cracking and popping blaze and felt my anger rise. "She doesn't matter. She's in the ground, rotting away into nothingness. I don't believe in afterlife. There's no conceivable way that there is such a thing. She's not watching over me as she promised. And she died in vain, for she shall never see Father again."
Tata grew angry at that. "No afterlife you say? Have you no faith? Her body may be 'rotting away into nothingness' in the ground, but her soul is as alive as ever. I'm worried. You're… morbid, and you're never like that unless something terrible has happened."
I said nothing reply, and was about to move when I heard his voice.
"Tatiana! In Kyrria's name, where are you? Ah, there! Tell Ollo I want Roast Beef tonight. I've recently purchased an estate in Tortulia and I'm in a festive mood."
I looked over my shoulder and clenched my fists. "Don't you take one footstep, uncle dearest. I've got a few things I'd like to settle."
He raised an eyebrow. "Suddenly, I'm not so festive. Yes, girl, what is it? I'd like to finish signing some papers."
"Did you steal my letters?" I snapped, approaching him.
He got a goofy smile before putting on a mock-bewildered face. "Letters? Why, child, I haven't the slightest idea what you mean!"
" I'm gullible enough to buy that. It's too late to do anything about a ruined friendship, and I'm sure I've established that I hate you already, so I just want you to admit that you were the one who took them," I said bitterly.
He smirked. "In that case, I admit it. I took your letters."
I furrowed my brow. "Your such a…. I can't believe you'd stoop that low. Just to spite me! Do you have any idea how much I hate you right now? I knew it was you, and I don't know why I thought you admitting it would help, but… Did I mention I hate you? Everything… you had to ruin everything I had left, didn't you?"
"I thought you weren't going to overreact," he said to me curtly, before turning to Tata, "Roast beef, alright? I'll be in my room."
"I never said that," I called after him, clenching my jaw, "I'm leaving too. And I won't come back. And no one will even notice I'm gone because no one cares about me at all. So there. Did you hear that, Edward? I'm gone. You won't have to worry about me getting in the way of your big plans and get rich schemes."
He laughed at me. I glared.
"Oh Mistress… I had no idea. I'm very sorry," Tata said gently and sympathetically, "But leaving would be foolish. You'll get ill."
"Good. I hope I get ill and die out of pure exhaustion and coldness. No one will care. I won't even care. I hope I do, as a matter of fact. I'll leave right now to get my pathetic existence over with."
"Rosalie…"
I said nothing in reply and ignored any doubts in my plan. I knew how stupid and childish I was being; the thing was, I didn't care. I marched to the door defiantly as Tata watched me anxiously. I pulled it open, sent her a victorious smile (as if I'd won some great battle with her) and shut it in her face, before heading back to the stables for Kummeck.
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