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Chapter 2
The dirt sprinkled up beneath her feet, but somehow none of it got on her dress. Tap, tap, tap her feet went across the grass as Lady Matilda Bishop ran across the yard without a care. The wind bathed her hair, the sun hugged her skin. The day was as good as it could have gotten, and that was because Matilda made her own fun.
She laughed while keeping her breath steady. The two tasks were not easy to do while running at the speed that she had been running. What caused her to laugh was the chatter of the maids giving chase to Matilda. It was a game of cat and mouse, one which she enjoyed thoroughly.
Matilda had always done what was expected of her. She followed her duties and family expectations without any issue. And that was the thing most people enjoyed about her.She could be relied on. And because she abided in what was expected of her, most people were also comfortable around her as well. She did not mind much, having that reputation because when it came to the few times she had pulled a stunt, like running away from home, the repercussions were minimal. And on occasion, she needed to get away. She needed to make her own rules in order to feel as though the perfect Matilda was also her own person.
When the voices of the maids dulled and finally fizzled away completely, Matilda knew that she had gotten the slip on them. It was not the first time as it had become practice for her in away. She knew what route to take and what objects to jump over in order to outrun them. Aside from rarely getting in trouble, she had also prided herself on being able to outsmart some of the maids in that way. She adored them and appreciated their hard work daily, but at times having maids could often be like having guards who share gossip. Not all, but most. It was much like the time she had first bled, and those in the castle knew before her own mother. That was when she learned that there are nice maids, there are maids who gossip, and there are both.
Matilda stopped running behind a tree and took a moment to catch her breath. When she could breathe normally once more, she sat beneath that tree and opened up a book. There was nothing like the open air, the grass beneath her, and a love story on the pages right below her nose. And the one she had been reading had hooked her immediately.
And that made her curious. Despite her reading books about love, Matilda often wondered why she had always been so enamoured by them. She had never experienced love or romance of any kind, but reading stories about it brought her no greater joy. From the ups and downs of the story to the way in which the man and woman always find true love in the end, the tales always excited her like she had never read them before. And she had read more than she could count.
Sometimes, pondering her enthusiasm towards love books made her think about her own future. Would she one day fill the shoes of the very love-struck heroines she would read about daily?
But she was not afforded the opportunity to think in that regard on that day because she was suddenly distracted by rustling not too far behind her. Someone had caught up to her, and that someone had been ultra-sneaky about it. Matilda had thought she lost all the chasing maids.
Matilda took a deep breath while closing her eyes. As she did so, she closed her book at the same time. She envisioned running away, so much so that she had mapped out a route in her mind. Sure, it was just a game; after all, running away made great fodder,but still, she would not lose at her own game that easily.
Her rear-end left the ground to burst into another sprint when a hand clamps down on her shoulder. The grip was tight and could only be that of someone bigger or older than she had been—adult anger was attached to the hand that held her for sure.
When Matilda turns around to see who it is, she realizes that it is Ann, her lady’s maid. It is to Matilda’s surprise to see that Ann is not as angry as her grip let on.Instead, there is a slight smirk rested beneath the woman’s nose.
Ann had always been one to understand Matilda better than most. The few annoyances or misunderstandings on Matilda’s behalf that would cause frustration within most, Ann always tended to know Matilda’s intent.Therefore, she judged her less. But that did not mean that she came without her own seriousness or critique.
“Running away on the day you are to meet Charles.” Ann started. “Why would I have expected you to do anything else? It is always an adventure when it comes to you.”
Matilda enjoyed that about Ann. Even when she had faced her scorn, there a heartfelt element to it somewhere deep down underneath it all. “I am becoming rather predictable, I must say. Perhaps I will never be like one of the characters in my book.”
Ann sent her eyes to the book in Matilda’s hands, and there was not a hint of amusement anywhere on her face.Her eyes then made a judgment on the dress that Matilda had been wearing. She knew that someone would have something to say about it the second that she had put it on in the morning.
“What did we speak about the other day about the dress you are wearing?” Ann asked.
Matilda fought with herself on answering. She hated being quizzed when she knew that it was a trick question into getting her to admit her own wrongdoings. But, respect was key, so she replied, “I am to not wear this dress because mother finds it too plain.”
And whose duty is it to make sure that your mother’s daughter abides by her wishes?”
“Yours.”
“That is correct. So that means that when your mother sees the dress again on her daughter, it is a reflection on my work ethic. But not only that, it’s a reflection on my listening skills and capability to follow commands. But you would know nothing about that now, would you?”
“Forgive me,” Matilda started in an effort to get Ann to understand her point of view but knew that it would most likely not happen given the red glow growing on Ann’s face. “But I don’t see the importance of what fabrics line my body. All the characters in my books never once fixate on what they are wearing. They focus on love, their story. Why can’t the real world be more like that?”
Ann rolled her eyes and then rummaged through the little bag that she had slung over her torso. “You answered your own question. The important word there isreal.”Out came some ribbons in Ann’s hands. “You are in the real world. And what you wear is often just as important as the words that come out of your mouth.”
It was then that Ann tried to spruce up Matilda’s dress with the ribbon. As some short time passed, her hands moved faster,and her lips grew pursed. Matilda wanted to laugh somewhat at just how difficult it proved to be to make such a plain dress look fanciful.
Ann’s words had made sense to her, but she still enjoyed living under the hope that her stories did hold some truth in them. Hope was not something that Matilda took for granted. At times, hope seemed like the only thing that was guaranteed in life if, of course, you believed in it.
Matilda continued to watch Ann make the dress look more expensive than it was. There was so much focus in Ann’s eyes, so much honest intent. That was just the way Ann did things. Whatever she did, she always put all her effort into it. She cared about the most trivial of things, always claiming that it is the small things that make the big picture. So, even though Ann had just been a maid, Matilda looked up to her in the same way that she looked up to her mother and the characters in her books. She was a strong female, someone who knew the world in ways that Matilda had yet to discover. And because of that, she valued Ann’s opinion, even when it frustrated her to admit it.
“Ann, you always seem to know the answers to the most complicated questions. How is that?”
Ann’s face, after all the time since finding Matilda under the tree, finally softened. “I am glad that some of my wisdom does not fall from your ears like a leaf from a tree branch.But to answer your question, I would say that I don’t necessarily know all the answers, but I am willing to learn. When you are willing to learn, you can never be wrong.”
Matilda liked that notion because she enjoyed learning quite a lot. That was a hobby she could get behind. But her real question was about to make its presence known. “What do you think love is?”
Ann let out a little chuckle. “For someone who spent a good amount of energy running, you are full of questions today, aren’t you?”
