Thornback Lover: A Dark Romance

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Aribeth

The next morning is the first day of my life finally starting. My wonderful maid: Bridget dresses me and does my hair the best she can while I bounce up and down telling her to hurry repeatedly. She only laughs and pokes fun at me, but I don’t care. All I care about is the ball, it’s practically here! I don’t know how I will get a dress in a week’s time. Unheard of!

Once I am put together my mother’s handmaid; Theia, walks with father and mother, then I am out the door. My heart is beating out of my chest as we approach the larger gates to our garden. This is it. My freedom. I watch as the others pass the thrash hold like it is a normal day and I make sure I am last. I want to savor this.

Taking a deep breath – “Come on Aribeth, we don’t have all day” Mother chides. I step over the threshold into the world. “Come on girl, into to the carriage.”

I want to snap at my mother for rushing my moment, but I will not. Instead, I hurry over and step up into our carriage. I haven’t been in it much, as I never leave, but it is pretty on the inside with gold silk benches and intricate gold and white wallings. Only mother and father are in the cabin with me, our maids must ride outside. I feel bad for Bridget. She would have loved to ride inside. I would have loved to talk to her during the ride too. Stealing myself I cast out my sour feelings and look out the window. This is the start of my life. This is the first best day of many to come.

It doesn’t take long to reach our destination. As we exit the carriage, I notice a few people stop and stare. I guess it has been a while since anyone has seen my face. They most likely thought I was dead. I smile politely at them and notice a few gentle men’s eyes linger on me, ignoring them I walk into the seamstress shop. I only have eyes for Mr. Charles Riley. Hopefully, now that I am out, he will ask my father for my hand in marriage. That would be perfect! I can marry a dreamy man and still help my father.

The seamstress’ shop has so many fabrics and textures I would spend all day looking and touching them if I could. My mother and the maids speak with her while I am fitted, poke, and squeezed to death by the seamstress.

“Mother, may I pick the color?”

She looks at me bewildered that I even asked. “No, my dear, we already picked it out, you are just being fitted.” Ah, so that is what this white fabric is, it is to be my dress. I take a closer look at it, hoping it will magically change color, but it doesn’t. It remains white and plain. Sighing heavily, I look around at the fabrics I would have loved. A silver dress, dusty pink, or a daring red. Even a white dress with lace or jewels would be better, even silk.

I will be the plainest person at the ball. My sour mood returns, and I don’t say anything else for the rest of the fitting.