THE DISAGREEABLE DUCHESS

CHAPTER ONE

Magnolia's Point of View

It is quite funny how time flies so quickly. It seems that only yesterday my Olivia was still a child, climbing trees and running freely in the fields of Chester. And now, the child I've raised, is a woman in her mid-twenties, beautiful, intelligent and incredibly graceful in every manner.

She mostly dedicates her time in reading novels in the garden or going for short walks in the nearby park. It sometimes even reminded me of my own daughter, Charlotte. There was no doubt that Olivia is my daughter's daughter for she looked like her in every way you can imagine, it was as if my Charlotte was reborn in Olivia. Oh, if only her father could see her right now, he'll be the proudest of all for having Olivia. But still, even after two decades, in Olivia's mind lies a blank picture of her father.

Today wasn't our typical household day. Today was the fifteenth of December, Olivia's twenty-fifth birthday, and at the same time, her mother's death anniversary. And for the past twenty years or so, it has been a tradition that we visit her mother's grave in our local cemetery, and I don't know how to out this, but each and every year we'd see a piece of white rose, lying on top of Charlotte's grave. It's not that it is scaring me, but only a handful of people knew of Charlotte and her undying love for the beauty and scent of this wonderful flower she's always adorn.

"It is still fresh, grandma." Said Olivia who picked the flower up from her mother's grave.

"I know, my darling." I replied.

"Who could've left it here?" She asked.

"I don't know, but if it was left here just moments ago, then the mystery person behind that flower is still in the same area as we are." I told her. "He couldn't have gone far."

"But,"Olivia looked around, trying to see if anybody was there, besides the two of us. "there is no one here."

"Just let it go, Olivia." I preached her. "Offering your mother a flower every now and then is not a crime."

"Alright." She agreed. "I suppose we should start our prayers now."

When we got home, a parcel was sitting by the doorstep waiting for us.

"Grandma, look!" Olivia pointed. "Could it be?" She excitedly asked.

"I think it is."

Olivia ran to the door jumping in glee. "It is from my papa!" She said.

"Well, why don't you open it inside? It is getting quite chilly out here."

She unlocked the door and sprinted inside, like the energetic girl she was. And when I was finally able to arrive inside, Olivia was reading a letter which made her teary, I'm guessing that it was from her father and in her lap was a box, wrapped in red silk and tied around it was white lace.

"Why don't you open it and see what it contains?" I said.

She willingly obliged, untying the tidy knot of the lace, quickly opening the box. "It's beautiful," She said, as tears flowed across her pink cheeks. "absolutely beautiful." In her hand was a diamond-shaped heart necklace which she opened into a locket, which touched her dearly because she started sobbing and sobbing.

"Shall I put it on for you?" I asked.

She didn't respond, instead, she shook her head.

"Then I'll get the tea boiling." I told her, and then I started walking towards the kitchen.

To my dearest Olivia,

Happy birthday, my darling, Olivia. Let this gift remind you constantly that even though we are apart, my love for you will decrease no less. I love you so much, my daughter, but I don't think I will have the heart to face you or express my words through actions now.

I hope that we'll be able to meet someday soon. And I certainly do hope that you'll understand me.

All my love,

Papa

Later that night I found out the meaning behind the locket. Inside the locket were the encrypted words:

All our love

Mama and Papa

Olivia tightly held on to the letter that her father wrote for her. It sat on her chest, near her heart.

I smiled.

The following days, Olivia and I became busy preparing for Christmas. It was more or less about giving to the less fortunate, this yearly event became a tradition every single Christmas for the both of us. We'd be cooking tens and thousands of meal to be given away, after all, Christmas is all about giving. And my Olivia and I are fortunately blessed to get by each day, it is our way of thanking God.

"Grandma, the loaves are ready to be sliced." Said Olivia.

"Then place them on the plates, deary." I told her. "People will be arriving soon."

"Alright."

In less than an hour, men and women of different ages started entering our familiar home, along with them were children in old, dirty clothes, whom happily picked up a platter of their own and settled on our small dinner table. And as soon as the dining area was all filled up, the crowd moved to our sitting room, chatting and eating with men who've they come across sometime ago.

Not everyone was foreign to us, the orphaned little boy, Tommy, whom Olivia adores, came with his little sister, Tara. They lived off running around Chester, begging for scraps and alms to get by, but Tommy was a prideful boy, he refused the help that we offered for him and his sister. He'd rather that they starve and sleep in the cold streets than accept help from just anyone, but he loves and cares for her little sister very much. He comes here yearly, along with his little sister. Events like this that offered free meals for everyone always made him happy.And after the festivities, he'd willingly volunteer himself in doing the dishes, provided of course that Tara will be able to rest on the couch while doing so, and we'd offer him the leftovers which he gladly accepts because he's done something in return for it.

Among the crowd was our neighbor, Robin. He'd come and visit us every morning for breakfast and afternoon tea. His wife passed away not long ago, and I think that he's been coming here ever since to avoid the feeling of loneliness.

When the party finished, piles of plates were stacked on the sink and kitchen counter. It was a lot of work for Olivia and I, but we enjoy doing so. Little Tommy, with his sister Tara, stayed with us for the night, helping with the tidying and cleaning.

"Good Evening, Olivia." Little Tommy greeted.

"Hello Tommy, Tara." Olivia gave them a smile. "Here to help us work?"

"Yes, we are." Tara excitingly agreed.

"Then why don't you start by handing me those plates over there." Olivia pointed at those plates that were left in the dining table. "By the dining table."

Tommy ran, handing his little sister plates that she'll be able to safely carry towards Olivia. "Be careful, Tara." Tommy said.

"Okay."

And because of the children's help, we finished in no time. Tommy agreed to stay the night since it was past midnight, but I am so sure that before either Olivia or me rises in the morning, they'll be gone.

"Are you sure that you are comfortable sleeping there?" I asked, Tommy and Tara were sharing the couch for the night, even though I offered them the spare room.

"Yes, we are." The boy confidently answered. "Thank you, Mrs Wilkins."

"You're welcome." I said. "Now, go to sleep, and please Tommy, be sure to stay here for breakfast tomorrow morning."

"Alright." He replied. "Good night, Mrs Wilkins, Ms Olivia."

"Good night!" said Tara.

"Good night."

The next morning, I came down stairs to happily find Tommy and Tara snoring by the couch. They did not escape in the middle of the night. So, I let them be. I am quite sure that they were tired from helping us clean the house and I proceeded my way into the kitchen.

Olivia came down in her night gown an hour later, and soon, the children woke up as well.

"Good morning, grandma." Greeted Olivia. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did." I replied. "And you?"

"I slept well, as well."

Breakfast was serve fifteen minutes later, and luckily, Olivia was able to persuade the children to help her with the laundry and stay for a while more.

"Where am I suppose to put this, Olivia?" Asked Tommy, carrying the load of laundry.

"Anywhere will do, thank you, Tommy." Replied my granddaughter, with a beautiful and bright smile on her face.

"Children," I called from the kitchen window. "lunch is served."

"We will be right in, grandma." Replied Olivia.

As soon as we were all settled in the dining table, eating pot roast and roasted potatoes. I couldn't help but think of the children that were eating opposite to me. "So tell me, Tommy," I started. "where do you usually live?"

"Well," Tommy was hesitant to answer. "wherever we are when the sun goes down."

"And where does the sun usually set?" Asked Olivia.

"Usually in the streets..." Tara honestly replied.

"Oh my good Lord!" I gasped. "Well, why don't you stay here instead?"

"I really... We really can't." Tommy shook his head. "We won't be able to repay you."

"Then, how about working for me?" I asked. "Be my errand boy, in exchange for food and shelter." I knew Tommy, he was the kind of child that felt dependent and responsible for his younger sibling. "We do need a man in the house, and you are the perfect person for the job."

"If it is really alright with you Mrs. Wilkins, then alright."

"Splendid!" I exclaimed. "You can start by washing the dishes after lunch, then you can move your things to the spare room next to mine."

"Uhm..." Tommy hummed silently. "We really don't have anything apart from ourselves and the clothes we are wearing."

"Oh," Olivia gasped. "I still have my old gowns from when I was a child in my cabinets, and I'm certain that my papa's old shirts will fit you nicely."

"Thank you, really." Tommy gave a big smile. "Thank you!"

After lunch, Tommy stood up and collected the plates from us. He happily washed it, unlike any typical child that hates chores. Tara was with Olivia in the sitting room with an old book that Olivia used in the school room. Apparently, at the age of seven, Tara could hardly spell out her name.

"Can you spell out 'Tara'?" Olivia asked.

"T - A - R - A." The child spelled.

Olivia clapped. "Very good! Now you know the alphabet, and tomorrow, I'm going to teach you how to read."

"Really?" Asked the excited girl.

"Yes!" Olivia replied.

"Tommy! Olivia's going to teach me how to read!" Tara boasted. "Tommy!"

"That's good for you, Tara." Said Tommy. "You have to write me a letter next time, alright?"

"What's 'writing'?" Asked Tara.

"It's drawing letters on paper to spell out a word." I replied to her question. "We'll teach you that too."

Our little festivity ended when someone knocked on the door.

"I'll answer it." Olivia stood up and walked towards the door.