Colchester, 1828 The dilapidated carriage wobbled with uncertainty, the horses snorted in dismay continuing up the mundane hill towards the familiar land I called home, as a child. My hands sat clamped together in my lap tightly as my eyes lingered out the window. Mother was unwell, yet she continues to work herself?! I thought to myself. My eyebrows pushed together while I silently scowled, at not only my ill mother, but my sad excuse of a father for not doing anything to help her. Sweet orchids danced in union with the wind, the never ending aroma of their intoxicating scent filled my nostrils as the carriage door creaked open. My reticule hung loosely by my side, while my fingers threaded themselves through my burgundy tresses that cascaded down my slender form just reaching a few inches above my waist line. The thick cotton skirt brushed against my ankle; the window blew vigorously through the clear morning sky. The muslin fabric of my blouse hung loosely off my chest giving my attire a carefree look, the pale emerald blouse reached up to my neck, a lace trimming around my throat in a neatly sewn collar. The door to the small cottage opened quickly; just as quickly an older woman stumbled out. Her hair was laced with gray strands and dark bags had formed under her eyes, proof that she probably hadn't had proper sleep in a while. That woman though... I knew her. Bright green orbs aimed at me; those familiar eyes. Those eyes that resembled mine in every way imaginable. The only thing on that enfeebled face that was full and livings. Her russet ringlets fluttered in the wind like butterflies flying freely around her elder face. "Nova... Nova!" My mother cried out as she ran off the front porch; arms spread open inviting me into them as if I were a child yet again. Tears clouded my vision; my mother feeble arms wrapped around my shoulders pulling me closer to her. "Nova... oh how I miss my sweet little girl." Tears fell from her eyes as she stared down at me in disbelief. "Mother what are you doing? You are very unwell." My grimace face frowning at her. My hand wrapped around her bony wrist, and lightly tugged her towards the porch. Her pearl white chemise was loose on her body. "When is the last you have eaten?" My mother face falls a little; she silently kicked the ground a cloud of dust appearing. "Your father was unable to bring home food from the local shop when he was out. I am unsure where he is at the moment though." Her voice dropped to a whisper. My mouth filled with distaste as I thought about what my mother had just said. My palms ball themselves up; my knuckles turning white and cheeks turning a violent crimson tint. When I see my father... I swear on the heavens. We made our way into the small cottage; my mother clung to my arm for support. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I witnessed first-handed how diminutive my mother had turned into. I sat my mother down on a small love-seat; the fragrance of her sweet perfume lurked aimlessly through the halls. "Do you have any tea here mother?" Her head lowered casting a shadow across her face. The air stilled as her unspoken words answered my question. I pulled my reticule up a little bit digging through it, looking if I had packed any. Finally, the silence was broken as a knock echoed through the house. I felt my mother tense up at the sound, as if she were a cat about to be thrown into a lake. "I will get it. Please rest mother." My fingertips brushed against her boney cheekbones, a frown plastered on my face for a split second. I walked towards the front door, my fingers lacing around the door handle pulling it open. An elder man stood there. His beard hid most of his wrinkles. He held a small rectangle box. "Mrs. Ruxton here at the present moment?" "Yes, she is inside resting." "May I come in, I must give her something." I stepped aside whilst nodding my head allowing the man to enter. I closed the door behind him, and led him into the sitting area. My mother looked up at me as we entered the room. "Lord Evenbrim. What do I owe the pleasure of your company?" "Mrs. Ruxton, I'm just re-informing you on behalf of my daughter. Her gathering will be pushed to tomorrow towards dusk. She is quite the impatient one, and wants to know if you are still joining us for the gathering?" Lord Evenbrim sat the box down next to my mother; his hands clamped together behind his back. "My mother is unwell. She will not be-" "Of course I will be joining you." My mother placed her shaken hand on the box. Her eyes meeting mine. The sadness now drowning out the livingness in her eyes. "Mrs. Ruxton if you are unwell..." Lord Evenbrim started, but quickly stopped once he caught sight of my mother's frown. "I can manage just fine, child. No need to worry about me." Her voice was low, and somewhat hurt me. She thinks I am but a child? My shoulders slouched a little letting out a deep breath. Lord Evenbrim stood there, confusion spread across his face like a wildfire. The room became awkwardly silent. Branches tapped against the window as the wind fought against them for dominance. My mother pulled on the ribbon that held the box closed. The small fabric cascaded to the floor, like a fallen leave. She pulled the box up a little. A small, neatly folded uniform sat in there. "What is that?" I didn't want to hear the answer, but it was to late. "My uniform... I'm helping in the kitchen." My mother stood up, pulling the uniform out of the box completely, pressing it against her chest. The gray blouse complimented her complexion, yet she shouldn't be working! "No." That single word. The single word caused my mother to stumble back a little; a puzzled expression played across her face. "No?" They both said together, looking at one another than at me. "You will not go to that gathering tomorrow," I held up a hand to stop either of them from interrupting me, "I will go in your place. You will rest." ______________________________________ Haven't written a story here I a while. Here you go. ?️ Sorry for grammar errors and spelling errors.