His Young Lady

His Young Lady is a historical fiction set somewhere in Europe in the 19th century. The story revolves about a noble girl named Lady Himeliariz Moorefield, only daughter of the renown Marchioness in Cardiff, Wales. She is a spoiled young lady, witty, smart and elegant and is closest to one person, Earl Stephan, who is her beloved uncle. She is thirsty of her mother's love and attention and because of this she develops some inferiority and low self-esteem when it comes to the perfectionist Marchi

 “I brought a present which I know

you would like than anything else.”

THE SKY IS BLUE. The clouds are white. At the outside of the manorhouse there is the green land, and the sun above the horizon keeps illuminating its morning light, and the tweets of sweet nightingales are quite intimidating. Everyday it is peaceful. Quite. As if no signs of living existence is there to find in that seemingly desolated estate. Unless...

"Young Lady!"

The housekeepers' unnerving shouts intrude the peaceful manor house, that which, originally, in its halcyon state each day after another.

Galloping of horses is then heard.

Footsteps are racing towards the main door and on the grand hall. Clattering sounds are heard downstairs. A butler on command.

Flustered maids in black and white uniforms are hurrying just before the main entrance and the clacking of cutleries are perceived from the kitchen. A chef's preparing exquisite confectioneries to serve.

It is an unexpected occurrence. And it is one of the busiest days inside the Moorefield's Manor, one of those days that woulddisquiether emotions.

She only has two options as to why she is being called quite unexpectedly. For one: her perfectionist mother has arrived without making a prior call she would come. Two: her workaholic father, an English aristocrat, has miraculously dropped off a visit in his own mansion from a long business trip of some place. Rather than these two main possibilities, she has no idea what else or who else it could be.

Of course, as in majority of all, she wants to see her father and she has been longing to see her mother each day. Whose child, particularly at her age, would not want to see them, cuddle them, and pour out small kisses to their parents anyway?

She swears it would be the happiest day in her life had her mother kissed her on the cheeks, had her father asked her "how are you?" wherein she would be far willing to answer "I am good but I miss you." Yet her fear to face them in accordance to their grand expectations always hinders her. She is more like a stranger to them even though they are her own parents. She's never been close to them. And it has been always like that for almost eight years now. What difference would it make this time?

"The Young Lady is not opening the door, Earl Stephan." She hears one of her personal maids said behind the door. She then quavers.

"Give me the keys." commands the man holder of the title Earl.

The servant hands him the house keys with her trembling hands, still undoubtedly nervous about the unexpected arrival of the Marquis' wife. Even they, the servants, are not expecting this sudden arrival.

"The Marchioness wants to see her badly this day. It is an urgent call, Earl Stephan." One of the maids added.

She flinches upon confirming it. The cause of the sudden commotion is her mother. It is certainly rare that she did not leave a call or a letter ahead of her arrival.

She hurries to open her wardrobe and then fretfully pushes herself in inside the dark closet. She is always anxious to face her mother, partly because the Marchioness is not always present by her side, and partly because her mother is never been close to her.

She wants to see her. She always hopes that someday the Marchioness would hug her as a loving mother would to a child. She wants to see her mother's innocent smile, however, in contrast to that, the Marchioness never smiles. She has not seen her smiling, not even once. Not even in the royal balls or small parties.

As a child, she wants to have a normal mother-daughter relationship. But whenever her mother would come home to see her she always have the opposite development. She ought to prefer locking herself to somewhere else than to disappoint her mother's high standards of'this and that'behaviors. 

The Marchioness wants perfections, honor and nobility. And she is very keen and meticulous to reputation and pride. She has an excessive noble priority and doesn't want any imperfections. She doesn't take any imperfection commentaries towards herself either. All that matters to her is her nobility and pride. Her title.

The Marchioness to boot has a bad perspective concerning plebeians. She doesn't trust people on lower classes and assumes they are a threat, a faulty influence to her child. It has become a long axiom to the Marchioness that, people outside the nobility are aiming for one thing,money. Influences. 

Her father however, is another issue. He is an English aristocrat from London, a Marquis and is a diligent businessman who happens to have an inherited manor house in Wales. But despite having that remarkable mansion, the Marquis decided to stay in London to manage the business he has in that city. He doesn't usually go to Wales.

The aristocrat couple occasionally visits her in their estate at Wales. The couple even rarely meets each other, which is quite an issue to Hime. Her father spends most of his entire time in London. He has a company there that he has to take care of, sort of textiles manufacturing, Hime is not even  sure about it.

Her mother, on the other hand, loves to socialize with the noblesse, but most of the time she loves traveling alone. The Marchioness does not want to stay in a place for a longer. And she doesn't know how to raise a daughter, a very sad part of being a mother.

As the only daughter of a noble family, whose ancestors are traditionally strict and very noble in character, and especially of that who are very dedicated to their titles, is not a good thing at all.

She lives a very convenient life inside the manor house, but unfortunately andmorehonestly, everything isnotcomfortable, at all.

"It is the miserable fate of a noble's daughter." She heard her English tutor said it once before. Because she's a child she didn't take it by heart but rather she assumed it as a mere form of jealousy.

Her uncle, Stephan, is the only person that is undoubtedly much closer to her, not to mention that her uncle always spoils her.

The person, who can truly understand her, is him. Even when times she is hard to understand her uncle always would. Or tries to. At least.

Her uncle is very loving, he can read her mind--like he's some sort of telepathist, mind reader or whatsoever--in any circumstances, and to be more frank, her uncle is more like a father to her. Given the chance to choose a father, she would pick her uncle, and no one would even dare to question her why it is so.

She hears the knob clicked and she knows what would happen next. For a seven-year-old lady such as her, it is not a question how her slender, small, and very delicate figure would fit in inside the wardrobe.

She covers herself with all the hanged clothes inside the closet, hoping it would keep her body invincible, but it is unlikely.

Her heart is pumping fast as she hearshisfootsteps that have stopped right in front of her large closet. That's it. She is very familiar with this scenario. It happens one after another.

"Lil' Miss Hime, I know you are there." He says.


"Do I need to open it for you? Or shall you voluntarily open it for me?"

She is clutching her small clothed chest as she hears his soft yet demanding voice.

She knows that her uncle is aware of the fact she couldn't refuse him. Only her uncle could tame her in times like this, besides, she can't just oppose him for so many indefinable reasons. You see, she adores him so much.

But why is he here now? She didn’t know he is coming today. Having that thought in her mind she peevishly surrenders and comes out from that dark closet, a part in her is excited to see him anyway.

"Uncle Stephan..." She starts with a teary eye.


The End

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