Prelude
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- This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. -
Ding. Ding. Ding! The bells rang loudly alerting the village and great house that the awaited time has come. The time for Isabella to began a new season, in a new place, with a man and people she didn't know.
She sat in the windows arch staring blankly, listening to the constant patter of rain. This is all it had done for the last few weeks. To her, It was a reminder of how she felt but others whispered of a bad omen. Either way, she didn't care. The marriage was set and her mother dare not to deliver the bride when she had already accepted thousands of pounds. Even if, she was providing the wrong daughter.
The click of heels made way to Isabella's room. When the door swung open, she could see the reflection of Maria, her adoptive sister through the glass pane. Maria sighed loudly and made way to her, grabbing the hair brush along the way. She begun to brush her hair gently and styled it into a neat braid. "Mother sent me to get you ready." She said as she finished her hair. Isabella remained silent.
"As always, you've not much to say to your sister."
"Adoptive sister." Isabella replied as she lifted her body up and moved away from Maria. "I can dress myself."
Maria was the promised daughter. She was supposed to be the one getting into that carriage today. But why would the duchess send off her only beloved daughter to be with strangers? Why, when she had her? She was the daughter that not many knew of, favored by the Duke and disliked by the Duchess. If only he were here.
Isabella slipped into a silk blue mock neck dress and reached back to zip it up. However, Maria beat her to it. "Mother knows what she's doing. I know you're not the one that's supposed to be going but as long as one of us goes all will be fine. Just do as you always do, keep your head low and your mouth shut."
With that, Maria turned tail and headed to the bedroom door. "The carriage is ready. I was instructed to bring only a small purse of sentimentals." She then shut the door.
Over the years, Isabella built up a strong tolerance to the cruel things said and done to her. This was no different. She had to be strong no matter the circumstance. She gathered a small satchel and tossed in her diary, her yellow scarf and a wooden carved pencil. She looked around one last time at the room she'd never see again then made her way out to the carriage that would deliver her to an unknown future.
