Post by Margaret d'Anthony on May 11, 2009 22:05:29 GMT 1
Margaret shifted in the carriage, leaning against the wooden wall. She was tear stained and still at current, sniffing away the remnants of crying. She glanced out the window, staring at the green forest. The carriage driver had taken her a long ways out from Nottingham, saying that outlaws roamed certain parts of the forest. This road was much less traveled and heavily overgrown.
She yelped as she was knocked forward in the wagon, jostled by a tree root that had grown over the road.
It was all her father's fault. He disapproved of her fiery, disobedient behaviors and mannerisms. And after two years, one death of a "nobody", and attempts to change her later the Matron Lenora had drawn up nothing. She was unchangeable, and that wasn't good enough for Lord Reginald. He sent Matron Lenora and the young Margaret to Nottingham, to stay with a Sir Gisborne, a man who word for the Sherrif of Nottingham. The Sherrif and Lord Reginald knew one another, however to Margaret's belief not well enough to ship your daughter away to.
And there, just miles from Margaret, she would learn the ways to behave in the setting of a court, and where nonsense was certainly not permitted.
Margaret leaned forward in the carriage, opening the small window to where the driver sat. "Sir, could I ask, how long to Loxely?"
The carriage driver mumbled incoherently before replying, "Ab't quart hour, miss."
Margaret nodded, solemnly returning to her seat. Matron Lenora had left the day previous to make the Manor ready for their stay. Sir Gisbone, the man who lived in the Manor had allowed for their stay in a portion of the building. Margaret found the arrangements distasteful, feeling that she and the Matron should be given room in the castle and not in one of the Sherrif's mens' homes. She was told by Lenora it was temporary, and even more temporary if she improved in a timely fashion.
But, as a lady should, she would not complain. Too much.
Soon the scenery changed as the road opened into a village. It was one of the poorer villages she had seen. The faces of peasants met her eyes as she glanced out the window, they glared up from their work briefly before carrying on.
"The poor souls," she muttered as the carriage came to a stop before the manor.
She gathered her red dress skirt together as the carriage door was opened, and the driver helped her out. Margaret stepped out, smiling at Matron Lenora and the gentleman at her side.
"I am the Countess Margaret d'Anthony," She pulls out her fan, giving a gentle wave with it, allowing only her eyes to be revealed. Before pulling it down. "How do you do?" She smirked, it wasn't to hard to pretend to obey propriety, it was hard to truly take it to heart.
She yelped as she was knocked forward in the wagon, jostled by a tree root that had grown over the road.
It was all her father's fault. He disapproved of her fiery, disobedient behaviors and mannerisms. And after two years, one death of a "nobody", and attempts to change her later the Matron Lenora had drawn up nothing. She was unchangeable, and that wasn't good enough for Lord Reginald. He sent Matron Lenora and the young Margaret to Nottingham, to stay with a Sir Gisborne, a man who word for the Sherrif of Nottingham. The Sherrif and Lord Reginald knew one another, however to Margaret's belief not well enough to ship your daughter away to.
And there, just miles from Margaret, she would learn the ways to behave in the setting of a court, and where nonsense was certainly not permitted.
Margaret leaned forward in the carriage, opening the small window to where the driver sat. "Sir, could I ask, how long to Loxely?"
The carriage driver mumbled incoherently before replying, "Ab't quart hour, miss."
Margaret nodded, solemnly returning to her seat. Matron Lenora had left the day previous to make the Manor ready for their stay. Sir Gisbone, the man who lived in the Manor had allowed for their stay in a portion of the building. Margaret found the arrangements distasteful, feeling that she and the Matron should be given room in the castle and not in one of the Sherrif's mens' homes. She was told by Lenora it was temporary, and even more temporary if she improved in a timely fashion.
But, as a lady should, she would not complain. Too much.
Soon the scenery changed as the road opened into a village. It was one of the poorer villages she had seen. The faces of peasants met her eyes as she glanced out the window, they glared up from their work briefly before carrying on.
"The poor souls," she muttered as the carriage came to a stop before the manor.
She gathered her red dress skirt together as the carriage door was opened, and the driver helped her out. Margaret stepped out, smiling at Matron Lenora and the gentleman at her side.
"I am the Countess Margaret d'Anthony," She pulls out her fan, giving a gentle wave with it, allowing only her eyes to be revealed. Before pulling it down. "How do you do?" She smirked, it wasn't to hard to pretend to obey propriety, it was hard to truly take it to heart.