Outside the house, garden trails broke into a maze of stony paths around pools of water filled with colorful fish. Beds of irises, roses, azaleas, and many other flowering plants and bush surrounded the manor on all sides.
I’d always felt like a princess kept locked away in an enchanted castle.
Little did I realize how true my childhood imaginations were.
I had everything a young girl could ever wish for. Except for companionship. The few servants that maintained the manor and gardens weren’t allowed to speak or even look at me unless it was absolutely necessary. Even when Godmother wasn’t there, they adhered to this rule as if their very lives depended on it. No matter how many tantrums I threw, no matter how loud I shouted, they continued to pretend I wasn’t even there.
If I refused to eat the food they served, they’d quietly clean up the mess I created by throwing my plate across the dining room. After several nights of going hungry, I gave up on that tactic and eventually resigned myself to the fact that I only had two people in the world to speak to— Godmother Estelle and my tutor, Miss Wrenn.
Godmother didn’t actually live at the manor. She traveled most of the time, especially as I grew older and into my teen years. Miss Wrenn came on a daily basis for lessons. She lived in a small cottage nearby, but I’d never been able to find her home and assumed she was one of the few allowed to leave Godmother’s property.
The servants lived in a section of the manner I wasn’t allowed to enter.
Miss Wrenn looked young but jokingly said she was ancient. She knew so many things but strictly shared what Godmother deemed safe. In the library, where most of our lessons were held, I was only allowed the books I could reach. The upper shelves were off limits.
“When you’re old enough to reach them, Rachel,” Wrenn often said, “Then you’ll be old enough to understand them. For now, let’s read this delightful book about a red fox. I recall you mentioning having seen one in the garden, did you not?”
“Yes,” I slumped in the over-stuffed chair in a huff. “And I’ve read that book before. And the others about animals, as well. Tell me where Godmother goes when she’s not here. Why can’t I travel with her?”
Whenever I asked about the world outside of the Froste estate, Miss Wrenn directed me to textbooks about plant lore or assigned difficult math problems for me to work out.
One day, I managed to reach a new book that said American History on the spine. I’d had to stand on my tiptoes while perched on three other thick books, but I’d managed to bring the textbook down. The pictures inside amazed me. Drawings and paintings of so many people I was reminded of the ant beds I sometimes came across in the garden.
“Miss Wrenn, what is a…President?” He sounded important. Like a king, or prince from the fairy tale stories I often read.
Miss Wrenn snatched the book from my hands, looking around nervously as she returned it to the shelves, but in a higher spot. “When you’re older, Rachel. The world in those books isn’t a pleasant place, trust me.”
I was so furious over never having my questions answered, my hands trembled to the point that Miss Wrenn looked worried. She dismissed me for the day. Soon after that little incident, Godmother paid a visit.
She seemed to know right away that I was out of sorts but didn’t bother to ask why. Instead, she smiled and batted her long, dark eyelashes. She always wore heavy make-up. I figured it was to hide the wrinkles that sometimes appeared on her face. There were days when she hid them well, and other days when she didn’t.
“Rachel, my heart,” Godmother said, taking my hands roughly in hers. “I know you are growing curious about what is outside of this sanctuary I’ve placed you in. I promise that you are not missing out on anything. The world outside is cruel. The people are selfish.”
She patted my hands. “Trust Godmother Estelle. I love you very much, my treasure. I will never let anyone harm you ever again. You are safe here, precious. Now, no more fussing. You don’t wish to be locked in your room again, do you? I know you’ll miss running through your garden and reading the books that I have approved for you.”
The time she’d locked me in my room for two weeks had been a nightmare. I hadn’t even been able to open my windows so that I could feel the wind on my face and hear the birds singing to me each morning. No, the shutters had been locked, allowing little sunlight in. Even Miss Wrenn didn’t come to see me. My meals seemed to magically appear on my desk three times a day and the empty dishes disappear after about an hour or so passed. Whether I’d eaten or not, nobody seemed to care.
I shook my head, not wanting to be subjected to that punishment ever again.
Despite the enchanting beauty surrounding me, I was often left feeling empty and alone. I often wandered around the manor, or through the garden, as if searching for something, though I knew not what.
One day, lonely and bored, I happened upon a portion of the mansion that I’d not explored before. For some reason, I’d always assumed this hall led to the servant’s quarters, but there was nobody around at the moment. The ornate wooden door at the end of the corridor beckoned me.
When I opened the creaking door, my eyes widened at the room’s contents. There were several dusty stringed instruments lining one of the pale-yellow walls. Violins, cellos, and even an old guitar were all propped on metal stands. A bookcase contained several musical books. On the opposite wall, I found a case of several brass horn instruments. Some I had no idea what they were for, but all were beautiful to behold.
What really caught my attention was the shiny black grand piano sitting in a circular nook of the room. Golden sunlight poured in through the dusty windows. I ran into the bright area to find this part of the house sheltered by thick trees and crawling ivy that grew up along the walls and hung over the glassed doors. No wonder I’d never noticed it before.
My fingers tingled as if full of static electricity.
I opened each glassed door, hoping the wind would come in and freshen the place up for me.
In the distance, the clouds grew darker. Flashes of lightning shot across the sky. My heart trembled with excitement as the rumbling thunder coursed through me. Oh, what a wonderful sound. What an exhilarating feeling!
I sat on the bench, then lifted the cover and stared down at the ivory and ebony keys. They seemed to glow as the marble floors did when the sunlight filtered into the library.
As the clouds outside darkened the sky, the wind found its way into the hidden room. It danced around me, whipping my long, blond hair and howling in my ears.
My fingers rested on the keys. Sparks skittered over my skin and before I knew what was happening, music filled the room and followed the wind back outside. The melody engulfed me in a peace I’d never experienced before. For the first time in eighteen years, I felt as if I’d found the missing piece of my soul.
I knew no real songs. The music came from somewhere deep inside of me, the notes tumbling over and weaving together into a captivating melody that drew several people to the room, including Miss Wrenn.
Lightning snapped outside, crackling at just the right moments. Thunder boomed like the pounding of a drum. I was so lost in the music, I didn’t even realize who all had joined me until the storm passed and I slumped over the piano, exhausted, but satisfied.
My shoulders heaved as I tried to catch my breath. Lifting my head, I looked at the stunned spectators. Tears coursed down the maid’s faces. Some of the other staff had fallen to their knees where they stared in shocked silence. For once, they were truly looking at me.
Only Miss Wrenn was still standing, her expression passive, yet impressed. I could tell from the slight rise of her thin brows over her golden eyes.
Miss Wrenn turned to the butler Mr. Stimms, and said, “Call Madam Estelle. Quickly now. Tell her to come right away. Rachel has finally revealed her true talent.”
Chapter 2
Present day.
The dancers take their bows. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I�
��m normally a little nervous before a performance, but I’m not sure if that’s the reason for this odd sensation. I press my hand against my abdomen, willing the feelings to cease.
This, by far, is the largest gathering I’ve been permitted to play for.
I draw in a long breath and close my eyes, needing to picture somewhere serene so my nerves won't get the better of me. My garden sanctuary fills my mental vision. I draw in a breath of the sweet-scented roses that grow all around my favorite bench. I mentally picture the tranquil pond filled with koi and goldfish. Ferns uncurl their long fronds. Bight daylilies and colorful irises are opening their faces after the dormant winter months have turned to the warmer days of spring.
Then I picture him there, standing beneath his favorite oak tree. A soft smile brightens his handsome face. Dark brown hair falls across his sparkling green eyes.
I gasp and quickly look around the backstage where small groups of performers are gathered together, hoping I’m not blushing.
This concert is the beginning of the spring-fling event that Master Marcus, my music instructor, set up for us. He’d booked more concerts than Godmother initially agreed to. I feared she’d make him pay for his indiscretion, but we eventually managed to calm her frazzled fury.
She worries about me, so she says. I need to be protected. I am special and a gift that shouldn’t be misused. She has always been so reluctant to share her little protégé with the world. But Marcus taught me how to be persuasive. That is the best thing he’s taught me so far.
And once Godmother realized what she had to gain from my musical abilities, there was no turning back. Even had I wanted to.
Four Years Past…
I was nineteen when Godmother brought Marcus Shields with her to the manor. I couldn’t help but stare at the distinguished man. Ever since I’d turned sixteen, I’d been able to…see…people more clearly. For instance, the gardener’s two assistants and all the maids had changed over the years. Their hair faded and began to show streaks of gray. Lines grew over their faces and some even walked a little more hunched over as if each year created a new burden on them.
Miss Wrenn explained that people aged and it was perfectly normal. Except, she never changed. Nor did the cook, Mrs. Westin. For that matter, the butler Mr. Stimms and the head gardener Mr. Tunis also retained their youthfulness. When I asked why Miss Wrenn said they weren’t like the others on staff and then changed the subject.
Once she changed the subject, there was no going back.
Her avoidance was fine. I’d come to my own conclusions. I’d figured out, from the books that I read that there were indeed two types of people. There were human people who were born, changed over time until they grew old, and then they died.
Then there were the fae people who were as varied in cultures and races as humans were. But they didn’t change in the same manner as humans. Or rather, not as fast. Except, most of the books I read said that the fae peoples were fictional. Made up. Didn’t really exists.
My life was surrounded by too much magic to truly believe that it wasn’t real.
So, when Marcus Shields, as he called himself, took my hands in his, I could feel he was different than the humans who worked for Godmother. For one, he looked directly into my eyes. They wouldn’t, or couldn’t—I was never really sure which. But I could also feel something more, like the vibrations made when I played music. I could feel his uniqueness.
Did Godmother know? Had she picked him because he wasn’t human?
If so, then why?
“She is extremely gifted, Master Shields,” Godmother Estella bragged, her sharp chin lifted high. “I found her when she was a mere toddler, but could see right away that she was special, despite the hovel she was living in.”
I’d heard this all before. How my parents were selfish, self-seeking people. Thieves, Godmother called them. Her story was hard to believe. Evidently, my father had broken into Estelle’s special garden where she grew things not meant for regular consumption.
She continued the story, her countenance darkening at the memory, “He stole leaves from… well, a plant that does not need to get into the hands of the wrong people, let’s say.” She whipped out her fan and waved it in front of her heated face.
“I was going to have that wretched man disposed of,” Godmother snapped the fan shut. “Perhaps I should have, but then I saw my precious Rachel.” Her motherly smile usually warmed my heart, unless she was callously speaking about my horrible parents.
Were they really so awful? I was never quite sure. Godmother had little tolerance for people who went against her wishes.
“They were more than willing to see reason. The man was so consumed with his greed and satisfying his own needs, that he didn’t even hesitate to hand his only child over. The mother was more reluctant, but I found a way to convince her to relinquish her rights to the child. Neither of them had any idea what a treasure they truly had. But I knew.”
Marcus Shields smiled warmly at me. His long, graceful hands clasped on his lap. His black hair was slicked back from his charming face. Like Miss Wrenn, his skin was flawless, his build perfectly proportioned and his movements like gently swaying reeds in the wind.
“Sounds as if you’ve saved her from a wretched life, Madam Estelle. May I hear her play? Then I will know if your efforts were worth it.”
Godmother laughed. “Oh, I have no doubt that you’ll find everything I’ve done has been completely justified and will someday pay off handsomely.” She clapped her hands and smiled, before urging me to take a seat on the bench.
Master Shields moved to stand beside the piano. Godmother remained on the settee she’d had brought into the music room. The neglected room looked nothing like it did when I’d first found it. Now there were comfortable chairs and sofas around the piano that had been tuned to perfection. She’d had me try other instruments, but the piano was my special one. It was like the baby grand had been crafted for only me.
Once in a while, Godmother would bring a guest and asked me to play for them. I loved performing for people who enjoyed listening to me. They weren’t allowed to speak directly to me, but I could feel their appreciation. Their emotions fueled my desire to play as masterfully as possible.
Godmother seemed to feel it too, but in a different way that I didn’t fully understand at first.
So, I played for Master Shields that day, one of my favorite songs that the wind had taught me. He listened with his eyes closed. Godmother often listened in the same way. As if they were absorbing the music into their very souls.
When I finished the piece, Marcus whipped out a handkerchief and wiped it across his dampened cheeks and forehead.
“What did I tell you?” Godmother boasted. “She can sing, as well. I dare say that her voice would enchant even the hardest of hearts.”
I blushed under her praises. The singing discovery happened in the same way as my piano playing. One day, the words simply poured out from that deep place in my soul. Even the birds outside grew quiet.
Marcus merely nodded. He took his leather case and pulled out several sheets of paper. “Can you read music, my dear?” Master Marcus set a difficult Sonata by Chopin on the stand.
I’d never learned what the notes meant. I only needed to hear a song once to replicate it. Except I hated replicating it exactly. I always wanted to add my own variations into the piece. Truly, I couldn’t help myself. Once my fingers began moving over the keys, they acted of their own accord.
Having heard this particular song many times, I closed my eyes and let my hands do their magic.
“Magnificent!” He gasped when I finished. “Has she played this piece before?”
Godmother nodded. “And many like it. She spends most of her time in here nowadays. I don’t think the child can help herself. Now that she’s found her true gifting.”
“She is ready, Madam Estelle. She is talented enough to perform—”
“Absolutely not!” Godmother began to bristle. Spark
s flashed in her cold grey eyes. The room grew chill.
Master Shields seemed to deflate. “Accept my apologies, Madam Estelle. I was merely taken with the child’s immense talents.”
Godmother nodded. “Rachel, you are excused, dear. Go on out and play while Master Shields and I have a word in private.”
I knew better than to disobey. I stood, curtseyed toward our guest, then left through the glassed doors. I didn’t have to go far before I was able to blend in with the vines that covered the trees and the sides of the stone walls. I’d left the doors open on purpose.
Finding a comfortable spot to sit, I rested my head against the tree. My golden blond hair that flowed down past my waist would look like Spanish moss flowing over the trunk. My green dress would blend into the fern and ivy. I often picked this color for that very reason. It made hiding all that much easier.
“I will not have her paraded around like a carnival act, Master Shields.” Godmother was saying. Her cold voice drifted through the open doors.
Master Marcus’ excited tone humbled. “I understand your concern, Madam. I do. But her gifts are astounding.”
“And they can become much more powerful, could they not? With the proper training? That is why I called you, Marcus. I know what you are. If you agree to my terms, I will make it worth your while. But you will have to agree to my terms.”
The two of them grew quiet for a long moment. I feared they might have realized that I’d left the doors open on purpose, but when I strained my neck to look around the corner, they were still open.
Master Shields finally responded, “I’ll not be one of your caged birds, Madam Estelle. We must come up with a compromise if you wish for me to work with your protégé. I’ve already agreed to the memory charm if I refuse to work with you. Please, my dear lady, I have responsibilities of my own. You cannot require me to stay here. That is the deal breaker.”
Promise Forever: Fairy Tales with a Modern Twist Page 16