This is the second piece to Call On Me
"He is not going to be here, dear. You are being childish. You should know better."
Lady Scarlet glared defiantly at her mother, "He said he would be here, he will keep his word. Besides, we never set a time, and I'd rather be ready when he arrives."
"You mean if," her brother chide, "he arrives."
"He will arrive!" She snapped, her temper flaring, her rouged cheeks were further tinted with red. Her brother snickered as he walked out of the room, her mother rolled her eyes and collected her skirts stepping out of the room, "If you miss dinner, you will not have any after." Scarlet tensed, she loved dinner, but perhaps she could go without it once. Just once. She squared her shoulders and kept her gaze out of the window to the grounds in front of the yard. She knew he would come, he was worth waiting for. She knew it the night before at the party, he was worthy of her attention. Besides, she thought to herself, there is no chance he would ruin a friendship so easily, would he?
Two more hours passed and Lady Scarlet gathered her skirts and meandered to the dining hall with slumped shoulders. She made no eye contact with her family as she took her seat at the table as two servants quickly laid out her meal. She was sure mother wore the same expression she always had towards her antics, haughty contempt. She could feel the pitiful look of her father on her but she refused to look up.
Upon finishing her meal she quickly excused herself and angrily click-clacked in her heeled white shoes, her favorite shoes, up the stairs as her butler cast her a sad look. It had been quite some time since he last saw his lady so upset. She could deny it all she like, but he could see the hurt in her. All last night since her arrival, all she'd talked about was the prince she met at the ball. At first her mother hadn't believed her, but her father confirmed that Prince Phillip had been present and then came all the questions from the servants. Lady Scarlet had made no expense in describing the lad.
For the next week Lady Scarlet occupied herself with helping the maids and servants who felt strange at the sudden help and slight awkwardness of their mistress having been ignored so blatantly. Her eyes did not show the same fiery brightness they usually did, but it did not hold her back from being herself towards any of her visitors or her family. It occurred on Sunday morning, and Channing, Lady Scarlet's butler knocked at her door. "What is it now, Channing? Another visitor? I'm not accepting any at the moment."
"No m'lady," came the reply of the butler on the opposite of her chambers, "It is letter to you."
Lady Scarlet perked up, a letter? She quickly moved from the small ottoman by her window and opened the door.
"For me?" she asked as she took the letter, "From Prince Phillip!"
Had Channing been new to working for Lady Scarlet, he would have jumped at the door slamming on his nose, but he was used to her brazen behavior, he certainly hoped the prince would get used to it as well.
Inside her room she sat on the ottoman once more and carefully opened the white envelope, slipping out a crisp clean paper, the writing in the neatest black ink she'd ever seen. What else would she expect from a prince?
It read:
My dear Scarlet,
I wish to apologize and grovel to you for having missed calling on you. I hope you do not think so badly of me, although you have every right. I had to write to you and explain what had happened so you would not think me a fat and rude cow like all the other aristocrats. But my youngest sister is sick and I did not wish to leave her side, you see she has favored me over my other brothers. I will do anything to gain your respect back and make any time to see you. If it is alright, I will call on Monday for lunch.
In all forgiveness, Yours,
Prince Phillip.
Lady Scarlet's cheeks were hurting by the end of the short letter. She knew he hadn't purposely left her that day. She looked to her closet, now she needed to find the perfect dress.
Lady Scarlet glared defiantly at her mother, "He said he would be here, he will keep his word. Besides, we never set a time, and I'd rather be ready when he arrives."
"You mean if," her brother chide, "he arrives."
"He will arrive!" She snapped, her temper flaring, her rouged cheeks were further tinted with red. Her brother snickered as he walked out of the room, her mother rolled her eyes and collected her skirts stepping out of the room, "If you miss dinner, you will not have any after." Scarlet tensed, she loved dinner, but perhaps she could go without it once. Just once. She squared her shoulders and kept her gaze out of the window to the grounds in front of the yard. She knew he would come, he was worth waiting for. She knew it the night before at the party, he was worthy of her attention. Besides, she thought to herself, there is no chance he would ruin a friendship so easily, would he?
Two more hours passed and Lady Scarlet gathered her skirts and meandered to the dining hall with slumped shoulders. She made no eye contact with her family as she took her seat at the table as two servants quickly laid out her meal. She was sure mother wore the same expression she always had towards her antics, haughty contempt. She could feel the pitiful look of her father on her but she refused to look up.
Upon finishing her meal she quickly excused herself and angrily click-clacked in her heeled white shoes, her favorite shoes, up the stairs as her butler cast her a sad look. It had been quite some time since he last saw his lady so upset. She could deny it all she like, but he could see the hurt in her. All last night since her arrival, all she'd talked about was the prince she met at the ball. At first her mother hadn't believed her, but her father confirmed that Prince Phillip had been present and then came all the questions from the servants. Lady Scarlet had made no expense in describing the lad.
For the next week Lady Scarlet occupied herself with helping the maids and servants who felt strange at the sudden help and slight awkwardness of their mistress having been ignored so blatantly. Her eyes did not show the same fiery brightness they usually did, but it did not hold her back from being herself towards any of her visitors or her family. It occurred on Sunday morning, and Channing, Lady Scarlet's butler knocked at her door. "What is it now, Channing? Another visitor? I'm not accepting any at the moment."
"No m'lady," came the reply of the butler on the opposite of her chambers, "It is letter to you."
Lady Scarlet perked up, a letter? She quickly moved from the small ottoman by her window and opened the door.
"For me?" she asked as she took the letter, "From Prince Phillip!"
Had Channing been new to working for Lady Scarlet, he would have jumped at the door slamming on his nose, but he was used to her brazen behavior, he certainly hoped the prince would get used to it as well.
Inside her room she sat on the ottoman once more and carefully opened the white envelope, slipping out a crisp clean paper, the writing in the neatest black ink she'd ever seen. What else would she expect from a prince?
It read:
My dear Scarlet,
I wish to apologize and grovel to you for having missed calling on you. I hope you do not think so badly of me, although you have every right. I had to write to you and explain what had happened so you would not think me a fat and rude cow like all the other aristocrats. But my youngest sister is sick and I did not wish to leave her side, you see she has favored me over my other brothers. I will do anything to gain your respect back and make any time to see you. If it is alright, I will call on Monday for lunch.
In all forgiveness, Yours,
Prince Phillip.
Lady Scarlet's cheeks were hurting by the end of the short letter. She knew he hadn't purposely left her that day. She looked to her closet, now she needed to find the perfect dress.