The ancient town of Oldenburg lay nestled between rolling hills, its cobblestone streets winding like forgotten secrets.
The coachman's gruff voice echoed in her ears, "We are here, miss."
Henrietta stepped down from the carriage, her skirts rustling as she alighted onto the sun-kissed pavement.
Henrietta's smile was a delicate curve, an appreciation towards the coachman. The other passengers, their eyes narrowed, regarded her as if she were an exotic creature—a swan among pigeons. But she paid them no heed. Her purpose burned brighter than their judgmental glances.
As the carriage rumbled away, Henrietta unfurled the stolen umbrella—a relic from her mother's room, its silk worn and faded. The parasol became her shield against the relentless sun, its shadow a sanctuary. She adjusted her bonnet, its ribbons fluttering like captured butterflies, and set forth.
The duke's estate was located quite far from where she had gotten down from the carriage.
It was the first time Henrietta had visited Oldenburg, but not for her elder brother. She heard it was a prestigious town but all she could see was the buildings leaning towards each other, and for some uncleared reasons, her heart thumped loudly like she had been there before.
Her footsteps echoed - a rhythm that danced with the pulse of the town. She knew the map of the Kingdom by heart—the winding alleys, the hidden shortcuts. Yet, she craved more than mere cartography.
"We are to be married, my love. Please take slow steps, you are walking faster than usual." Henrietta noticed a man chasing after a woman. He looked desperate as he wanted to reach out to the woman. She curiously whipped her back to the noblewoman.
"Although I have strong feelings of love for you, I must admit that I cannot commit to a relationship due to the unpleasant odor of your feet and how you sneeze." was the cold reply of the woman as she shouted, undaunted by the scene she was creating on the street. She didn't bother to turn around which made Henrietta surprised.
Different from her town, Yeshre, Oldenburg seemed to be a place of reputation and power.
She thought the woman was either blind or mentally deranged to ignore a man as handsome as he was just because of his feet. Ridiculous.
Unsure of her route, Henrietta paused, her gloved hand brushing against a stone wall.
Soon, a kindly-faced woman emerged from a bakery, flour dusting her apron. "Seeking directions, dear?" she asked, her accent thick with local warmth. Henrietta nodded; her gratitude palpable.
The woman pointed to an alley just before her and directed Henrietta to move forward. She explained that the duke's estate would be the first site visible from that direction.
And so, Henrietta followed the guidance. It took her more than twenty minutes by foot before she arrived at the Estate's entrance gate.
Its wrought iron gates stood tall, flanked by ancient oaks.
Henrietta's heart, aflutter like a startled bird, quickened as the imposing gates widened. Before her lay a realm of manicured gardens and ivy-clad walls—a place that whispered power of nobility and grandeur. She stepped onto the threshold of the estate, her breath catching in awe.
"This place," she murmured, her voice barely audible, "looks like a palace. Isn't the duke more akin to an emperor? Wow! I can't believe I am finally inside the duke's estate. True, I missed the grand ball, but here I stand now—a humble governess amidst opulence. The ladies back in my small town would surely turn green with envy." She giggled.
Yet, fate is a capricious dancer, twirling Henrietta into an unexpected tableau. The air shifted, and she found herself encircled by military men—uniforms crisp, eyes steely, guns leveled at her. Panic quickly surged within her chest.
"Fire the guns!" barked a stern voice, and Henrietta's world narrowed to the cold metal barrels aimed at her.
"No!" she cried out, her voice raw with desperation. "Please, don't. I am no threat! I come not as an adversary but as a governess—a mere seeker of employment." Fear clamped her tongue, and she tasted blood where she had bitten it in her haste to explain.
Henrietta's pulse raced, her mind a whirlwind of questions. What was happening? Tyrion, her elusive contact, hadn't warned her about this. What the hell was happening here? They were trying to kill her.
She stood at the threshold, surrounded by military men—guns leveled, suspicion etched on their faces.
Two figures emerged from the main building. One was unmistakably Mr. Becket, the duke's right-hand man. The other, a man of importance, now inquired about the commotion. His eyes lingered on the weapon, curiosity, and greed dancing in their depths.
"Why is that young lady cornered?" the unknown man asked, voice cold. "Did you get the new materials from the north?"
Mr. Becket's expression remained inscrutable. He strode toward the scene, leaving the inquisitive man behind. Meanwhile, Henrietta continued to clutch the letter of her employment—a flimsy shield against the menace surrounding her.
"Wait! Lower the weapons. I am no threat." she pleaded, her voice trembling. "I have a relative here—Tyrion Rowand. He's my elder brother. If you know his identity—"
"What is going on here?" The stern interruption came from Mr. Becket, the duke's esquire who commanded the army. He happened to also be the General of the army.
"We noticed a threat," the leader explained, saluting. "She forced her way into the Lord's estate. We are interrogating her of her mission."
"Forced!" Henrietta scoffed. "This is ridiculous. My mission is to tutor the duke's son. I already said that I am not a threat. I've been invited by the duke himself! Appointed as the governess for his son." Her glasses perched defiantly on her nose. "Are you deaf? Did you sell your ears to a dog? I'm petite, not dangerous! You are trying to get me killed on my first day." If she had screamed any longer, she was sure she would have begun crying. They scared her tremendously.
Mr. Becket intervened, clearing his throat.
At that moment, Henrietta snapped her mouth shut, regretting her outburst. Fear had overwhelmed her—the cold metal of guns still pointed her way.
"Ethan," Mr. Becket addressed the soldier, "she's the new governess. Lower your weapons," he instructed, trying to pacify the situation. Turning to Henrietta, he apologized, "Miss Rowand, forgive their mistake. Please follow me."
"My name is Henry Becket, the duke's assistant. Do forgive our incompetent for identifying a threat." He bowed with his neck, slightly.
Watching their general bow to the woman, the soldiers immediately regretted their actions and bowed likewise.
Rolling her eyes, Henrietta, still aggravated, snapped her fingers at Ethan. "This handsome man saved your skin. Better remember that." she quipped and followed Mr. Becket to her line of work with a bright smile on her face.
'TARGET, NUMBER ONE'
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I would like to thank my supporters for adding to their libraries. Also, to Ariana_Sawyer for the gifts, I appreciate it. Thank you.
Dawn_Graceson, thank you so much for the power stones and goldenticket.
UNNATI_AWASTHI, thank you too for the powerstones.
Rainism_11
Kimberlypupa.
But thanks to everyone enjoying my book. To add the book to your libraries is worth thanking.