The doves' songs were heard through the early morning. The wind whispers to those who are alone. The rising sun gives a light kiss to anyone awake.
"Victoria, dear? Why must you insist on not getting married?" An older woman asks with exhaustion and slight worry. "I'm worried that no man would want to be with you if you keep rejecting their proposals."
"Mother," Victoria said, "I do not care for any man. I am merely sixteen years of age; let me enjoy being myself a little longer." She tells her mother while taking a light sip of tea.
"My, why did I give birth to such a daughter that only cares about books?" Her mother seemed almost to plead while clutching her crucifix. "God will only tell you that you have an interesting daughter," Victoria interrupted with a light laugh.
Her mother rubbed her temples with a sigh and looked up at her. "Your father will be arriving at the manor tomorrow morning. I pray that he has come with some good news."
Her father is a man who always seemed to want a son but got a daughter instead. Anyone would assume that she would be neglected or abused, but her father loves her dearly. He is a wonderful man who cares about family more than anything. He is a righteous general and Marquess of this country who is well respected and loved.
"I'm sure Father will come with wonderful news. He always does," Victoria tells her mother as she stands up and picks up her book. "I must be going now, Mother. I have to return this book to Mrs. Johnson."
"I do not understand why you go to that old woman's house," cold words were said, and Victoria could only give her mother a cold smile back. "That 'old woman" is extremely kind and doesn't question why I don't get married every five minutes."
With that, Victoria left her mother alone in that quiet garden. Her words may be harsh, but Victoria won't shy away from how she feels.
Victoria may be close to her father, but she is nowhere near as close to her mother. Who would try and hurry their daughter for marriage the second they turn sixteen? Anyone who's a noble, that is.
"My lady, are you going to visit, Mrs. Johnson?" One of the maids asked, which resulted in a nod from Victoria. "Please tell the coachman to get the carriage ready," she tells the maid, who bows and walks away.
Victoria walked towards the doors and wrapped her hand around the knob. "My lady," a man's voice called out to her. "Shouldn't you change dresses?" He asked.
Victoria was wearing a plain forest green dress that reached past her feet. "No. Mrs. Johnson doesn't care about appearances, and neither do I," she started simply as the butler stared at her blankly. "But the madam might find it unacceptable that you didn't change before leaving," he countered.
"Robert, I won't change my attire. You can complain to my mother, but I'm only going to see Mrs. Johnson and talk to her. I'm not going anywhere that's fancy or meeting a boy," Victoria turned away from the butler and turned the knob, finally walking outside.
Walking down the steps, she sees the carriage with the coachman sitting up front and her maid standing next to the carriage with the door opened.
Victoria put on foot on the step and looked over at the coachman, "to Mrs. Johnson's residence." Was all she said before getting inside the carriage and resting her book on her lap. The maid was about to get in, but Victoria stopped her. "I'm sorry, but I would like to go there alone again."
The maid's expression looked uncomfortable, and she was contemplating something. "My lady," she began to speak, but Victoria raised her hand to stop her from talking. "I know that you're worried, but I'm only going to be talking about books."
After a minute had passed, her maid nodded her head and closed the little door. The carriage finally began moving, and Victoria looked down at her book and then looked out of the small window.
Clouds began to form in the sky, trying to block the sun's light kiss. The dark clouds seem to be telling her that happiness will soon be taken away by all of this marriage talk. The clouds matched her personality, despite her looking like the sun. The clouds mocked her and yet embraced her at the same time. Victoria hates the dark clouds. She has never liked the rain, even when she was a little girl.
"I pray that it doesn't rain today," she whispered to herself, gently touching the book cover with her fingertips and closing her eyes.
Finally, after thirty minutes, the carriage stops in front of a small villa. She steps out of the carriage, not waiting for the coachman to get down and open the door for her. She walks towards the door and knocks twice.
She didn't have to wait long for the old woman to open the door and smile warmly at Victoria. Anyone who didn't know the woman would say that she looked lonely or a woman full of hidden secrets. But Victoria knows her better than anyone.
"My dear, I see that you finished yet another book. It's rare to see a young girl like you read so much," Mrs. Johnson says with a laugh and gently takes hold of Victoria's hand. "Come, my dear. It seems that the sun is going into hiding. Let us get you inside, where it's warm and dry."
Mrs. Johnson took her inside and shut the door, the coachman's eyes looking at the back of Victoria's head until she was no longer seen the second the door shut.
"Come, sit down." The old woman said as she sat Victoria down on a chair by a window that directly showed the garden. "I'll go make us some tea, and then we can enjoy our talk," and with that, she disappears from Victoria's sight.
Victoria smiled to herself and looked out the window, and her smile dropped when she saw a silhouette of a man in the garden. She couldn't see his face as his back was facing her.
She stood up from her seat and walked outside to the garden. She walked behind him and finally spoke up, "Sir?" She called out. Victoria didn't want to immediately jump to conclusions and was slightly hoping that he was a relative of Mrs. Johnson.
The young man turned around and looked at her. "Yes?" He asked, his voice deep and soothing.
Victoria stared at him in awe. She had seen many handsome nobles around her, but this man was more handsome than any man.
She could tell that he was no noble; maybe Mrs. Johnson's gardener? His hair is a rich chocolate brown and his bangs cover his eyes, but she knows that he is handsome.
"Miss?" He called out to her, but she hadn't uttered a single word. "What's your name, sir?" She asked him. It wasn't what she wanted to ask, but the words spilled out like an overflowing cup of water.
"The name is Oscar," he replied to her in a polite tone. "May I know your name?" He asked her in return. "My name is Victoria," she responded in a soft voice.
The wind decided to make its appearance, blowing both blonde and brown hair. Declaring this day as the day the two met in the garden. A commoner and a noblewoman.