Novels2Search
The Joy of Life
...And A Beginning(2)

...And A Beginning(2)

Giselle lay in plush bedsheets currently soaked in sweat, staring deadpan at the infant being gently cradled in the arms of ‘her’ personal handmaid. She was sure that the Duke would shortly be made aware of the fact that he had either another piece of insurance for the heir position or a chess piece for his schemes. Or maybe that wretched wife of his would get to the child first. Whether or not he was pleased with this piece of news, and whatever he decided to do with the child, she did not care, for she had already completed her ‘duty’ to the motherland.’ Hmph, what kind of sh*tty motherland would sacrifice one of its’ children for some petty benefits. Father must still be trying to convince Mother that this marriage was for the good of her people, the snake.’ A sad smile crossed Giselle’s face as she remembered the violent protest her mum put up on her behalf before she was sent away from everything and everyone she loved. And loved she had. The smile left Giselle’s beautiful face as quickly as it came, realising the kind of state she was in. She returned her attention to the handmaid Isabella. A demure woman of petite stature, she was currently resting her eyes, as her rhythmic swaying helped to keep the baby oblivious to its new world. The rat didn’t even look for its’ mother before falling asleep, inconsiderate just like its’ father. Giselle quickly paled at her natural use of the word ‘mother’. No, she was simply the little parasite’s host, and now she had been liberated from that role. Shaking her head free from useless thoughts, she closed her eyes to the cruel world around her. Speaking as if to no one in particular, she said “From now on the child is your responsibility, do with him as the Lord sees fit” in an apathetic tone that offered no room for debate. A low reply of ‘yes, my lady’ and the soft sound of light footsteps receding on the hardwood was all the confirmation Giselle needed that she was free from the nuisance. Giselle forcefully pushed down on the guilt rising in her heart, finding the empty room a lot colder than it was a few seconds ago. She let herself sink into damp bedsheets, waiting for sleep to offer the short reprieve from the gloom that her life had become.

*

Isabella looked up from the unfinished needlework on her crossed legs to observe an overcast sky, with gloomy clouds threatening to release their outpour upon all her hard work. She had been so completely engrossed in making new clothes for her quickly growing son that she had lost track of the time, and her charge. Fortunately, she didn’t have to look far, turning to her left to see a bright-blue-eyed infant with straight, raven black hair staring intently at a picture book. She was convinced that the boy was a genius, and it was a real shame that neither of his parents showed any real interest in his upbringing outside of his father receiving short monthly updates on his wellbeing. A sad smile crossed Isabella’s pretty face as she recalled the circumstances surrounding her current role.

Upon returning to the duke’s employ after giving birth to her son Sebastian, she was assigned to the service of Duke Armstrong’s newest concubine, a ‘barbarian’ hailing from the ominous Frozen Plains according to the house help’s gossip. Being of commoner status, Isabella naturally held no delusions of serving her new master with anything other than full commitment, but she was surprised that the duke’s right-hand man was the one giving her orders and not the Head maid. She was told to serve the lady well, and that she would be meeting him regularly to discuss ways of ‘improving the lady’s treatment’. Naturally, she understood that she would be spying on her new master for the duke but given that he was her true master, she neither raised any objections nor thought too much about it.

When Isabella first laid eyes on the stunning ice-cold beauty with hip-length raven black hair, luscious red lips that juxtaposed her pale white skin, entrancing purple eyes, and a strong nose that balanced out her face, it wasn’t until Isabella felt the lifeless aura practically emanating from the woman did she understand she wasn’t dealing with a new master but a hostage. Understanding that she had no power to interfere in the matter of nobles, Isabella kept her pity in her heart, vowing to wholeheartedly serve her new master until she was no longer needed. Lady Giselle didn’t object to Isabella’s presence initially, either because she had lost the will to care or she knew that the duke would just replace Isabella with another of his people, Isabella couldn’t tell.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

However, after the duke made a late-night visit to lady Giselle, and she was found to be pregnant a few weeks afterward, she would often seclude herself either in her private room or her garden outside of mealtimes. Isabella was worried for lady Giselle’s mental state, and as a mother herself, for the child’s health, but lady Giselle would often be in an abrasive mood whenever Isabella tried to make conversation, and knowing not to push her luck, she turned to silently praying for the duo.

Fortunately for the child, lady Giselle maintained a healthy weight and the pregnancy progressed smoothly. Imagine Isabella’s shock when she discovered that her master didn’t want anything to do with the child that she had supported for 9 long months. The shock was even more severe when she learned of the duke’s indifference to this, and how she was being reassigned to the care of the child given that she was in the best position for motherhood. Her heart ached with compassion for the child born from such a loveless union, and she once again promised to devote herself wholeheartedly to becoming the boy’s mother. She even remembered apologising to the sleeping 2-day old infant through softly falling tears as she explained the circumstances around his birth, promising to love and cherish him as if he was her own blood.

From that day on, Isabella dedicated most of her time to caring for the young master, burying the guilt in her heart for leaving her own flesh and blood in her sister’s hands day in and day out. She was there for his first smile, his first laugh, and his first bath; when the duke deigned to see his son for the first time and gave him a name after nearly a month since his birth; when he could first roll over and sit up; there for his first fever that lasted a terrifying three days; there to tell him fantastical stories, feed him and change him; eventually, she could see him first succeed to crawl. It was not the first time she had seen these things, but it was magical nonetheless, and she truly began to cherish the young boy as her own.

Over the past 12 months, Isabella had noticed that the child was very well-behaved, and his eyes looked to contain more intelligence than his age would suggest (understandable, considering the eyes belonged to a man with 20+ years of life experience). The child would rarely cry unless he was hungry or in an ‘uncomfortable’ situation, and his eyes would observe his surroundings as if he could understand what was going on around him. Initially, this behaviour freaked Isabella out, but whenever she saw his pure smile and heard his cute giggles, she would be convinced that he was a perfectly normal, adorable baby, if not a bit smarter than most others.

The feeling of raindrops impacting the crown of her head caused Isabella to break out of her reverie, turning to her charge and saying “Young master, let’s get you inside before you get soaked from the rain. We wouldn’t want you to catch another cold, would we?” to which the child hastily shook his head in response. Isabella laughed brightly at what looked to be a frightened expression on the boy’s face as if remembering the previous time that he had stubbornly requested to stay out in far from ideal conditions. It seemed as if the severe cold he had suffered from had taught him a valuable lesson. Isabella finished scooping articles of clothing and a small pile of children’s books into one arm in a practiced fashion before deftly whisking the small boy up into the embrace of the other. The child wriggled vigorously in protest before quickly settling down in apparent defeat. As soon as he had graduated to crawling, he would frantically oppose any of Isabella’s attempts to pick him up, as if relishing his newfound independence. This was one of the occasions that Isabella would not budge on, however, as they would be caught in the rain if he crawled by himself.