ENGLAND, 1810
Chapter One: Whitehouse Place
“Well, that was certainly enjoyable.”
Mae, the oldest of the triplets by four and a half minutes, exclaimed.
“What? D’you mean the London bankers telling us our inheritance is less than nothing and that all we have left is some stodgy country house Great Aunt Felicia invited us to live at? Probably as a form of amusement?”
Emma rolled her eyes and Mae looked furiously out the window of the moving train. Both of them knew how much their mother’s horrible aunt, Felicia, hated them for.....well? Being related to her? Felicia’s hatred didn’t make much sense-but one thing that did was that she’d probably taken them in to live in the worst dwelling place probable. And that was Whitehouse Place. Miles and miles away from civilization, any sort of entertainment, and most of all-their grandparents’ beautiful villa in Southern Italy.
Arwyn, who, up till now, had been silent, wrung out her wet parasol on the floor of the train, getting Emma’s shoes and stockings wet. She was the youngest of the Richmond triplets, and always getting into trouble for being improper.
“Arwyn!”
“Sorry.”
Arwyn unhooked her bonnet and let her untamable, coal-black hair tumble down to her shoulders. (It was going to be a long train ride.) The truth was-almost every girl within a four mile vicinity was jealous of Arwyn’s dark hair, clear complexion, and sparkling green eyes-including her own sisters.
Emma, the blondest of the three, most especially.
“Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know? I can’t just go out and buy a new pair now can I?”
All three girls winced at the same time. They all had terrible questions possessing their minds.
How were they going to make it through on Felicia’s kindness (which wasn’t much)? How were they going to repay their aunt Felicia (she would most certainly want monetary payment for her troubles)? And most of all-what would become of them now that they were orphans? Oh-their parents had died when they were all tiny children-they were used to being that sort of orphan. But ever since they were three-they’d been living in Italy with their grandfather, Robert (who refused to being called grandfather for some unknown reason). They missed the old man-who, they had to admit, wasn’t much of a guardian. He was kind enough-wonderful Christmas presents and let them spend his money wildly-but didn’t really raise them. Their governess, Lucia, did most of the raising. But Robert-bless him-had died. Leaving them very little-because it turns out that he was practically bankrupt.
Emma made a face.
“What is it Emma?” Mae asked.
“Well.....D’you think Great Aunt Felicia will be there to greet us personally?”
“With any luck she’ll be out touring Europe with Milford,” here all three girls shuddered at the mention of their horrid cousin’s name, “and that ugly dog of hers-what’s its name? Oh yes, Poochy.”
Mae looked at Arwyn and smiled, “Right-isn’t it the one who plays dead all the time, just to escape all the attention Felicia gives it?”
“Oh yes! And it’ll drink champagne right from the cup too!”
Arwyn laughed her deep, ringing laugh that always sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a rather large well.
“I’ll give you any amount of money to say that the poor thing’s dead by now!”
“Poor? Poochy? Right! Not for the inordinate amounts of caviar that dog can consume.”
They all had plenty of laughs at Poochy’s expense.
But none of them wanted to talk about what was on their minds-and that was how life would be at their new home.
The train ride must have been hours long-Mae could’ve not been more bored. Emma and Arwyn both fell asleep within twenty minutes.
Mae stared at her spectral reflection in the glass window. She touched a hand to the ghost staring back at her.
“You look so much like your mother.”
Was what Robert told her-almost every day. Mae had seen only one picture of her mother-on her wedding day. A little tin-type of a kindly-looking man and a woman in multiple veils and a dress that was fifteen years out of style.
She couldn’t see her mother’s face at all.
What am I going to do? The question tormented her mind. No money—nothing left for her or her sisters.
What would they do?
The train slithered around turns, lakes, and mountains like a great, winding snake. The English countryside was a different kind of beautiful compared to Italy’s Tuscan hills and restless seaports.
For one thing-it rained almost the entire time.
Drenched fields went on for miles-becoming more jagged and abandoned as the train whipped north.
And everything was so green-the grass, the earth, the few trees, the moss encompassing the rocks and mountains-even the sky was a bit greener than in Italy.
Mae looked down to her folded, gloved hands.
Against her will-she loved her new country already.
Chapter One: Whitehouse Place
“Well, that was certainly enjoyable.”
Mae, the oldest of the triplets by four and a half minutes, exclaimed.
“What? D’you mean the London bankers telling us our inheritance is less than nothing and that all we have left is some stodgy country house Great Aunt Felicia invited us to live at? Probably as a form of amusement?”
Emma rolled her eyes and Mae looked furiously out the window of the moving train. Both of them knew how much their mother’s horrible aunt, Felicia, hated them for.....well? Being related to her? Felicia’s hatred didn’t make much sense-but one thing that did was that she’d probably taken them in to live in the worst dwelling place probable. And that was Whitehouse Place. Miles and miles away from civilization, any sort of entertainment, and most of all-their grandparents’ beautiful villa in Southern Italy.
Arwyn, who, up till now, had been silent, wrung out her wet parasol on the floor of the train, getting Emma’s shoes and stockings wet. She was the youngest of the Richmond triplets, and always getting into trouble for being improper.
“Arwyn!”
“Sorry.”
Arwyn unhooked her bonnet and let her untamable, coal-black hair tumble down to her shoulders. (It was going to be a long train ride.) The truth was-almost every girl within a four mile vicinity was jealous of Arwyn’s dark hair, clear complexion, and sparkling green eyes-including her own sisters.
Emma, the blondest of the three, most especially.
“Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know? I can’t just go out and buy a new pair now can I?”
All three girls winced at the same time. They all had terrible questions possessing their minds.
How were they going to make it through on Felicia’s kindness (which wasn’t much)? How were they going to repay their aunt Felicia (she would most certainly want monetary payment for her troubles)? And most of all-what would become of them now that they were orphans? Oh-their parents had died when they were all tiny children-they were used to being that sort of orphan. But ever since they were three-they’d been living in Italy with their grandfather, Robert (who refused to being called grandfather for some unknown reason). They missed the old man-who, they had to admit, wasn’t much of a guardian. He was kind enough-wonderful Christmas presents and let them spend his money wildly-but didn’t really raise them. Their governess, Lucia, did most of the raising. But Robert-bless him-had died. Leaving them very little-because it turns out that he was practically bankrupt.
Emma made a face.
“What is it Emma?” Mae asked.
“Well.....D’you think Great Aunt Felicia will be there to greet us personally?”
“With any luck she’ll be out touring Europe with Milford,” here all three girls shuddered at the mention of their horrid cousin’s name, “and that ugly dog of hers-what’s its name? Oh yes, Poochy.”
Mae looked at Arwyn and smiled, “Right-isn’t it the one who plays dead all the time, just to escape all the attention Felicia gives it?”
“Oh yes! And it’ll drink champagne right from the cup too!”
Arwyn laughed her deep, ringing laugh that always sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a rather large well.
“I’ll give you any amount of money to say that the poor thing’s dead by now!”
“Poor? Poochy? Right! Not for the inordinate amounts of caviar that dog can consume.”
They all had plenty of laughs at Poochy’s expense.
But none of them wanted to talk about what was on their minds-and that was how life would be at their new home.
The train ride must have been hours long-Mae could’ve not been more bored. Emma and Arwyn both fell asleep within twenty minutes.
Mae stared at her spectral reflection in the glass window. She touched a hand to the ghost staring back at her.
“You look so much like your mother.”
Was what Robert told her-almost every day. Mae had seen only one picture of her mother-on her wedding day. A little tin-type of a kindly-looking man and a woman in multiple veils and a dress that was fifteen years out of style.
She couldn’t see her mother’s face at all.
What am I going to do? The question tormented her mind. No money—nothing left for her or her sisters.
What would they do?
The train slithered around turns, lakes, and mountains like a great, winding snake. The English countryside was a different kind of beautiful compared to Italy’s Tuscan hills and restless seaports.
For one thing-it rained almost the entire time.
Drenched fields went on for miles-becoming more jagged and abandoned as the train whipped north.
And everything was so green-the grass, the earth, the few trees, the moss encompassing the rocks and mountains-even the sky was a bit greener than in Italy.
Mae looked down to her folded, gloved hands.
Against her will-she loved her new country already.
Dear Lucia,
I hope you don’t mind that I’m writing in English instead of Italian, I’ve just been so used to it in the past few days. I promise I won’t forget the language, though. And I’ll do my best to make Arwyn and Em remember it too. We’ve arrived safely, thank God. And I’m on my way to my aunt’s house as we speak.
I hope Paulo is well,
Mae
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