Madeline

Chapter 1

Perfect. I sighed contentedly, sitting back to admire my most recent drawing. It was of the cat I called Peaches, who lived in the stables. His portrait turned out better than it looked in my mind.

Why couldn't the rest of my life work like that?

My life wasn't terrible, I suppose. I had enough food and plenty of things that many other people did not have. But there should be more to life than that, right?

I guess I wouldn't really know. I was only ten, but it was hard not to notice that the servants - who, compared with my family, had basically nothing - were so much happier than me.

Maybe it would be different if my mother was alive. I often wondered what she was like and if I should miss her. If she wouldn't have loved me any more than Father did, I didn't want to waste time and energy thinking about her, but maybe she was different. I knew I looked like her at least. I'd been told so many times. I had the same dark curly hair, the same fair skin, the same wide, clear blue eyes, and the same petite frame. But that hadn't made Father care very much about me. All he cared about was that I did as I was supposed to.

Frowning at my thoughts, I examined my drawing a little more closely for any flaws I could fix. I didn't want to think about Father.

I began touching up the picture and must have gotten lost in the task. I only tore my eyes away from the paper when I heard my nanny, Sadie noisily enter the stables. The way my neck hurt when I moved, told me it had been quite a while since I last looked up.

"Madeline!" she called loudly again before spotting me in the far corner. She let out a noisy huff and took a few steps in my direction. "There you are, Child. I've been looking everywhere for you," she scolded. "I should have known I'd find you here. You're supposed to be working on your needlepoint."

"I hate needlepoint," I complained. "I don't know why I have to do it."

"Because your father insists. And you'd better not let him catch you with that book, or it'll join the last one."

I scowled down at my sketch book, vividly remembering Father throwing my previous one into the fireplace. He caught me drawing in my room and had thrown a fit. Drawing wasn't considered very ladylike, and he wouldn't stand for it. I don't know why he cared if I were ladylike or not. It's not as if he ever took me anywhere or even talked to me much. Maybe he just didn't want to be embarrassed if word ever got out that his daughter was unrefined.

"I don't know where you get them." Sadie shook her head.

And I wasn't about to tell her either. I bought my books and pencils from one of the stable hands, using useless trinkets I found around the house that I knew would never be missed. Even if Sadie didn't want to intentionally get me into trouble, she was too scared of Father not to tell him what she knew. Especially in light of the fact that I was taking things from the house without permission.

When I only stared at her silently, Sadie sighed. "I suppose you'll be wanting to write books next," she joked.

If only I could! I had a hundred stories in my head that I would love to write down. Unfortunately, reading and writing were even more unladylike than drawing.

Sadie must have seen something in my face because she narrowed her eyes. "Don't even think about it, Little Miss. Your father would do more than burn your books if you ever got that bold."

I wanted to scream and remind her that I didn't know how to read or write - that no one had ever been allowed to teach me. But it wasn't her fault and it wouldn't do any good anyway. Besides, she'd probably punish me for yelling.