𝑰𝑵𝑲 • 𝑻𝒆𝒘𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒚 / 𝑳𝒐𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆

Her Worth

2 years ago 

The annual Basilwether Christmas ball was always a grand ordeal. The Tewkesburys would invite all of their friends, the majority of whom were wealthy, and the rest, filthy rich. Florence of course, was stood on the sidelines, underneath a dreary curtain draped to cover the luminous glow of the snow outside. In her hands she supported a tray carrying a variety of alcoholic beverages and small finger foods for the guests.

She stood still and poised, an exemplary worker, in her hideous costume. It consisted of her usual uniform, an apron, bib, vest, stockings, and her hair braided back so not to disturb her as she worked, but everything was made a bit more... festive. Bells were hung from her skirt, causing her to jingle ridiculously as she maneuvered around the hall, She had been given tacky red and green stockings to wear by the head maid and last but definitely not least, strands of blinding, red tinsel incorporated into her braids.

Now, apart from being younger, Florence looked no different to any of the other maids who had been forced into the same treacherous get up, and made to spend the evening serving those who were dressed in the finest silk and satin gowns or fitted suits. She felt embarrassed, humiliated, mortified, and for the first time in a long while, ashamed. She felt ashamed of her position, her social standing in the world. It was oh so clear to her, looking around the extravagant room that she had in fact pulled the short straw in life. Her shoulders fell in sorrow, shrinking back into the curtain and waiting for her tray to be emptied so that she could return to the kitchen, pick another one up, and repeat.

Tewkesbury was having the time of his live. A drink in one hand and a beautiful girl in the other. He couldn't exactly remember her name, he'd just had his 4th drink of the night by the time she'd appeared, but he was rejoiced to dance with her just the same. The night of the ball had begun relatively gloomily for him, still disappointed that Florence wouldn't be joining him in the festivities to come. Especially now since he was 16, and would therefore be expected to socialize with the adults at the party. Groaning in annoyance, he adjusted his bowtie, tied his laces and looked at himself in the mirror one last time. "Of course she declined you dimwit, she works here", he muttered to himself, mentally scolding his own past actions. He grabbed his coat and ventured down the hall, his eyes immediately searching for a drink as he stepped foot among the guests.

Around 11 o'clock, already 2 hours into the night, Florence was overcome with a wave of exhaustion. Maybe it was the ache in her legs from standing upright for much longer than she could handle, or the boredom of solidarity and lack of interaction despite being in a room filled to the brim with chattering people, or maybe it was the fact that throughout the night, she had watched the boy dance with countless girls, in dresses capable of matching and emphasizing their beauty.

She wanted nothing more than for the night to just end, to return to her room, blow out her candle, and bury herself in her rough sheets. Frankly, she felt guilty. She wasn't supposed to see Tewkesbury this way. He was her friend, and she was his, her emotions were in clear violation of their friendly (but not too friendly) relationship. What are you doing, she thought, turning around to face the wall behind her and leaning her forehead against it with a little bonk. "Idiot..." her hushed whisper carrying the words she spoke to herself. She shut her eyes and let her mouth hang open slightly, a warm breath escaping from between her lips.

Feeling a gentle tap on her left shoulder, and knowing exactly who it was behind her, she rolled her eyes, wishing, praying, for the wall she found so much comfort in to just absorb her right then and there. She swallowed the lump in her throat and spun around, a cheesy smile plastered on her face, suddenly deciding to play the part, and make light of her outfit. There stood Tewkesbury, as dashing as ever, his teeth showing as he upheld a joyous grin and his eyes gleaming upon meeting hers. The only thing ruining this image for Florence would have to be the girl. The pretty, pampered blond on his arm, wrapping herself around him like a sloth to a tree. She looked Florence up and down and her expression softened, clearly, she wasn't any competition, and to that, Florence would have to agree. How could she compare.

"Hi Flo." He said sweetly, her eyes snapping back to his, tearing her mind away from her own damaging thoughts.

"How are you enjoying your night?" He teased, aware of how uncomfortable she looked in her clothes. The whole thing was much more amusing to him than it was to her.

"Was this your doing?" She playfully accused. "Did you put this- this ridiculous thing in my hair?!" She referred to the reflective strand of tinsel in her braids, noticing that he wasn't able to take his eyes off of them. "I look like a tree T" She deadpanned, happier now then she had been all night. His appearance had brought her much joy and amusement, shaking her awake. They laughed together at her outfit, it seemed to be the funniest thing in the world to them. But unfortunately, not for the blond. Unimpressed by the intimate banter between the simple maid, and the lord, she interjected. Tugging on his sleeve, and stealing away his attention, she looked up at him, her lips forming an exaggerated pout.

"Tewkesbury, I'm thirsty." She winged. "I need another drink!" Her head shifted in Florence's direction, her expectant gaze harshly bearing into her. Florence looked at Tewkesbury in confusion but upon finding his apologetic demeanor, all became clear. Thrown back into reality, she looked over at the girl ,trying to be as polite as possible, which was proving to be quite difficult at this moment.

"Of course." She replied. Lowering her empty tray in preparation to hurry to the kitchen and bring her a beverage. "Excuse me?" The blonde spoke in disbelief, appalled by her complete disregard for customary formalities. She scoffed at Florence and waited for her to do as she said, submitting to her, just as she hoped for. "Of course, my lady... and my lord." Without another word she marched to the kitchen, angered by how she had been treated, but in light of the realization she had come to earlier that night, she thought that maybe it was deserved. Maybe she was less.

Tewkesbury and the blonde returned to the party once receiving the drink, the boy thanking Florence in her place once realizing that she hadn't displayed the slightest bit of gratitude, feeling pity for his friend. The night carried on just as it had before with a new girl on the boys arm at every other glance. Each one seeming to stab Florence in the heart with their pointed stilettos and sharpened jewels.

The last guest left at around half past 12, too early for some, and much too late for others, Florence was part of the latter. In her room, she unstrung the bells, removed her stockings, and untangled the god awful string from her hair, letting it down in the process. She sat on her bed in her nightgown and cracked her neck, releasing all the tension she had been storing for most of the day. Letting out a deep breath she opened her eyes, her eyebrows furrowing faintly as they found her boots from across the room. She stared at them intensely, deep in thought.

He wouldn't be there, why would he. Its late and cold and dark and- and... she trailed off, her eyes still glued to the worn down leather and ragged laces of her old footwear. In a sudden burst of movement, she grabbed the boots, a blanket, and a candle, deciding that even if he wasn't at the treehouse, she would enjoy being there alone to simply contemplate on whatever came to mind. Her door slammed behind her as she ran, trying to warm herself up, realizing that maybe a thin nightgown and moth eaten blanket was not enough to fight away the vicious wintry air. The snow, delicately falling on top of her head, dampening the roots of her hair, and chilling her scalp in no way helping her efforts to stay warm.

Upon entering the treehouse, she found Tewkesbury sitting up in the hammock, having risen from his laying position to greet her. Seeing her teary eyes, and chattering teeth, he noticed that she was only in her nightgown. A simple 'Hello' was discarded to the side and instead, the boy opted for "What are you thinking Flo?! You're going to catch your death!" He scolded. Florence could hear the anger in his voice and sheepishly diverted her gaze to the floor. "You shouldn't be out here, it's far too late." She knew he was right, it was a stupid idea coming here. She should have stayed in her room, after all, she had work tomorrow, like she did every single day.

Tewkesbury removed his warm, padded jacket, placing it around her shoulders and rubbing them softly to bring her some warmth. "And this" he referred to her nightgown, "isn't appropriate, people shouldn't see you like this Flo." He said sternly, making sure that it stuck.

"Im sorry." She said weakly, the sadness evident in the cracks of her voice. "Nobody saw me come here, I swear. The only person to see me is you, right now." She looked up at him, trying to apologize as best she could, pulling the coat to cover her more, slightly uncomfortable under his wandering gaze. Her confession brought his attention back to her face and she could see his expression ease in what she believed to be relief.

"Well... good."