𝑰𝑵𝑲 • 𝑻𝒆𝒘𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒚 / 𝑳𝒐𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆

Two Time

I know you better than I know myself

The way you phrase things makes me melt

The lexical choice of you're sugary speech

Renders me a puddle by your feet

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On most days, Florence managed to stick to the same routine she had established since her early years working at the manor. A routine she had followed strictly for years, even now, excluding the 3 months time period during which a certain boy had managed to steal any and all motivation she would require to keep herself going.

The chores started early. She would be up and about with the rising sun and all the early birds. Get dressed, brush teeth, braid hair, go. She always started by the barn; feed the chickens then collect the eggs. Deliver said eggs to the kitchen and pet the hound on the way there if there's time, 30 seconds with all 7 of them. Light the fire in the parlor and fluff the chaise cushions, straighten the chessboard and dust the bookshelves. Return to the kitchen, pick up the basket, and head back to the barn.

Open the gate and let the sheep onto the pasture. Make sure it's locked before walking back home. Upon arriving, wipe down the work boots and get dressed again; this time, in the maid uniform. A black dress, apron, stockings, and a pair of now clean work boots. Pick up the pale of fresh milk from Margery and pass them on to mum. Wait for the tea to be ready and then deliver it to Lady Tewkesbury.

And then finally, breakfast.

One may be shocked, flabbergasted even at the fact that a girl of her age was being worked to the bone, and in fact had been working this way since the ripe age of 12. It was then that her mother decided that she could join her in her duties, making things slightly easier for the family, and it was for that reason that she had no problem doing it.

Florence liked structure. A schedule made her feel safe, secure. Like nothing out of the ordinary or particularly interesting was going to happen, and there was no need to worry at the possibility of anything going wrong. Everything was as it should be and she was fine with that.

She had no problem waking up at sunrise. Greeting the farm animals before interacting with any person. Even walking the length of the estate twice before having a slither of food didn't bother her. It was all in a days work.

Florence did everything in her ability, every single day, to stick to this regiment religiously. She follows the rules, doesn't stray from the path, and usually, does so quite easily. The only thing ever able to distract her, bait her, pull her away from her black and white life was him. And this morning was no exception.

You can imagine her surprise, or more accurately, shock, when she was met with his chest upon opening her door. There he stood, smiling uncomfortably, a flimsy bouquet of struggling daisies in his hands. They looked like him, the daisies that is, something in the way they wilted in the early morning.

Tewkesbury wasn't a morning person and that was made impossibly clear to anyone who had ever interacted with him at any point before lunchtime. He could be grumpy, drowsy, uncoordinated, among a number of things. So seeing him standing before her, and smiling might I remind you, at such an ungodly hour was less than uncommon.

"I brought you these." He extends an arm out, handing her the flowers.

"At five in the morning?" Florence was beyond confused. Why in gods name was he here. From the way she was looking at him, Tewkesbury must have thought she was mad, but it was simply that she could not find a reasonable answer for him handing her flowers at five am.