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The Heart Of A Noble Woman
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The Heart Of A Noble Woman
-A story about a young noble woman who first discovers what love is.---Please Review
[860 words]
Mandi Butkovich
[January 2007]
[email protected]
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The Heart Of A Noble Woman
Mandi Butkovich

The snow slowly fell in the darkness of the night. The pale moon shone through the light layers of clouds that blanketed the earth with snow. The far-off trees cast their shadows over the white meadows. I sat alone in my chambers, sitting on the stone sill of the leaded window. The fire slowly dying to coals, and its warmth with it. I climbed down from my seat on the sill to find a robe to cover myself and my thin night shift. My father’s meeting with one of his wealthier friends bothered me, giving me a sleepless night. I’m almost fourteen years old, and I am still not betrothed, but Father’s friend has a son eight years my senior that is not yet married. However kind he may be, it is not him I wish to marry. My heart belongs to another.

I was on a ride one early autumn afternoon on my mare, Chestnut. We were galloping through the forest, my red curls, which have fallen out of my bun, blowing in the breeze. As we approached the edge of the forest, I saw a field with low crops, and in the field, I saw a lone figure. Since I was raised on the estate, I knew most of the villagers around our small castle, but I knew nothing about this farmer or their land, so I decided that I would go investigate. I dismounted my mare and tied her to a tree at the edge of the field. I looked up at the sun to see the hour; it was a about midmorning. Lifting the front of my pale green riding dress slightly as to not step on it, I made my way to the figure. As I drew closer, I realized the figure was a young man not much older than myself. In the early autumn, the weather is much too warm, or at least he thought so, because he wore no shirt. His dark hair lay flat against his head with sweat. He was plowing the fields.

“Excuse me,” I called to him, “ You are a resident of the Widler Estate; aren’t you?”

He looked at me, his light blue eyes locking with my emerald eyes. “Yes, and you are?”

“The daughter of the lord of this land,” taken aback by the fact that he didn’t know who I was. My father was lord of the estate, and all of his children were, or should be, known throughout the villages. He must keep to himself in order to not know the lord’s daughter, I thought to myself. I offered him my hand. “I am Lady Marianne Widler, youngest daughter to your lord.”

He took my hand and responded, “Henry Parker, youngest son to a local farmer.” He then bowed, almost mockingly. I quietly giggled to myself.

“Do you have a farmhouse around here somewhere?” I asked him, since I saw none.

“My father does, just inside those trees,” he answered, pointing to the trees just left of my mare. I hadn’t noticed it coming in, so it must be pretty well hidden. However, now that he pointed it out, I saw the dark outline of a farmhouse.

“I didn’t even know anyone lived out here. You’re so secluded.”

“I guess that’s the way my father wanted it; he was the one who built that farmhouse. He then brought my pregnant mother out here to birth my oldest brother. The family has been out here ever since,” Henry told me.

I spent the rest of that day, along with many to follow, with Henry and his family. I soon found myself waiting for days when I could go see Henry. When I told my older sister, Jane, about these longings, she threw her head back and laughed at me.

“You’re in love, Mary,” she told me after her giggle fit was over.

“Why do you laugh? I thought that love was a good thing,” I said defensively.

“It is, well except when you’re a noble, then love is a dream as distant as a star. Nobles marry for title, breeding, and money, not love,” Jane answered. “You must marry a man father wants you to, and I don’t think father would like the idea of you getting married to a farmer’s son. You can’t be anyone to Henry but his noble friend.”

At this, my heart sank. Henry was the man I loved, but I would never be able to be with him. Later that night, I stared up at the dark, starry sky. I knew many of the constellations, but they didn’t matter. I picked a star, a big, bright star, and I gave that star my dream and my love for Henry. Ever since that night, I would look up into the sky on clear nights and watch my dream. With the progression of the year, the stars sink and new ones rise, and I slowly watched my dream disappear under the horizon with the coming of winter months. Now, tonight, I look at the cloudy sky, wanting to see my dream.




"I liked it. I thought it was cute, kinda sad, but cute." -- Yuki.


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© 2006 Mandi Butkovich
November 2006

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